Pisces, Chapter One: Black Sheep I was falling asleep again. I've had increasing trouble with that lately.
I could still feel my seat under me, the cushion that had worn thin from my ass being pressed into it every time I thrust upward, the chilled metal underneath, unerringly cold even as the sun boiled the rest of my cockpit up to (according to my instruments) 106 degrees Fahrenheit. This clashed with what I could see though; I looked down and was in a chair, not a pilot's seat, looked around and found myself in a college lecture hall, not a cockpit. And outside must surely appear to be my old college campus, and not the blasted landscape Old Abaddon that had burned its every nook and cranny into my mind more powerfully than any professor had taught me in this pompous school I was dreaming of.
I had trouble staying awake in class, ironically, and could feel this yearning to sleep even in my dream. Old Abaddon had taught me to fight that urge. Old Abaddon had taught me a lot. My
I'm learning to be the artists I always wanted to be. It's going to take hard work and dedication but I feel now is the point in my life when I can pursue and feel good about it.|
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