This is—what do the humans call it? —Heaven, Therrus thought. I can be myself and still be around the humans and all the great stuff!
The convention hall teemed with humans, many of them dressed up as various characters from the Earthan sci-fi media Therrus
Today was the day that Therrus would see a ghost. Or maybe Bigfoot. He hadn’t decided which one to look for first. Since coming to Earth two months ago, he’d heard humans voice a variety of opinions about creatures that may or may not exist.
To better understand this fascinating aspect of human culture,
“Ag shame skat, they’re full. These trips are very popular you know.” The motherly receptionist patted Therrus’ arm. “I can sign you up for the next trip, though. It’s on…” She flipped through a large book. “May 4th. Next Tuesday.”
Therrus fumbled with his glasses, trying to make sense of her heavy accent. Shame? Had
Beauty is as essential as breath to me. Art is my bread and meat. I sought a painting of a beautiful young girl in an oval frame titled Death in Life. A feat of artistry so a realistic that legend held it had drained the vitality from the subject herself.
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“Do you mean to tell me that Henry Wotton of all people invited an American peasant to one of his parties?” Dorian Gray wrinkled his flawless nose.
Gazing with admiration at the dark-haired woman in navy-blue silk chatting with Lord Henry, Basil Hallward shook his head. “Caroline Brooks is scarcely a peasant, Dorian.
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