The Fibbers' Page

“Thank you dearie,” Hope said as she reached slowly for the coffee cup from her first-born teenage grandchild, Nerissa. Doing that takes out a lot from her. It is very trying for her to keep her hand twitching in check. Nerissa sat down across from her in the small round wooden table in the upstairs landing right after one enters the front door. On a corner of this 40 square feet landing is a wooden stair case which leads down to the small modest kitchen adjoining the living room and bedroom. Most of the surfaces of this underground home is wooden, glossy to the touch due to their reddish brown plant extracts that they were brushed with. In the kitchen counter tops, there are clean white ceramic pots arranged in increasing sizes. The pans are hung neatly underneath the overhead glass cabinets containing white plates, cups and mugs. Many of the table adornments and living room furnishings are white with some having hand-painted floral designs. Nerissa putting the second cup

Mr. Keeper, known to his friends as Fat Pat, smiled as he walked away from the pantry with a hot cup of coffee and a donut on a saucer. After putting them by his computer console and before sitting down, he stretched his arms all the way up, put his hands on his waist next then twisted his body to the left and the other side. "Hmm!" he exhaled, content at relaxing the tensions which had built up on his back. Something caught his attention on one of the many monitors mounted next to each other on the wall. A young man suddenly ran off from the waiting area, startling an old man sitting silently in a wheelchair, leaving behind a white paper on the bench. "What's going on?" Pat asked scratching his curly black locks, curious why the teenage boy stormed away. Pat pressed a key for replay. Slowly, the events ran backwards. He saw the young man on the chair with a paper and a pen in hand, writing, thinking then writing again. Then the teen walked over to the

A young lady in a dark leather hooded jacket underneath a thick grey wolf fur cape ran with long strides through the redwood forest. Far behind her she could hear the genetically-modified bloodhounds barking like crazed devils. Images of their elongated muzzles and talon-sharp fangs that could split a rock into two scared the hell out of her. "Kaboom!" she heard a loud explosion coming from the direction where she was running to. She halted and hid herself behind the mossy red sequoia tree, putting a palm to her chest and gasping for air. "I got to find out what was that before I run into more trouble," she thought. A strong gust of wind blew the hood off of her head revealing a pretty oval face topped with long straight blond hair. Her brows rising gently up the brow bone then curving smoothly down. Long lashes shelters her caramel eyes from the small glint of sunshine coming through the leaves above. Her thin nose rising upwards in a smooth straight line