By Jayson Knapp

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Orange in the night
As the fire spreads the forest falls
The fire we fight

The fire fighters yell and shout
The forest calls
With sirens screeching out

Men and women run
Helicopters pour water over it all
Until it’s all done

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California Fires

By Cera Knapp


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As the fire spreads
The forest falls
Fire trucks come and go
Mothers and fathers call
For their children
They search and shout
And the children hide
The tragic result of drought

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That is How I Love

By Damien Knight

I love with a burning fire
It sears through my soul
My heart is a hearth
Where those I love gather
My fire warms them
That is how I love

My love is the breath of air
It is a the fragrance
Cherry blossom on the wind
Carried to all the world
Covering them in adoration
That is how I love

I love as a flow of water
Steam through bends and curves
A life force for my lovers
They the vessel give me shape
My passion being fluid
That is how I love

Like the earth I am steadfast
Slow changing I love for ages
I loved you 10 years ago, I still do
The cracks in my emotions
Earthquakes just bring character
That is how I love

I love with divine spirit
My passion is powerful
Fueled by water’s life, air’s breath
Fire’s warmth, Earth’s embrace
My love is the life in me
That is how I love

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Chapter Eight: A Question of Character Final Draft

“Hate me.

I love when things are complicated.”

Koraki to Anika

Arajuan did not have the luxury to stop. A tight schedule meant he had to push on. He could still smell her blood on him, feel her heartbeat against him. His own heart pounded against his ribcage. He knew this feeling, a roar in his chest from a time before he was Arajuan. She was the lady of shadows; how could he do this to her?

Arajuan had to shake this off, aloof, wicked, heartless. This is war, the price of war is death. He would laugh but it was not funny. The men followed him, orcs were the core group, from the same tribe Tsuke and Tuk hailed. The others were victims of towns he decimated. He relished in their fear when new towns he conquered saw his necromantic arts. It was a delight when they knew they bound their fate to him.

The war drums played as they marched. Socrates landed on his shoulder. He knew his master better than anyone; they were bonded as brothers. Socrates sensed Arajuan’s troubled heart.

“The girl, was she the wyrmling?” Socrates asked

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