All words presented in this blog are purely opinion, not fact - unless specifically stated otherwise in the post.

Friday 28 March 2014

Second Son in Review

So I completed Infamous Second son yesterday.
First of all I want to start by saying that yes it is a lot like the original two games, Infamous and Infamous 2. But that doesn't mean its bad. I mean, it was a great couple of games. the gameplay at the very least worked really well. It's how a sandbox environment should work. You're in a city, you have a way of getting around, there's plenty to do in the city ranging from collections, rescues and main missions to fights, drug busts and area captures.
Plus you have super powers, and they aren't your normal stagnant powers. electricity, fire, water, these are the traditional power sets, but Second son uses Smoke - which admittedly is a lot like a toned down Fire power - Neon, Video and concrete.
The powers are fun and creative. They let you get around and play in your own style. Each of the powers allow you to kill your enemy or subdue them for good guy points.

But if you've played infamous and infamous 2 none of this is new to you. Its all pretty standard. In this however there are some differences.
The Characters.
The characters are relatable and interesting. You might not like them, and you might think they're whiny but they are relatable. Infamous's characters were unrealistic, boring and lacked emotion. In Second Son I can understand every one of them. I can see their motivations and I know what they're thinking. It makes things more believable - despite the super powers - and so the story comes together a lot better.
The Story.
The story is much more interesting. It makes a lot more sense and progresses nicely, from the beginning where you think you know who's the good guy and who the bad guy is, right up to the end where things become a little ambiguous.
When you get the villain speech at the end it... well it kind of threw me. I was expecting a super stereotypical villain who was out for big villainy things (world domination or something) but when I get the explanation... yeah not sure I was definitely the good guy. very ambiguous.
The Moral Choices.
One of the major things that annoyed me in the other infamous games - and games in general - was the moral choices. They tend to make you choose between evil and Good at the most extreme ways possible. The choices would be save a cat from a tree or set it on fire with no middle ground. One instance of this that was particularly annoying was Bioshock's endings. One ending you save the little girls become their dad and live happily ever after, die and have them around you at your death bed. the other ending you let all the villains up to the surface and kill the world. It's a bit extreme.
The best example of a mission - that I can think of - is Infamous 2, a mission where you can either save cars of police from trucks that they're being paraded around in or blow up the enemy house and burn the people held captive in it alive. It made no real sense.
Second son, however gives the player much more reasonable choices.
Do you tell the soldier that you're a conduit and save the people of your tribe, sacrificing your self or do you stay quiet and save yourself?
When you find another conduit, do you help them and convince them to be better people? or do you just show let them keep hurting people and just get their help?
When you have a guy who helped kill someone you care about in your grasp do you kill him in your anger with his previously kidnapped daughter a few meters away or to you let him live?
Legitimate decisions, all.

In my opinion it's a good game that you should definitely play. its fun, it has a good story and compelling characters. Seriously, what more do you want?

- James

Wednesday 26 March 2014


Hey guys!
I just wanted to post up another couple of scenes from my Exile sidequell, Hero.
If you haven't read Exile yet go here for the UK or here for US to get it on your kindle!

If you haven't read the first part of this story, here it is.

The pirate stepped back, shaking his fist, flexing his fingers. Charlie imagined that the man’s fist must be hurting after so many punches to a man’s face. Sure; Charlie’s cheekbone and nose were broken, he had a bloody split lip, a cut over his eyebrow, a black eye, his teeth were rattling, there was a high pitched ringing in his head that wasn’t necessarily the first sign of a concussion - though Charlie wasn’t prepared to rule it out completely - but poor pirate and his hand.
Charlie spat the blood from his mouth out. He tried to get it on the floor but a mixture of pain and exhaustion had it land on his shoulder. “Captain Charles Crowe. Identification code two-two-three-five-seven-jay.” He mumbled, head lolling forward.
“Yeah, yeah. Know that already.” The pirate sighed, squeezing his hand back into a fist and releasing with a final shake. “Funny thing; we never asked.”
‘We’ again. Charlie thought. Who is ‘we’? It was true, however; they hadn’t asked. So far they hadn’t asked a thing. It was like they didn’t care. Or perhaps they just wanted to weaken him, weaken his resolve before they asked.
Maybe they just enjoyed hurting him?
“I’m sure you must be wondering why we haven’t just killed you.” The pirate rumbled, dropping down into the chair opposite. In a manner of speaking, yes, that was exactly what Charlie was wondering. “You’d think I’d be happy to just tell you. You’re not leaving this place. You’re going to die here.”
He sighed and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a cigarette. He had to know that Charlie hated the smell of cigarette smoke. You weren’t allowed to smoke in the Navy - too many important things you might accidentally burn - so whenever he visited home and his mother was smoking… He had to know. It was so subtle… or accidental.
That Bastard.
He lit the cigarette up and took in a long drag. He breathed the smoke out and blew it into Charlie’s face. “Still; I’m impressed. Would’a expected one of you Navy boys to crack by now. The other- your crew mates. They’re all just as quiet as you. Pretty impressive.”
Charlie ignored the smoke, he didn’t even cough. Admittedly it was less resilience and more exhaustion. “‘Course your crew mates are all dead. Died when we boarded. On’y reason we di’n’t kill you was, ‘cos you weren’t shootin’ at us.” He was trying to rattle Charlie. Trying to make him emotional, reactionary, but that sort of thing didn’t work on charlie.
Not anymore.
Not in a long time.


“I don’t understand.” Charlie said, his eyes red and puffy. Tears streamed relentlessly down his cheeks. “We saw him the day before yesterday! He was fine! You must have the wrong person!”
“I’m sorry, Charles.” His mother sighed, placing a hand on his knee. “But Dylan didn’t make it home.”
“You’re wrong!” He shouted again. “He’s joining the Navy! He’s going to become an Admiral! He’s going to stop the pirates!”
Charlie’s mother winced at his son’s outburst. “I’m sorry, Charles, but Dylan is gone.”
Charlie choked on his tears, gasping for breath as he cried deep sobs, turning into his mother and burying his face into the woman’s dress. “Why?” He moaned.
She sighed, wrapping her arms around her only son. “Because... Because sometimes bad things happen when they shouldn’t. To good people who don’t deserve it.”
He cried for hours, holding his mother, heaving deep breaths into her dress, soaking through it until he could cry no more. The whole time she rubbed the back of his head, stroking him gently in a calming motion.
After what felt like an eternity, his throat sore, he asked, “What happened?”
She sighed. “Oh, child...” She squeezed him tight. “It was the pirates. They-” She was cut off by a buzzing from outside his room, the front door. Charlie’s mother looked towards the door with concern and squeezed her son tight before releasing him. She got up and left the boy alone in the room to cry, to blame himself, to wonder what would have happened if Dylan had stayed at the sleepover.
For a moment he fell onto the bed and began to curl up, weeping into his sheets. His friend was gone. Killed by the very pirates he had wanted to stop. Yes, he was fifteen, he shouldn’t cry, but his friend was dead. Snuffed out at a mere twelve years old.
Who could blame him?
He didn’t remain there long however. A scream from below pierced his ears and he leapt from his bed. He forced his way out of his room and thundered down the stairs to find his mother on her knees, weeping, sobbing as a man in a uniform knelt beside her, trying to comfort her.
Charlie looked down at the man, a naval officer. His grim expression, his mothers wailing it could only mean one thing...
“Dad’s dead.” He said. His friend was bad enough... but his dad as well? It was too much. It was too much to be able to feel, too much to want to feel. It was just... just too much, and it broke him. A numbness consumed him, burying deep inside and taking root.
Charlie sat down on the third step from the bottom and closed his mouth, remaining quiet. A calm logic settling over him and taking up residence where his emotions had once sat.

Thanks for reading! More coming soon.

Tubage-I can - like - see everything...
- James

Monday 17 March 2014

The passage of the undead, episode 1

It was with a crash and a boom that I was awoken from my eternal slumber- not so eternal as the wardens of my cell believed it to be. Someone, a knight of some sort had dropped a body in with me. I frowned at it for a moment before drawing the long forgotten energy from my undead bones and climbing to my feet, broken sword in hand and ready should this be some kind of trap.
I searched the body and found a key on it - male or female I was unsure, it didn't matter to me at that point in my un-life.
With apprehension I put the key to the lock and turned it. The door swung open and excitement flooded through me. I was free... I could leave the asylum. were I alive I'm certain tears would have begun to stream from my eyes.
I took my first steps from my cell and began on my way, learning as I went what had once been common knowledge to me. attacks, movement, dodging and protecting myself with a simple shield that I picked up in my escape. Guards didn't roam the halls of the asylum, but hollow cell mates did. undead that had lost completely what made them human. I dispatched them with ease, they weren't the threat within the asylum.
It was the Demon that brought fear to my weak bones. blow after blow he saw through my rolls and my blocks. slash after slash he tore through me. Time after time he killed me, but for the regenerative properties of the bonfire outside his dwelling I would surely have hollowed like the other inhabitants of the asylum.
Feeling thoroughly outmatched I once more step through the breach, this time resolved to my fate. I step into his home and a vision comes to me, words from another soul, a kindred stranger who had been through this before.
"Left" it said. As my mind cleared I looked up, unsure what to make of it. The demon glared down at me from it's perch above and it jumped. it's hammer falling down towards me. I rolled to the left and landed on my feet, looking up at... a doorway. My eyes widened in surprise. Left it had said. A path out!
I fled with all my dignity in the wind and rolled through the gateway. Feeling, more than seeing the flush of air at my back as the hammer came down just beyond the doorway. A moment longer and I would be dead. I stand and look back... laughter, that's what I would have produced had I still been alive. It was so close I would have had no choice but to laugh my elation.
But I was not alive. Not any longer.
I turned from the demon, angrily hissing it's disgust that I had fled and soldiered forth.
the winding corridors led me past other hollowed undead, skeletal in their malnutrition they were a puny task compared to the demon I had escaped. a few held weapons and armour above the standing of my own, but none lasted long once I chose to defeat them.
I found stronger weapons and a better shield along the path, readying me for bigger and badder things. It was shortly after laughing to myself that I'd be fine so long as I didn't have to fight against that damn demon again when I found myself once more before his doors. the corridors had lead me around in a circle.
I stared up at the great doors, heart pounding in my chest... except... it can't have been. My heart didn't beat anymore, yet I could feel it. Perhaps like those who have lost a limb and find themselves with a phantom itch on their missing apendage those who had lost their life would suffer a phantom heart beat from time to time.
I sighed, warming myself by the bonfire for a moment and steeled myself. I could do this; I was stronger than I had been the first time the beast had bested me. I had stronger weapons, better shields and a new wealth of experience.
I was not the weak Undead I had started as... yet that first monster to kill me still held a grip upon my heart. I had no choice however. I moved forward. I pressed my hand againts the door and- it wuldn't budge... it had been barred...
Relief, shock and bewilderment flooded through me. Was I trapped in here now? Had I missed my chance to escape?
I stepped back and searched the room. Nothing. I returned the way I came and instead of coming down the stairs I began my journey upward- no sooner had I started moving did I feel the rumble and hear the bangs of movement. I looked up to fine somethign large and heavy flying towards me. I leap aside and watch it roll past, narrowly missing me before it slammed into and through a wall below.
Curious I followed it through into the room beyond to find a man, lying on his back atop a mound of rubble. Careful and cautious I move closer, blade in hand. He looks up at me and I see the relief in his eyes.
"Oh, you.... Your no hollow, hm?" He says, calm, as if he didn't appear to be upon his death bed. "Thank goodness. I'm done for I'm afraid. My insides are damaged. I'll die soon, then lose my sanity. I can feel it coming. I wish to ask something of you. You are a godsend, to come at this moment." He chuckled, as if to a joke that I had not been made aware of, before looking back to me. "You and I, we're both undead; hear me out will you?"
I paused for a moment but then nodded, stepping closer and kneeling before him.
"Thank you. Regrettably; I have failed in my mission, but perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family; Thou who art Undead, art chosen... In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords... When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know."
He coughed and gagged for a moment, but he didn't move. I frowned down at him, certain that he would not speak again, but then he continued.
"Thank you for hearing me out... Well, now you know, and I can die with hope in my heart..." He coughed again, a great gurgle of a cough. Sputtering before one final utterance. "Oh, one more thing: Here, take this. An Estus Flask, an Undead favourite. it should prove useful." He laughed, offering me a golden bottle. Once more it was a knowing laugh that I was yet to understand. I do not claim not to have felt joy as the laughter moved into a final coughing fit. "Oh, and this..." he handed me a key. "Now I must bid farewell... I would hate to harm you after death... So, go now... And thank you...."
His body fell limp and he was gone.
I sighed and stood up, returning back through the wall to the stairs. I looked back at his body once more, then down at the flask. It would serve as a reminder what could still happen were I not careful.
The home for the key was not far, up the stairs and behind an armoured hollow. I made short work of him and continued. Three more undead, lost to madness fell before my blade before I found myself at a wall of mist.
Once more I steeled myself uncertain of what was to come. would I even survive the transference to the other side? I took a breath and stepped through it.
I found myself on a small balcony, over looking the demon. It stared up at me with all the hate and malice it could offer and my mind went back to my first moments out of the cell.
I thought about the excitement, the relief and the posibilities that lay before me... and now- staring down at the demon of the asylum I can't help but wonder if I had made the right choice. If I had not been foolish by venturing out of my terribly safe cell.
I shook my head. It was far too late to wonder.
I leapt from the balcony, my new weapon in hand and planted it into the head of the demon. blood flowed freely from the wound, but it was not defeated. I leapt from its head to land behind it. I spun on my heal and struck again, Once, twice, three times in it's back. It spun with it's hammer and I rolled away. It staggered adn I moved back in for the kill. My sword struck deep into it's gut, I almost grinned at my achievement, but I was thrown back by the power of the demons great weapon.
I felt my ribs crushed under the pressure. I felt my head swim. I felt the blood in my veins stop for a second... and I knew that I was going to die again.
All that training, all those souls and I was going to die again... my hand brushed against something warm on my hip. I pushed myself to my feet and checked my hip to find the flask that the knight had given me.
I looked up at the Demon baring down on me and took a sip of the flask. I had figured that I might as well get something to drink before I die, but then something unexpected happened... my bones healed my mind cleared. The demon struck forth and I rolled past its attack, coming up at it's back. I spun to face it and struck again, and again. My blade carving great chunks from its hide.
strike after strike buried into the beast, long after it was dead. Even as it's body turned to naught I found myself still striking, so happy to have bested such a foe.
Finally I fell to the floor in exhaustion and I allowed myself a moment to rest before leaving through the gate that the demon was guarding.


Well that was my first experience of Dark Souls, retold as a narrative.  Something that a vlogger said recently was that the reason they like Dark souls is that every persons story in it is different. they might go to the same places or kill the same monsters, btu every one of them has a fundamentally different story, so I decided to tell mine.
There will be at least 1 more of these, as I have just completed the next boss, but beyond that I'm not sure. hopefully I'll complete it, but I'm not very trustworthy with such things.

- James

Friday 14 March 2014

I need a PS3

So I thought once I bought my PS4 I'd be home free with my gaming. I wouldn't have to rely on my PS3, which occasionally decides to destroy my TV and I'd be able to play some awesome next gen games.
But with the current line up of games, as you know, I've either completed all the games or I'm not interested. But with the Playstation Plus account that it requires I've been given a dozen really awesome games for the PS3 completely free.
And these aren't crappy or indie games. We're talking about full AAA titles. Bioshock Infinite, Borderlands 2, Uncharted 3, XCOM, Tombraider to name a few. Not to mention that for very little money I bought NinoKuni and Okami. Hell even awesome games like Deus Ex: Human revolution can be attained for as little as £9.

It's made me think that I need a new PS3. Why not use my current PS3, you might say. And you'd have a valid point, except my PS3 is only a 40gb console and games on the PS3 require that you have twice the space whenever you want to install a game. most games that's fine; I just wipe the console and start from scratch every game, but there are some like Nino Kuni that are 20gb on their own, so in order to install you require 40gb.
this is because they need to download the 20gb install package and then put it somewhere before deleting it. it doesn't need to keep 40gb, but it needs it to install.
plus the whole 'seems to be destroying my tv' thing makes me want to aswell.

Ah well I'm sure I'll get one at some point. I just thought I'd talk about it.
Looking forward to Infamous second son next week.

- James

Monday 10 March 2014

Stick of Truth in Review

South Park: The Stick of Truth is the most awful, abhorrent, morally repugnant sickeningly reprehensible piece of crap that I have ever had the good fortune to play and I wish it was twice as long with a much higher level cap, so that I could keep playing.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it is faithful to the show.

While that is pretty much all I need to say for you to get a good idea of what the game is like, I feel like clarifying some things. As the top of the blog says there will be spoilers, but nothing I can write can anywhere close to do it justice.
So first of all we have the primary evil being a green goo that turns any organic tissue into zombie Nazis. Kind of offensive to a lot of people but I could deal with that. Anal probing aliens, pretty standard for south park so any players who are used to the source material probably would be okay. The level where the player had to climb into mister Slaves ass and search through to deactivate a snuke with the help of the spirits of the pleasure things that he had previously killed was par for the course with the lemiwinks episode. Even when the main character had to fake giving randy Marsh an abortion wasn't too far considering the woodland critter Christmas episode.
the only things that made me sit there and think 'Okay, hats a bit much' were the fight scene where the player was shrunk down to an inch tall and fought with another miniature character on your parents bed while they had fairly hardcore sex around you and the level where the player had to fight their way out of an abortion clinic that was infested with Nazi zombie aborted foetuses.
Don't get me wrong I managed to not get offended, but I (a.) am a fan of southpark and have been for a long time and (b.) have no moral compass to speak of. I did however sit there and think 'I have good friends that are really cool about awful things, but this... this would make them stop playing. Possibly cry.'

Despite that (or because of it) I think the game was really fun, the battle system was a little watered down, I grant you but on normal mode I did struggle with a few fights (Al Gore and a bunch of hobos near the beginning to name a couple).
I loved that you played as a completely new kid created entirely by you for this game rather than one of the major south park characters.
My major gripe with the game was that even with all the side quests - and there were not many - it was so short. I took maybe 12 hours including the time I spent on pause and at dinner. I've heard that there's going to be DLC, but I don't know what it'll be, when it'll be out or how much it'll be.
To be honest the £39.99 that they were asking for on steam was way too much for such a short game. £25 as I got it for was alright, but I think it should have only been about £20.
If I could have changed one thing I would have made it so that Tweak was more involved, solely because he's my favourite character and he was barely in it.

All in all it was a great game that I loved, let down by it's shortness and lack of re-playability (there were very few choices to be made and none that impacted the story). I'm glad I bought it.

- James

P.S. do you like how I gave you a list of games I'm going to review and haven't done one of them but HAVE reviewed something completely different? Awesome no?

Tuesday 4 March 2014

Well this is awkward

I don't really have much to say today. I wanted to give you a review of Toukiden but I haven't had much time to play. I was playing at lunch but the last couple of days my lunch has been very short. It's a good game though. It seems to be a more story driven version of Monster Hunter with NPCs that play along side you when you don't have other players to go with.

So I don't have much to say today. I've been working on a scene that I want to turn into something bigger. Have a read and tell me what you think:

“But mother, I’m not tired!” The young boy sighed, as his governess ushered him towards his bedroom. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“Oh, my dear Rhyan.” The mother smiled, walking along side her child and his nanny. “One day you’ll beg your wife or your seneschal to be allowed to go to sleep at this hour. There will be plenty of late nights in your future, I’m sure. There’s no need to use them all up now, my little bird. Tonight of all nights you should be excited for your sleep. It will be your name day tomorrow.”
He was quiet for a moment, looking down upon the smooth, stone worked floor as they travelled to his room. “Will you at least tell me a story?”
“Of course, child. Of what would you like to hear?” She asked. “Adventure and heroism? Of love and romance?” The boy grimaced and shook his head at the notion. His mother smiled with amusement to his reaction. “Of scary things? Of happy things?”
“How about a story of the old times, Milady?” The Governess offered.
“The old times?” Rhyan questioned in confusion. “What’s that?”
His mother looked at the Governess with a hint of mock reproach as they stopped outside his room. “If I were to tell stories of those old memories we’ll never get him off to sleep!” she exclaimed.
“Please mother!” He begged, despite his ignorance of the subject. “Please tell me of the old times.” He held his hands together as if praying as he looked up at his mother’s stern face. She looked back down into his big brown eyes and rolled hers, shaking her head and smiling. “Fine, fine. But only once you are in bed. And you have to promise to go to sleep as soon as we’re done.”
He grinned and nodded. “I promise!”
She brushed her hand through his dark hair and smiled. “Very well then. Miss Anna can you get him ready for bed?” She asked, turning to the Governess. “I will be in in a moment.”
“Of course milady.” She curtseyed before the boy’s mother and opened the door to his room, ushering him inside before following herself. The boy’s room was large, the third largest in the keep, he was quite sure. He’d spent his whole life running around the keep with the other children that lived there, playing knight and barbarian or Lord’s guard. He liked Lord’s guard most because, as the heir to Raven’s Keep he always got to be Keep, while they - the children of people in his father’s employ - played his King’s guard.
They tried to use Raven’s Keep’s receiving hall as his throne room when they were playing, but most of the time Rhyan’s father, Lord Craise Ravenborn, was holding court in it. the next largest room was his parents room and then his own.
The room was adorned with the dull grey and black of his father’s crest, but scattered with colourful toys from across the five city-states. Wooden horses and finely carved toy weapons from the dragon lands in the north to strengthen his arm. Intricate and complicated puzzles from the City State of the Leviathan in the East, toward the sea, to hone his mind. A grand toy castle made of carefully carved stone from the Basilisk Deserts to the south to give the boy a mind for castle warfare. Even a true bloodwood bow with six ebony tipped arrows from the Western forests of the Griffin to teach him focus.
Governess Anna lead Rhyan to the bed and sat him down to unfasten his leather boots, his light wool shirt and his light brown trousers. He let her do this without question, leaving him naked as she led him to the adjoining bathroom. Some might have felt ashamed or exposed by such treatment, even some so young as six summers old, but it had always been so for Rhyan. Governess Anna always helped him. Perhaps if someone new were to try he would feel differently, but with the Governess that was simply how things were.
As always the bath was ready prepared with oils and soaps. they had once used perfumes, but he had felt it too girly and made that it irritated his skin. He climbed into the back and sat forward as Governess Anna rolled up her sleeve and took a sponge from a small wooden table nearby.
After a long moments pondering, as Anna began to scrub at the boy’s back he looked up at her. “What were the old times?” He asked.
She smiled and continued to scrub hard, young boys have a talent for getting dirty she often said, It is a good thing I have a talent for getting things clean. “The old time, little bird, was an exciting time, long ago, before the city states existed, before the houses of the Dragon, of the Leviathan, of the Basilisk or the Griffin were ever established. Your mother was a scholar of the old time in her youth.”
“Whats a scholar?”
She pursed her lips for a moment as she bade the boy sit back. “A person who learns things.”
“I learn things, I can read and write now, and do sums. Does that make me a scholar?”
She chuckled. “I suppose it does, little bird. Your mother learned all about e magic of the old times."
"Magic?" Rhyan asked excitedly.
"Yes, little bird. Magic of all kinds. Not limited as now to the elements, but grand weaving magic, spells and sorceries.” Anna explained.
“Wow.” He intoned as she lifted him from the bath and patted him down with a soft black towel. She set the towel aside and he lifted his arms up to accept a thin wool night shit. He grimaced slightly as it itched under the arms, but he was used to that and made no complaint. It didn’t matter, he’d take it off as soon as his mother and the Governess left him for the night. How was he supposed to sleep in such a stifling outfit in the middle of summer anyway?
Governess Anna took his hand and lead him back to the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind them. The door to his bedroom opened a crack as they entered, and he heard his mother's voice quiet and terse outside.
“Enough.” She said. “We will not speak of this again or you will not be welcome within my home.” There was a moments pause and then she added, “It is that. it is my home.”
The door opened further and his mother appeared, smiling happily, not a note of displeasure on her expression as she stepped in. Before she closed the door, however Rhyan saw his Uncle standing beyond, an angry- livid expression consuming his features. His eyes followed Rhyan’s mother, and then settled on the boy for a moment before the door swung closed.
“Well now, don't you just look spectacularly clean!” His mother exclaimed.
“Why is Uncle Gieve angry?” The little bird asked.
His mother looked back over her shoulder with a surprised expression. When her gaze returned to her son it was happy again. “Oh, your uncle’s favoured fencer lost his fight in the arena this morning and you know how your uncle loves his arena fights, little bird. Now,” she said, raising a finger into the air before her face. “What was I supposed to be doing? Saying goodnight and leaving you to sleep?”
“No!” The little bird argued. “Tell me a story! You promised!”
“Of course!” She exclaimed,as if just remembering. “A love story filled with kissing and snuggling?” She asked, grabbing her son up and lifting him onto her hip.
“Ew!” the child said. “Not that!”
“No?” She asked, mock confusion on her face. “What then?”
“A story of the old times!” He pleaded.
She smiled, “Fine fine!” she said, dropping him down onto the bed. he bounced once and crawled up to the edge of the covers and tucked himself in beneath them.

It's about to take a turn for the darker. I hope it works out and I'll keep you updated.

- James