trīgintā   ūnus

"When would you be wise and quit being obstinate?"

He was tired and wearied of playing the hide and seek game. He didn't know if he would be able to put up with the odds again.

He didn't know if the monster was sane enough or he was just being childish. Twas becoming childish to him and nauseating.

He knew that he wouldn't take it anymore. He was hoping that time would help him out. He was hoping that time would feed him.

He was hoping that time would place a tag on it. That was all that he was hoping. He didn't know what to sieve as options anymore.

He was only trying to be sane. That was all a typical person would do. He was more than sure about that.

He was hoping to have the best of the cake. Time was teaching him patience and he wouldn't want to learn in the hard way.

He was making it worthwhile. He didn't know if he would be able to keep up with it or not. He couldn't really be sure.

He needed to sort his thoughts properly before he would agree on whether or not he was supposed to stand. He didn't know how to draw a conclusion.

The more he did try the less his effort did reflect his rage. His pain was dribbling through the course and lawn of his actions.

He could feel a shrill of pain sending signal to his inky airy. There was nothing he could do about it. He didn't know if there was something.

He didn't want to be negative. He was trying as much as possible to be all positive.

He was matter-of-factly in the world of fantasy, there of course should be some rules ascribed to it.

He knew what that was but was simply trying to figure out. That was the best thing he could do. He couldn't had thought of anything better.

He didn't want to think of it. He was only hoping and he did know what hope was capable of doing. He was ready to be a pawn.

Taunted time should keep being that. He would figure the rest out. He knew exactly what that was and he would do.

He didn't even look around to figure out the owner of the voice. He was more than sure that even if he did try to figure out, the person wouldn't be there.

He was allowing time to have its judgement. He was waiting for time to teach the monster how to quit being childish.

He knew that he wasn't so schooled at that aspect and Nemo dat quod non Habet. He didn't want to place a plague on what he couldn't fathom.

He didn't want to be responsible for so many a odds. He should fix the little murk he had ended up in. He should know what to do and how to do.

He was making things obvious of course.There was nothing to hide anymore. If he did hide something, then probably his Instinct was just messing with him.

He didn't know what to be sure of or what not. He was just trying to make the best out of the whole thing. He knew that fate would have its way.

But he had no idea how long he would have to wait for that. He wasn't so patient he did know.

He didn't know what to do then. He would leave nature who did know what to do to figure out. That would help of course.

He did remember that he had held the piece of meat. He was quite close to perfection.

He didn't know what he did do wrong which affected him later. He didn't know what pushed him into the air at first and what he had done before then.

He had changed his walking style. He had had his heart tiptoed. Of course he knew that everyone would do that.

He had done several other things. But he didn't know why he did fall. He was trying to be objective. He thought he did know who swept him and loaned him to the air.

He couldn't be so sure though. He would figure out of course. But how would he do that. He didn't even know how to go about it.

The only thing he could owe the odd to was the fact that he had looked into the pot after he had had grabbed the meat.

That was all. He didn't know what the person wanted to do with the meat. He didn't know if that was the right thing to think.

He was just sieving his chances. The absolute best he could do of course.

He felt a new feeling within himself. He felt like he was a software or an application updated.

Though he didn't know what those were. He felt like a new system had been chipped into him. He didn't know what kinda feeling that was.

He was hoping that he would figure out soon. But he did feel like he was no longer the same. Of course he couldn't prove.

He couldn't find his way around the actions, but he was hoping that he would. He was hoping that he would figure out.

That would be able to assist him. His part of body didn't change per the requirement.

His part of body didn't metamorphose per the new feeling, but he could feel that what was greater than OVID's Metamorphosis had ripped his Sanity off.

He was hoping that he would be able to have a hold on it. He wasn't so sure though. He was only hoping. That was the best thing he could do.

He couldn't had done better than that. He didn't know if he could. He didn't give a trial.

He was waiting for time to have the best of the cake. Of course he could be patient, he had learnt how to.

He didn't stand up straightly like he did in the first place. He wanted to figure out what was wrong and what he was supposed to do to right it.

He didn't know yet but would figure out soon. His head had hit what felt like the force an object get when meeting in vying velocity with a substance of callous clay.

He knew what was. Twas quite easy for him to figure out. He couldn't had done better. He was just skeptical.

That was all or course. He looked behind him. He was lying on the floor of course. There was nothing else that he could had done.

There was no magic that he could had inspired. He didn't even know how to work maigic.

Magic was not the best word he was supposed to use. He hoped that he would find the right word.

He didn't know if he would, but he did hope. He knew that fate would feed him the rage. As he looked, he saw the head made from clay.

He had his neck bent to his own detriment of course.

Twas like the spring holding the neck to the head was about to be ripped. He didn't know. He didn't want to take chances.

He sat up then and turned towards the clay head. Twas the head of a human.

From what he could see,the head was bald and the eyes were delicately carved.

Obviously,whoever that head was representing would of course be good looking and would have his way around things.

He didn't know how true that was but of course he knew that he wasn't telling himself a lanky lie. He would fix it. He was used to it.

Time would supplant the odds. Then as he looked closely, he discovered there were lots of heads hung in the air with tags on them.

He looked and looked till he was unable to catch the glimpse of the whole thing and stood up.

That was the best way to see all. Then he began to look at the tags on the names.

When he did look to the right, there were group of heads too.

But both group or heads were in the corners of the room. Probably that was why he didn't have a grasp of what they were.

Probably that was why he wasn't able to see them in the first place. But he did wish that he would be able to make meaning of the tags.

He didn't know what the heads stood for but of course he would figure out. He would bid his time and make his rage known.

He would stand his ground of course. That was the best feeling he had ever nursed. He did know what was right and what was not.

He knew what he would do of course. He was familiar. Then it occured to him that the tags were names.

Hell, he wanted to start reading when he did hear that voice again:

"Study closely and hard. All for you."

What the hell was wrong with the monster? Was he a psychopath? Of course he was.

Who wouldn't know that he was supposed to figure out the new shit he was seeing?

He dumped the thought to resume the focus. He did swap feelings too.