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Brant Menswar

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“We live in the Movie Age. We should make a list of the movies we’ve loved and hated, the ones that bored us, inspired us, made us laugh or cry, sick or elated. Then we need to compare those movies with our own life. Would anyone else want to watch the movie of our life? Would we want to watch it ourselves? Maybe we’d be the only person in the cinema even though admission was free. Maybe even we would walk out. And if it was that bad, shouldn’t we be doing something about it? When Hollywood movies really stink, the directors want their names removed from the credits. “Alan Smithee” is the name that gets used instead. How many of us are in Alan Smithee movies? If we could avoid using our real name, we would.”

“There are two types of people in the world: the history makers, and everyone else. Are you ahistorical, outside history, just along for the ride, for the shits and giggles, or are you actually helping to shape history? If you’re not on the side of the history shapers and history makers, fuck off. You’re irrelevant. You’re a joke. Play your part. Spectators not welcome. Sideline snipers – what a waste of space. If you’re not in front of the curtain, where are you? Hiding? You’re invisible, and the world doesn’t care whether you are there or not. Get on the fucking stage and deliver the best performance of your life. We have brought you to the dance. Hop if you can.”

“Keira was surrounded by dozens of tiny orbs, each a unique shade of brilliant color. She was clasping her stomach with both arms, hunched over like she was freezing, trying to hold on to every bit of warmth she could. She looked up at Hoeru and her eyes were glowing with the light of all the magic she was struggling to contain. “Hoeru, close your eyes,” she said through gritted teeth. The wolf spirit realized the threat she posed and snapped its jaws at her. It probably saved Hoeru’s life. Keira exploded.”

“Weird grey forms came pouring out of the woods. They were only about three or four feet tall, but they were covered in taut muscle. Their heads were wider than their shoulders and their mouths, bristling with teeth, stretched from ear to ear. They chattered as they came, shrieking in voices that were at once guttural and chirruping.”

“Eggbeast!” Raziel shouted, his voice finally coming back to him. Hoeru turned, looked at the eggbeast just a few feet away and then back to Raziel. “Yes. That is the eggbeast.” There was a moment of almost silence, the only noise being the wet sloppy sound of the eggbeast’s mouth falling open and its absurdly large tongue falling out of its mouth as it panted happily. “Oh right. I guess no one told you. Kusa convinced it to help us.” “Oh. Thanks. That’s good to know,” Raziel’s words came out stilted as he tried to get his panic and irritation with Hoeru under control. “Sure.” The eggbeast let out a chuffing sound. Hoeru turned his head towards the beast, and it mewled to him, a sound like a squeaky door made for giants. Hoeru nodded. “It also says sorry for trying to eat you.” “You… speak eggbeast?” “Well no. But we both speak squirrel.” “You know, it’s really hard to tell when you’re joking.”