The Minuscule Hat A Short Story by Writer Unknown Josh Ferguson was thinking about Charity Blackman again. Charity was a generous deity with pretty eyes and squat hands. Josh walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had always loved deserted Sludgeside with its tough, thirsty tunnels. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel stressed.

Sympathetic Alex Bogtrotter A Short Story by Anonymous Naomi Parker had always loved industrial Paris with its grieving, greasy gates. It was a place where she felt fuzzy. She was a tight-fisted, daring, squash drinker with blonde eyelashes and hairy fingernails. Her friends saw her as a mouldy, moaning muppet. Once, she had even helped a boiled baby bird recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman he was.

Deprived Falmouth A Short Story by John Doe Jenna Walker was thinking about Graham Gump again. Graham was a greedy angel with ample toes and curvaceous spots. Jenna walked over to the window and reflected on her damp surroundings. She had always loved deprived Falmouth with its creepy, colossal cliffs. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel surprised.

Predatory Boris Meadows A Short Story by Anonymous Boris Meadows was thinking about Dick England again. Dick was a cute teacher with ruddy moles and brown elbows. Boris walked over to the window and reflected on his wild surroundings. He had always loved beautiful New York with its long, loopy lakes. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel shocked.

The Sun that Shone like Gyrating Owls A Short Story by Mr Pseudonym Georgina Wu was thinking about Maureen Pigeon again. Maureen was a funny knight with hairy elbows and tall toes. Georgina walked over to the window and reflected on her cosy surroundings. She had always loved wild Berlin with its wet, wandering waters. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sad.

Scheming Jack Raymond A Short Story by Jane Doe Sonya Olsson had always loved hilly Dallas with its tense, tart tunnels. It was a place where she felt sad. She was a rude, clumsy, whiskey drinker with chubby eyelashes and grubby eyes. Her friends saw her as a jealous, jittery juggler. Once, she had even saved a zesty disabled person that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of woman he was.

Spiteful Sharon Godfrey A Short Story by Jane Doe Pete Barlow looked at the solid book in his hands and felt calm. He walked over to the window and reflected on his deserted surroundings. He had always loved grey Cape Town with its mushy, mutated mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel calm. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sharon Godfrey. Sharon was a spiteful lawyer with curvy lips and red eyebrows.

Dirty Plymouth A Short Story by Writer Unknown Jenna Plumb was thinking about Tristan Superhalk again. Tristan was a giving ogre with pretty arms and ample lips. Jenna walked over to the window and reflected on her cold surroundings. She had always loved dirty Plymouth with its hungry, high hills. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel delighted.

Picturesque Madrid A Short Story by Mr Pseudonym Brad Thunder was thinking about Mohammad Pitt again. Mohammad was a hilarious animal with skinny abs and skinny eyes. Brad walked over to the window and reflected on his idyllic surroundings. He had always loved picturesque Madrid with its raw, real rivers. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sparkly.

The Damp Torch A Short Story by Anonymous Garth Fish looked at the damp torch in his hands and felt sneezy. He walked over to the window and reflected on his grand surroundings. He had always loved dirty Exeter with its courageous, crazy cliffs. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sneezy. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Laura Greenway. Laura was a witty patient with wobbly thighs and solid toes.

The Bendy Hawk A Short Story by Jane Doe Sarah Torrance had always loved chilly Truro with its lonely, long lakes. It was a place where she felt cross. She was a stingy, selfish, beer drinker with pretty warts and grubby fingers. Her friends saw her as a knobby, kaleidoscopic knight. Once, she had even helped a stale chicken recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman he was.

The Sleet that Rained like Cooking Tortoises A Short Story by John Doe Stanley Jones had always loved pretty Amsterdam with its hurt, helpless hills. It was a place where she felt angry. She was a snooty, clumsy, cocoa drinker with blonde warts and ugly lips. Her friends saw her as a mashed, melted monster. Once, she had even helped a resonant injured bird recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman he was.