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T.F. Hodge

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“(...) he was lost in successive waves of time, coolly aware of the minimal speck of his own being, seeing himself as the defenseless, helpless victim of the earth’s crust, the brittle arc of his life between birth and death caught up in the dumb struggle between surging seas and rising hills, and it was as if he could already feel the gentle tremor beneath the chair supporting his bloated body, a tremor that might be the harbinger of seas about to break in on him, a pointless warning to flee before its all-encompassing power made escape impossible, and he could see himself running, part of a desperate, terrified stampede comprising stags, bears, rabbits, deer, rats, insects and reptiles, dogs and men, just so many futile, meaningless lives in the common, incomprehensible devastation, while above them flapped clouds of birds, dropping in exhaustion, offering the only possible hope.”

“Our group date is cut short again. This is most unfortunate, and I’m sorry for the discomfort this is causing you.” I addressed the contestants. Whoever this assassin was, he was ruining my competition! All I wanted was to spend time with these astounding young men, and sort out my heart’s true desire; not deal with centaurs, my parents abandoning me, the threat of my crown being given to my brother, or a lover trying to kill me! - Royal Matchmaking Competition: Princess Qloey”