Reality hath reared it's ugly head all too much recently and now it lunges towards my writing. Writing cowers before it, pleading, sparing no thought for dignity or honor, only it's life. The beast slows, and finally stops, inches away from Writing, it's great maw dripping with the rot and decay of numerous other escapes. Suddenly, it lunges for Writing, but when it withdraws it's fearsome head, Writing is still intact, though injured. Umm, yeah, dunno where that came from but the story is sticking, I'm just having to overhaul the origins a lot which is fine as they were never carved in pixels anyhow.
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