Comic Papyrus Novels & Stories

"You surely have work in there that's important?" He nodded weakly in response. "Yes. I don't know how much use it will be though; it's mostly accounts and personal studies. I don't think I kept any books or anything that may help us here." Even so, he eased himself forward to hoist the drawer and peered at the mess of papers. Most, as he suspected, were overheads and various accounts, kept for reference until he was convinced it was safe to shred them. Towards the bottom he came across a few pages of print outs, copies of papyrus he had downloaded for the benefit of the new exhibit.

It's amazing and overwhelming and I've never wanted him more than I do right now. But I stifle that desire for the moment. I want him to keep talking. Orlando has other ideas, though. "That's enough about me," he says. "Christian tells me you drew quite the comic on your tablet today." I should have known Christian wouldn't keep that to himself. "It was just a few quick sketches," I say. "About a beautiful and intelligent hero named Panty Girl." Orlando laughs so long and so loud that I'm shocked he doesn't run out of air.

Dangling in her bag were barley-cakes baked in sweet wine. The soil of the land was black as soot and harsh with rough terrain. As she was told by the voice, she found a cart with a lame donkey carrying a load of logs along the path. The driver likewise lame turned and looked at her with hollow eyes. His face was long with pale and leathery skin. Psyche felt a chill rush down her spine. "Would you kindly hand me those sticks, my lady?" he said. "They have slipped from my load."

Aunt Jules always told me how much I reminded her of her big sister. I placed the picture on the nightstand next to the bed and then I continued to explore the contents of the chest. The next thing I found was a tattered paper scroll. It was old looking and had a weird old, dirty brown colour. I picked it up and it felt grainy against my fingers. "Is that Papyrus!" Zander carefully took the scroll from my hand. "It is. WOW!" He said, he began to examine the scroll more closely. "What is a Papyrus?"

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it could still turn out to be a very odd Japanese sex toy. The Pope’s followers did not have that rotting-off-the-bone look you associate with zombies. Or zombers — I wouldn’t want to offend anyone. They were pale, had a desiccated quality to the parchment-like skin clinging to their bones, and milky balls of horror where their eyes should have been. Which isn’t to say they were bad people. Maybe they were ghouls who ate the dead, but cemeteries take up a lot of valuable real estate, and what exactly are we saving up our dead for?

The final blow that made her fully accept what her two children had now become was when Zack startled from his sleep only to find the entire bedroom engulfed in flame. Thankfully, his panic put them out rather than making the situation worse. “What do you have there?” I questioned, reaching for the papyrus scroll in her hands. She nudged me to the side with her hip, pushing back the mountain of books I had strewn across the tables splintered surface. The heavy scratch of thick paper hit my ears as she unraveled it to its fullest extent. Laced within the golden fillagree was a strange style of artwork that looked both ancient and beautiful.

I said feeling angry. "You are going to pay for your words, Cupcake." I ended the call without responding to him. I was pissed off. After a moment, I received a text on my phone. I clicked on it and read it. 'You will fall for me eventually. Mark my words. -Your real hero C.G.' My mind suddenly remembered something; the napkin. ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

“Limited edition painting. If you wanna buy it, you gotta place a bid. Or, get them for free if you sign up for the club.” He shrugged, feeling victorious. The people were silent, unsure of what to say. Malorie stepped forward, still gaping at the painting. “You…” she began. “It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” Cain boasted. “It’s...marvelously bad!” Malorie exclaimed. “What the hell is this?” She pointed at the painting consisting of stick figures in different colors. The shapes were off, looking like an artwork by a kindergarten student. “This is comic art!” Cain claimed. “This looks as if a child drew it!” she hissed. “This isn’t how you make a comic strip!”

As he took the flower, his eyes focused on a worn leather saccus slung over the boy's shoulder, bulging with rolled-up scrolls. Suddenly, the boy shifted, and one of the scrolls slipped from the saccus, unrolling itself across the cobblestones at Caligula's feet. He looked at it involuntarily, it's like a habit. Caligula's breath caught in his throat.. It depicted a vivid scene of a flowering meadow, rendered with remarkable detail. He picked up the scroll with his free hands, while his fingers with the flower, traced the delicate lines of the drawings. Unlike the blurry figures he saw in the real world, these images were sharp and clear.