A son no son, unfathers me. Earth, sky and deep, rise, come, be father for me: ascend before him into the day, to cover him from all his light, and your annihilation fall on him!

[…] in my conworld Almea the great navigators of southern Ereláe were the Jei, and undoubtedly Jei-based pidgins sprung up.

Like hungry dogs who have sniffed their meat, the mob bursts in, trampling down the women who sought to bar the entrance with their bodies.

“Oh, them stories. That she's a young beautimous girl and she don't never get old or die. That she can touch you and heal any sickness, or cancer ... or scar. Your friend tell you all that?”