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Flash Fiction #1: Freestyle

Discussion in 'Reader's Corner' started by Not Trinity, Oct 19, 2016.

  1. Not Trinity vitae mors fuit ista suae Super Moderator

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    Theme #4708 #1:


    1. Your work must be within constraints of the theme.
    2. Of course, all themes can be interpreted in any number of ways.
    3. 500 words maximum per entry, or else the entry will be disqualified.
    4. Only post one entry per theme. The highest rated entry will choose the next theme.
    5. You may not rate/review your own work.
    6. Add a rating out of ten at the end of your "review".
    7. Be constructive/honest when criticizing a piece. No mindless flaming.
    8. You do not have to enter a flashfic to rate.


    Alright, guys, reboot 3: electric boogaloo. If you don't want to read all that (who reads?), the basic tenants to be worried about: stick to the theme, keep under the word count, and each critique requires a rating out of 10.

    It's a contest but it's supposed to be enjoyable. You can get prizes based on the points we award, but the ultimate goal of the Flash Fiction contest is to help people who want to write get in regular practice with other people, and get constructive criticism from other like minded bibliophiles.

    We're also keeping very strictly to the deadline. One week for writing and one week for critique and that's it; the participation we get is only what you all put into it, and who we can get to enter. Tell your friends, tell your spouses, tell your boss--just get us entrants, please.
  2. Nighty the Mighty I swim in outer space Super Moderator

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  3. ЯƎWO⅃ᖷ F L O W E R

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    Seven-year-old Lily hated when her twin sister Brenda was sent away. The white and black colonial their family lived in was always empty and cold without her. There was hardly anything to do alone, aside from push around her toys and wonder when her sister would be back.

    "Not any time soon," her parents would say whenever she asked.

    Brenda couldn't come home. Brenda was sick and had to stay at a facility. There were doctors there to look after little girls like that. Doctors who could help her get well and keep her safe.

    Keep them all safe.

    Sometimes Brenda would show signs of improvement, and everyone would be hopeful. She could come home, the doctors would say. She had convinced them all that she was cured and no longer posed a threat. It never lasted long though. Shortly after her return, the mayhem would start again and Lily would hear her mother sobbing into her pillow at night. It was the usual things: migraine pills going missing and being replaced with bits of dishwasher tablets, dead cats with their eyes gouged out on the front porch or stowed away in closets, and money being stolen.

    The "talk" always followed the end of each of Brenda's visits. Lily's parents didn't want her to be traumatized. Brenda didn't have a normal brain, they explained, even if they looked just like alike. She didn't have the same chemistry, and wasn't capable of feeling remorse or deep emotions. She was manipulative. She had tricked the doctors into thinking she was well again, but she wasn't.

    She had to go back to the facility.

    "Pray for her, baby," Lily’s mother would say, clasping a shaking hand over hers. "Maybe God can fix her."

    So Lily would go back to playing with her toys alone, and sleeping alone and going to school alone. Everyone felt bad for Lily. Golden-haired and blue eyed, everyone knew how much she missed her sister.

    "Poor thing," people would say, "she must be so lonely in that big house!"

    Sometimes other kids would come over for playdates, and Lily would show them her toys and try to interact. It was her parents way of trying to help. They thought company would be healthy. They thought she would stop missing her sister.

    But she never did.

    Oh how Lily hated when her sister Brenda was sent away!

    It meant she had to be good until she got back.
  4. Stunna Time Lady Victorious Moderator

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    “I’m just saying, there are more productive things you could do with that thing,” Ryan said, taking a swig from his glass. He put it down atop a raggedy book and picked up his controller. “And would it kill you to do that shit outside?”

    His roommate, Robert, took a drag from his cigarette, firmly placing Ryan’s glass on the table. He tapped his cigarette on Ryan’s glass; the ashes rained down onto the surface of the unfinished coke. He blew out the smoke. “If they could, these things would kill me regardless of where I smoked ‘em—might as well do it in some comfort.” He hopped off the couch and shuffled to the kitchen. “And I’ve told you, careful with the book.” He opened the fridge and began pouring a glass for himself.

    Ryan shook his glass in the air. “Mind getting me a new one?”

    Without responding, Robert closed the fridge and shuffled back to the couch with the one glass. “Finish that one first.” Before Ryan could respond, Robert rose his hand. “Look, what I do gets the rent paid on time, no one gets hurt,” he paused to sip his coke. “And I even use my own bedroom,” he said, puffing his cigarette.

    Ryan pressed a button and puts down his controller. “Yeah, but don’t you think it’s… immoral?”


    “Okay, fine, but don’t you think there are more interesting things you could be doing than… this?”

    “Probably. But nothing that would be as profitable for as little work as I’ve got to do,” Robert smirked.

    Ryan’s brow furrowed as he picked up the book.

    Robert snatched it as he got up and walked over to a door in the hallway. He read from the book and opened the door. Out stumbled a dazed middle-aged man with his pants around his ankles. “Ugh… time’s up, dude.”

    The man tripped over himself trying to pull his pants up, begging “wait, wait… just another five minutes? I’ll pay you extra?”

    Robert shook his head, practically dragging the disoriented man towards the door. “Sorry, guy. I’ve got another appointment, but please, make another appointment.” The man continued to plead, but Robert tossed him out the door and locked it.

    Robert looked over at Ryan. “You sure you don’t want a go? Roommate discount.”

    Ryan shook his head.

    Robert shrugged. “Offer stands.” As he said that, someone knocked on the door. He looked through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. “Welcome back, Mr. Bell! How’s the family?”

    “Very funny, jackass. Let’s cut the bullshit, yeah?” Mr. Bell was another middle-aged man; he was taking precaution to hide his face with a notably conspicuous coat and hat.

    “Of course sir,” Robert chuckled, gesturing for Mr. Bell to enter. “Will you be seeing your usual?” Mr. Bell nodded, handing Robert an envelope. “As usual: great choice.” Robert led the man to the room and began flipping through the pages, stopping on one titled “succubus.”

  5. Nighty the Mighty I swim in outer space Super Moderator

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    Spoiler: this feels quite short but I think I'd be overworking it if I kept going

    A forest ring.

    Her life evolves and tessellates out of her grip, spheres have no edges; there’s nothing to hold on to. Some days she wanders and other days she wonders but all days she floats, from thought to place and everywhere in between. Her attachment to it all is purely elementary; she exists in a town, in a country, on a continent set adrift on a sea of boiling iron, on a ball of rock that circles a star that swims through space and time; anchored by gravity, held together by the emotionless bonds of her atoms.

    They called her Aubrey, long for Orb, short for Alberich: short, for an ancient Sorcerer King. She is an Orb on an Orb, it brings to mind the delicate spinning plates of a nameless clown at a birthday party, the children laugh and the women flash smiles full of secret admiration, they could use a man who entertains. The flattened rotations consume her now.

    See now the Earth, only not the Earth, rather an image of a sphere, put to paper by that miniscule few that chance to see it, that few who slip her ever reaching grasp. The grip of heavenly Orb. She looks different from the outside, a nervous wreck, child of a home snapped in twain but inside, caught in her wake, she is beautiful.

    She is glass, stained-glass, a work of art years in the making, slowly melting out of her framed station. Crystal balls tell the future and the future of the Orb is bleak. ‘Aubrey’, they say, ‘don’t fly too close to the sun’. ‘Aubrey’, he says, ‘don’t get all het up’. ‘Aubrey’, she says, ‘you need to focus now’.

    Awoken from the smoky haze of her choking thoughts her eyes stroke the broken oaks, the yoke they formed invoked in her mind, the old cowpoke who drives them now croaks: Soaked. Drowning.

    An Orb drifts
  6. Linkofone Active Member

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    "Is the DT machine still acting funny?"

    "Yeah, it is. You should have known better to let those kids mess around with it."

    It was normal to see the manger of the hobby store, Michael, and the maintenance man, Stephen, discussing the status of the shop. Today, the particular topic was about the newly bought Duel Terminal machine that the manager bought.

    Michael peered at the machine. "It wasn't their fault. The only thing they did was beating the final boss of the game."

    "Well, it certainly isn't hardware problems," Stephen tapped the machine a couple of times. "Maybe all Konami software are wonky. I mean, I constantly hear your employee complaining about those tournament software. Personally, I think they should stop wasting time on these things and focus purely on Pachinko Machines."

    Michael chuckled. "Still salty about Kojima, huh?"

    "You know it." Stephen attempted to restart the machine again. "Anyways, the game isn't responding at all. It wouldn't close even when I pull the plug on it."

    "Yeah, the display screen sometimes would show blurred images and make awkward hyperrealistic sound effects. Then there's these cryptic text that would randomly pop up from time to time." Michael pointed towards the screen.

    "What do you think it means?"

    Stephen's expression deepened. "Who knows. Maybe the Duel Terminal machine is actually an alternate universe, and that the forces of light and darkness are constantly struggling to defeat each other. Maybe every time someone beat this game, this universe is being reset over and over again. And mayb-"

    "Stephen, I think you're crazy. You need to stop watching those crazy cartoons." Michael interrupted. "I'm going to go call Konami to see what they can do about this"

    With that, Michael took out his phone and left the store. The store was now empty.

    "Am I crazy?"

    Stephen stood motionless for a few moments. Then he took out a card from his pocket: Infernoid Tierra.

    "Maybe I am."

    With that, he smirked, and inserted the card into the machine.
    Last edited: Oct 24, 2016
  7. shit shit is divine

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    The little boy was playing in the woods. For most of his life he had spent each afternoon exploring a bit more of the sprawling wilderness butting up against his neighborhood. He dashed excitedly toward the border of the yet known territory.

    There was something about when the birds all took a break from their chirping at once that filled him with a rushing dread. His breath slowed to a shallow puff from his slightly open mouth, and he darted brazenly out into the unknown.

    Soon the sounds were back with his confidence. He stopped to admire a wide tree with strong branches jutting out every which way, presiding over the forest like a strong patriarch over his family.

    As his eyes glanced down to the base he noticed a figure in the tree’s immense shadow. The small form was that of another child, and the boy made an audible gasp.

    His greeting died in his throat as a spark appeared in the shadow child’s hand, as if those other hands had just struck a match. The light slightly illuminated the figure enough to show the edges of a sneering smile.

    The match fell to the ground, and the dried leaves turned to fire. The boy staggered back as he saw the ground erupt in hot light, then spreading toward him as if in a sprint. He glanced back up at the father tree, now engulfed in fire.

    The boy turned and ran away, looking around him for the way. It dawned on him he didn’t recognize anything around him, and the unknown feeling of desperation took hold. He was in tears, his staggering feet clambering over slick moss and rock. His eyes shut as he dashed for what seemed like forever, the fire biting at his neck and heating up his clothes like an oven.

    When he opened his eyes, he was suddenly within sight of his house, and he could see his mother out in the yard. He screamed for her, and she dropped what she was doing and looked up at him like she had seen a ghost. He ran head long into her open arms as she asked over and over what was wrong.

    The boy glanced behind him between sobs, seeing nothing but his familiar forest, calm and untouched. He turned back and buried his face in her dress, sobbing, “I dun… I don’t know…” His mind was a blank, the recent panic having washed away all memory and thought like bleach.

    The mother looked up and saw a small figure, as if that of another child, peeking at them from the shadows of a tree. She scowled at it, but when she tried to make out the face of the figure a deep dread rumbled in her bones. She dropped her eyes down to her boy. A second later she looked up and the figure was gone.

    “Let’s go inside,” she said with a quiver. “The air’s getting cold. Autumn must be setting in.”
  8. Leeroy Jenkins Sugar is sweet and so is honey

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    Hobbles, the Adorable and Excessively Fidgeting was wandering the grasslands and generally working on not being excessively fidgety when, suddenly, a rustled rooster was spotted barreling toward Hobbles. He immediately began to shiver in rage at such an audacious act of disrespect and began barking its great displeasure. The rustled rooster was undeterred though and kept on barreling toward him. Suddenly, it felt a massive pain in his heart. He didn't know it yet because he never visited a cardiologist, but he had such high blood pressure from his anger issues that he was in danger of a heart attack. This was that heart attack.

    This is not the end for our hero though. This adorably fidgety pudu was about to become moderately exceptional. This pudu fought back. Hobbles hobbled closer to the rooster after the very mild heart attack subsided and bit the shit out of the rustled rooster until the rooster became very alarmed and panicked and ran away. Hobbles then hobbled to the nearest cardiologist. The one the very top of a mountain slope. He hobbled his tiny little self up the slope despite having another heart attack along the way from exertion and collapsed outside the clinic.

    2 hours later, Hobbles woke up from his slightly less fidgety, but even more adorable unconscious state and was immediately greeted with his health history. 2 heart attacks, high blood pressure, too much stress from being too adorable and anxious, and a purple heart because they saw him fuck that rooster up and they knew they had to award him for his service. He was prescribed a pound of kale and a membership to one of the Gracie jiu jitsu gyms. 5 minutes of Hobbles fidgeting while the nurse was trying to place the bag of goodies around his neck later, he exited the cardiologist with a sense of purpose. He hobbled to the gym and began his quest to become a black belt and never looked back, though he did fidget a bunch.

    Any edits are basically for things like correcting "it's" to "its" because it irritates me.
    Last edited: Oct 25, 2016
  9. Sauce Well-Known Member

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    Spoiler: 495
    My hands feel like they're going numb. The air is thin. Breathing as turned into a challenge. Mt. Silver. The trainers Red and Gold. From what I've heard, this place has a history of being a proven ground for trainers. This place has long been abandoned. Not visited by any trainer for years.

    Finally, I reach the summit. I walk to the edge of the summit and take in the view. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain.
    "Argh!" I scream. I slide down towards the cliff and off. I grab the ledge. I look down. I try to hold on longer but my fingers slip.

    Frantically, I go to my waist and grab any Pokeball. I throw it upwards. The Pokeball flies upwards and a Pokemon appears. Garchomp appears underneath me and stops my fall. I cringe as Garchomp's rough skin digs into my skin. Garchomp's claws crash into the side of the mountain. Garchomp balances itself and propels itself upward.

    We land back on the summit. When we reach there, I see what knocked me off. An, odd-looking Charizard stands tall and raises its wings. Sharp scales lined the tail near its flame. Its wings were decrepit. It mega evolved?

    The Charizard flies into the air followed by immense heat and pressure. I cover my face from the sunlight. The snow around the mountain's cliffside melts creating a torrent of water. Garchomp hooks my jacket by its teeth and flings me onto its back. We escape the water and soar into the air. The Charizard pursues us. It opens its mouth and spews flamethrowers. Garchomp dodges them. Eventually, it catches up and opens its mouth. I turn back and recognize the formation of the flames in its mouth. Fire Blast.

    "Garchomp, protect!" I call out. A barrier appears in front of me and the flames fizzle out around it. "Dragon Rush!" Garchomp rushes towards Charizard hitting it head on. It flinches. "Now, Dragon Claw!" Garchomp's claws glow green and crash on top of Charizard's head. It crashes down into the summit.

    I land on the summit with Garchomp. Charizard, although visibly hurt, stands tall more defiant than ever. Charizard cloaked itself in fire and charges directly towards us. I press on the keystone on my mega ring. The Garchompite activates. Garchomp is surrounded in a barrage of swirling, auras. Garchomp appears before me in his new state. Charizard continues. "Outrage!" I yell.

    A red aura appears around Garchomp. It charges headfirst into Charizard. The two clash. Sparks flare as the two grapple with each other. Charizard's strength gives and is on bended knee. Garchomp continues to headbutt Charizard. It was clearly defeated.

    "Garchomp, enough!" I yelled. Garchomp turns to look at me and I see the red in his eyes fade. I run to Garchomp and notice there is something wrong. It's gone?

    Waiting in the Pokemon Center, I wonder if I made it all up in my head. I take Garchomp and leave.
  10. Pharah 「 Fly Casual 」

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    "Mr. Graves?"

    The sound of my own voice cut through the silence like a train, the only other noise around us being the soft rustling of a light breeze kicking up little granules of dust and dirt. I had only known the man named Joshua Graves a few precious hours. Little did I suspect upon first seeing him that they would end up being some of Mr. Graves' last few precious hours. As I look at him, kneeling before nothing but God, I noted he could not have been much older than myself. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth were faint on tanned, pockmarked skin, as deep scars on his jawline cut through an otherwise heavy curtain of facial hair.

    I took a breath, looking to call out to Mr. Graves again when he rose to his feet, spurs on his square toed boots giving a soft jingle.

    "Y'sure to seein' this through, preacher?"

    I still found myself taken aback at the gentleness of his voice; it betrayed his appearance, none of the gravel of his gruff exterior. His gloved hand reached down to his hip, fingers taking the revolver from its holster by its pommel. By the time he had turned he was gripping the weapon by its chamber as he held out to me sidewards.

    I had no lacking familiarity with such a weapon, but it'd be a fair assessment to say that our relationship was a tad bit strained.

    I took it from him nonetheless.

    My eyes drifted from the gun up to him, stopping just above the collarbone. A fresh scratch, one that looked plenty deep enough to join his other array of scars given enough time. Time was something that Mr. Graves did not have. He must've caught me staring as I soon found myself staring at the back of his broad shoulders, then the sun in the midst of its setting as Mr. Graves dropped to his knees once more.

    Silence. A pained moment of thoughts running wild. There as nothing left to be said. We both knew the inevitability of Mr. Graves' affliction. But I couldn't very well leave it just like that.

    "You... quite certain 'bout this, Mr. Graves?"

    His response was immediate. "If you worryin' 'bout your own soul, preacher... think y'know damn well I'm already dead."

    He was not wrong. After what we had both seen in our short time together, it was the only way of thinking of things. Revolver in hand, I brought the muzzle up to the back of his head, finger loose on the trigger as my thumb pulled back the hammer to a distinctive and foretelling click.

    "Only in this world, Mr. Graves."

    Total: 451 words
  11. Not Trinity vitae mors fuit ista suae Super Moderator

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    Spoiler: for saru, with love

    There was a man, a wee little man, a knockoff of a man.

    You couldn’t call him a man, really. He stood, examining the the door, quivering as much as his girlfriend’s vibrator did. His eyes darted around like ping pong balls, not sure where to go. He was a demon slayer. A rather spineless one at that, too.
    He would wake up at the crack of dawn eliminating boisterous behemoths, pesky pixies, wrathful witches, and things that refuse to stay dead.
    But this morning was different. This morning he stood on the doorsteps, waiting on the warlock to answer his fifteenth knock. An inconsiderate dick, that one. He was more of a last resort.

    Right before he was about to turn back, he heard a knock back. He took a breath. “O-open up. It’s urgent. I would not’ve gone here--”

    “Saru? The door is unlocked, you boob.”

    He looked down at his scuffed up shoes. “Oh.”

    He turned the knob and was soon greeted by a baby-faced warlock. The warlock scoffed. “Well?”

    “I’m sorry, but, I’ve been tracking this repugnant creature for days. She tore the flesh off my partner. I came here to ask about your dark magic and what it would cost-”

    “Your soul.” The warlock gave him a deadpan expression. He then chuckled. “It’d be $89.99 plus tax for an immobilizing spell. Gotta get more money for my death metal collection, somehow.”

    “But it’s Trinity, the darkest and vile creature of the land.” At that, the warlock’s eyes twitched. He adjusted his hat and crackled his knuckles. He started snorting.

    Trin? You’ve been tracking Trin?”

    “Yes, the huge scary-teethed demon, the one who tore-!”

    “That’s a skin she wears.”

    “A skin?” Saru blinked.

    Ugh. Don’t tell me she’s wearing that one basilisk skin.”

    “Yes, a basilisk-”

    The warlock rolled his eyes. “Trin! Trin you little shit. I call upon thee! You cannae escape from me!”
    A small woodland pixie appeared in the middle of the warlock’s espresso dining table. Bits of flesh dripped from her tiny pink mouth. She burped.

    “What the hell? I was just feasting upon another bod-” Her bewildered expression quickly twisted into disgust at the sight of the warlock. “Boskov. Remove this spell at once.

    “You see this rude little shit? Get me a plastic spoon, Saru.”

    She must’ve been three inches tall. Saru cocked his head and searched for the spoon, and handed it to Boskov.

    “We had a deal.” The thing screeched.

    Boskov smirked. Saru blinked some more.

    The warlock licked his lips and grabbed the small thing by her neck, lifting her off the table and placed her in the spoon. He bent the spoon back and there she catapulted into the garbage.

    “That’d be $899.99 plus tax.”

  12. Saru slave to ambition Retired Mod

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    Spoiler: i'm sure i'll look back on this in a few days and cringe



    The knife hit the ground with a thud.

    “You have 24 hours to make a decision. Remember, one stays; one goes.”

    The hatch slammed shut.

    "Can we have something to eat?" Sara shouted. Her question bounced off the walls of the concrete prison countless times, but no one answered. Sara coughed as stray mold spores infiltrated her lungs and scratched against her throat.

    Suddenly, a pile of nearby chains jolted to life. The shackles around Sara’s wrists and ankles buckled as she jumped up with the urgency of a frightened squirrel. Sara watched the small, chained figure from nearby intently as it crept through the darkness towards the knife that had been thrust into the prison chamber. The figure stepped into a spotlight made by the sole light in the chamber, which illuminated the knife from above.

    “Good morning. You look like hell.” Sara said, smirking as she tried to conceal the fear in her voice.

    The figure looked up. It was a small girl, with brown hair like Sara’s and big, blue doe eyes.

    “What are we going to do, Sara?”

    “Not that, obviously.” She responded.

    “You don’t think I would do it, do you?” the girl asked defensively.

    Sara glanced at her sister out of the corner of her eye to gauge the sincerity of her reaction. The truth was that she didn’t know. Sara adored Madeline, but not enough to trust that she wouldn't betray her out of self-preservation.

    “Of course not, Maddie.” Sara said casually. “Come over here.” She motioned for her sister to come sit beside her. The chains keeping Madeline attached to the wall were just long enough.

    Madeline stooped to grab the knife, then plopped down beside her sister. Sara put her arm around her.

    “When I’m stuck with a day, that’s gray, and lonely” Sara started. Tomorrow was her sister’s favorite song, and Sara had loved to sing it to her to calm her nerves when she was younger. Sara sang the tune until Madeline fell asleep in her arms.

    Poor thing. She’s probably been up all night, Sara thought. Sara strained her eyes in the darkness and saw the knife lying beside her sister. Was she really considering this? Maddie gazed upon her sister’s slumbering body. She looks so peaceful, Sara thought.

    Suddenly, Sara was swept up in a whirlwind of emotions. She longed to see her father’s goofy face again. She longed to celebrate graduation with her friends. She longed to work alongside her peers at the company of her dreams. She longed to one day find the perfect husband and raise children.

    Then she thought of the nightmares and trauma Maddie would endure if she was forced to kill big sister.

    Sara wasn’t going to force her sister to make that decision. She was going to make sure her sister remained pure.

    She picked up the knife.

    "Tomorrow, tomorrow... "
  13. Kasuke Sadiki Jenius Air

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    Spoiler: 500

    When Merren finally found his brother he was standing right on the edge, gazing down at the view below him. The strange thing was, Roman had always been afraid of heights. He didn’t look the least bit scared now though. And it was a long way down.

    “Ain’t that a little risky?” Merren said as he approached Roman and stood beside him.

    “Shit. Up until Tuesday the biggest risk I’d ever taken was coming here to try and bail you out, and look how that turned out.” Roman glanced at Merren with a smirk, but Merren felt a pang of guilt.

    “If I had known this was gonna happen…” He trailed off as Roman burst into laughter.

    “It’s not your fault. Not even you could fuck up this badly.” The warm smile on Roman’s face made the comment sting less.

    “Thanks, and fuck you too,” Merren responded without much feeling. “What’s gotten into you?”

    “You have to ask? Look around. We’re in the middle of a goddamn miracle.”

    “And what happens when the miracle is over?”

    “I have no idea. For once I don’t know what comes next. And I fucking love it.” He looked around and Merren followed his gaze. All around them was blue, not a single cloud in the sky. It was only when he looked down that Merren could even see that the land they were standing on was floating a few thousand feet above the earth.

    “This must be how you usually feel.” Roman added, his voice quieter than before.

    “Yea well the thing about that feeling is, it fades real quick.”

    “All the more reason to enjoy it while it lasts.”

    Merren had no idea what to make of his brother right now. The exasperated, judgmental Roman he was familiar with was nowhere to be found.

    “I went around the whole thing,” he finally said. “It’s like someone literally carved around the borders of this town, ripped it out of the earth, and decided to make it into an airship.”

    “You think if we look underneath we’ll see a bunch of propellers keeping us up?” Roman leaned forward a little bit, as if he might be able to catch a glimpse. Merren had the urge to reach out and yank him back away from the edge. “Or maybe some hot air balloons tied to this rock with invisible strings?”

    “I just hope no one uses the invisible scissors.”

    “We could always just beat them to the punch.”

    “What do you mean?”

    Roman gestured outward at the blue abyss in front of them. “A leap of faith.”

    Roman turned, and for the first time since their conversation had begun, looked Merren in the eye. Merren could tell he was serious.

    “Don’t be an idiot. You think gravity will be as kind to us as it’s being to this land we’re standing on?”

    “Let’s find out.”

    Merren wasn’t particularly surprised when Roman stepped off the edge. It was the fact that he followed that shocked him.
  14. Not Trinity vitae mors fuit ista suae Super Moderator

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    Everyone go home

    Ratings thread is here:
    Last edited: Oct 27, 2016
  15. Nighty the Mighty I swim in outer space Super Moderator

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    you're linking that thread wrong :catsupine

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