The Slangons were a race of gigantic obelisks with cylindrical arms and legs. They were brown with stony skin and a gigantic tooth-filled slit across and three quarters up their enormous forward face.
Jackson stared. His sword seemed tiny compared to the forty foot behemoth in front of him. Angrily, the Slangon lurched toward Jackson and vomited a grating stone-on-stone howl-- the likes of which humanity will never hear.
Jackson swung his sword at the arm of the crazed alien, but the alien's hand was fully five and a half feet long. Jackson would fall with all of humanity.
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99 Words is a pet project I started in 2011 when at college. The idea was that I didn't have time for writing, but still had passing fancies, visions, plot ideas, and the like. Instead of tossing them to the wayside, I came up with a plan to turn those notes into little chunkules of text, each 99 words long. This is section is still updated.