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FFM # 20 - The Break Up“I--I’m sorry, what are you, again?” Sherra had been staring for the better part of a half hour from her sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket with a box of kleenex in one hand and ice cream in the other. Thirty minutes ago, she’d been crying her eyes out over Derek--that jerk--and then...And then well..
“A fairy!” Cheerfully repeated. The fairy was the roundest, roly-poly one she had ever seen, with bright pink hair and bright pink wings that every time they flapped together, pink dust shimmered down from them and coated everything. Eventually, it disappeared.
“A..fairy.” Sherry repeated. “What...What sort of fairy?”
“Oh honey,” she said, puckering her face up in sadness. “I’m the fairy of break up recovery. I noticed you were almost out of death by chocolate, and we can’t have that now, can we?” The fairy giggled and jiggled.
Sherry carefully weighed her options, leaning forward on the couch.
FFM # 19 - A Rat's Revenge“Subject N-J140884,” he began as he stopped before the cage. His latex gloved fingertips briefly picked up the report tied to the bars of the cage to skin the information over it. Behind him, many young students gathered with wide eyes, the sound of their pens and pencils scribbling madly.
“Subject N-J140884, as you know, is rather famous. This female has helped us better understand and map parts of the brain we did not have any information before.” He gestured to the dull eyed female behind the bars. Her head shaved so that electrodes and wires could be drilled directly and connected into her the study subject: her brain.
“Without her, we may never have discovered how to domesticate her kind.”
The female in the cage made a moaning sound, causing all of the new students to back up in fear. He smiled patiently, as he remembered his first year as well.
“Not to worry. She is thoroughly drugged.”
“Mmmmm--” the female said again.
FFM # 18 - Mr. Widow's Tea ShopIn a cozy little town on a cozy little corner, Mrs. Edwina (she was always called Mrs. Edwina, and over the years some of the children forgot her last name and they in turn forgot to tell their children, and so it was. She didn’t really mind) had a lovely little tea shop. It was quite charming, you see, a brilliant and spotless white victorian front to the store with gauzy curtains sporting tiny pink roses. A white fence protected a tiny little garden filled with real red roses and daffodils, sunflowers and such. There was even a quaint little welcome mat slightly askew that said: “Warm Welcomes our Specialit-TEA,” trimmed in swirling little flowers.
Mrs. Edwina was enjoying the usual day. There were a few of the towns folk gathered around her polished round tables with white doilies and white table clothes. Rows of teas stood behind the counter where the register was and the wooden floor was always spotless and shiny. Sun cheerily beamed down in such a way as to not
FFM # 16 - Of the Featherless TribeVarrok of the Sun Stone, speaker of the Skies was old. He could feel age creep upon him in his hollow bones. Though the sun shone above him and the clouds whispered a sweet day as winds ruffled the long grass of the plains around his gathered people; their moods were sour. Their beaks and eyes dark. He stood upon the stone with the Speaking Staff clutched firmly in his talons. When he raised his foot to tap it to the stone to signify the beginning of his judgement, it was most usually a means to silence the crowd. Today, the sound rolled over the silence of them all and reminded him of the plains thunder before a storm.
“We are one mind, one feather, one flock,” he began, the words so old none could say when they began. They simply where. The crowd solemnly repeated them.
“I have called you today to pass Tarro’kar, judgment upon one of us. One of us has done something that is not Amushor. One of us is no longer part of the flock. He has done unclean things--
FFM # 15 - Cradle of SnakesThe first day she lost feeling in her toes. They tingled with rushes of pinpricks that reminded her of the rush and hiss off too full river. It had rained on the first day, bringing out the sounds of birds and many of the monkeys that came to hang from brown vines in the rich green foliage above--as if to mock her. The rain did nothing to help the oppressive heat of the jungle; it made the temple opening yawn massive and dark. Water made rivulets staining the laterite bricks that looked like the temple wept blood. Figures carved along the temple turned their judging eyes down toward her. When the night of the first day came she could barely stand long enough to relieve her bladder, then when she returned exhausted, as she tried to nod off the insects bit her mercilessly. Stinging, itching, swarming--she got no rest the first night.
The next day dawned with the buzzing chorus of more insects singing warnings of the heat. The sun as soon as it touched the sky burned on her skin where it
FFM # 14 - Waters of Youth“And that right there, mistress,” he pointed along the barren vista until his finger stopped on a particular blasted as well as burnt chunk of land. “--was known as Central Park.” His lights as he constantly worked on calculations, communicating, movement and self diagnostics fluttered blue or orange.
“Cen-ral Park,” she tried.
“Central Park,” he corrected with patience that a human could never replicate.
She listened to him tell her more about the park, about horse and carriage rides, about performances and music, things she had never seen such as trees, grass in abundance and a beautiful reservoir of water. All she could see from up on her hill as far as the eye could see was baked earth. Cracks in the ground where the sun had cooked it to death. Brown, dried grass, flat places littered with yellow-white bones of animal and human alike. Yesterday, Mr. Pibbles, her new found kitten (missing an ear and a large patch of fur, one green eye
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