Art took a cue from his lazy old dog and fell asleep on the sun-soaked porch.

The researcher was confused by his sexual feelings for the mummy he was studying.

Her eyes were a mysterious sea full of dangerous rip tides and foam-tinged eddies.

Eventually the end would come, but until that day she would continue to dance her ass off. 

War weary after five years of violence, both sides agreed to a woeful truce.

The crow chased the thieving seagull.

We waited with growing trepidation for any scrap of news from passing strangers in the weeks following the Day of Which No One Speaks.