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Magic: the gatering story 1Alright, just a few more forests and my deck is complete said a boy about 16 years old. He just finished his Magic: the Gathering deck. Magic is a popular card game that has sprouted to be the most popular trading card game. He stuffed the cards into a pouch on his backpack and ran from his room.
Hurry up Ryu, or Ill leave without you shouted a boy wearing glasses and a red hat, about the same age but a bit taller. I mean it!
Ahh, keep your pants on Ryu yelled from the upstairs window of his house. He threw his emerald necklace on and jumped out the window. He landed right next to his friend Happy now?
No he replied flatly your gonna break your legs like that one of these, Oh, incase you dont know Im Eon, age 16, I wear glasses and a hat constantly
Who are you talking to? Ryu asked
I dont know sa
MAGIC: the Gathering part 0Long ago when the planet earth was still young, a powerful being known as a Planeswalker arrived and filled the planet with life. He wished for the planets inhabitants to have a happy and enjoyable life. He attempted to teach the people of the other worlds however the people refused to believe the tales of woe. Eventually his power began to weaken so he compressed his power into gems. He compressed his intuition into fifty sapphires and sunk them beneath the islands. He compressed his strength into fifty emeralds and hid them among the forest. He compressed calmness into fifty diamonds and hid them in the vast plains. He compressed his rage into fifty rubies and covered them with mountains. He compressed the darkness from his heart and compressed them into fifty onyx stones and buried deep in the swamps. When he appeared before the people who previously worshiped him shunned his words. He died
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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