Gris Lee Stories

Fury is not unknown to me. It manifests in times of crisis and I find it’s far and few between the times it’s actually seen. When someone’s died or hurt or wronged it won’t be long before this knight's on guard. Don my devil horns and angel’s armour, for I’ve sworn I won’t be calmer until the threat is barred and banished from our realm. A child before a dragon. A friend before a foe. A lover before themselves. So be it. I land the final blow. I live to serve by instinct. No need for the castle nor the hassle or for you to be distinct about the things I’ve done. As long as you are safe, then I have won. But when the knight’s alone, at home no visible threat at hand, I’m unable to resist. When, for unknown reason the fury still persists. No outlet. No villain to berate No evil to condemn to fate. Just a wall of unrelated words from nobles in their castles and no sort of hassle with them. ...

I braved the storm today. Masked up, arms bare. Dystopian mode operational. Filtering out the sandy wisps. Scouting out the wasteland for some pasta and a couple packs of crisps. I’m the protagonist of this story. Britain’s answer to Mad Max with snacks instead of gas. A tribute in the Hunger Games, satisfying hunger pains. Legs burning like the turning wheels on a red iconic bike. I refuse to be left to fester Fuck New York Escape from Leicester . Is what I’d like to say. I don’t think I could survive another day without turning my life into some kind of tv show. Pretend this is all scripted; That I could’ve predicted how fast they wrote the plot twist in it. And how in just one minute, it wiped out half the cast. I thought I wanted chaos and disruption. My own personal dystopia. Be a hero. The survivor. Find the cure. Scavenge the supplies with Katniss in the cornucopia. But there's n...