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  • withkeylymes 6:02 pm on October 29, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: burning food, character study, , OWL, practice, uncommonly burning food, world study   

    An Uncommon Method of Burning Food 

    My eyes were those of owls as I watched my guardian work with the open flame before us; the animal of lore, that is, as Owl’s own eyes were forced into the cynical slant that he appraised the world with. I had never before seen anyone within the world cooking; all those that I knew were too young, and worse than that, fire was dangerous. Not only did it work as a beacon, alerting your location as well as the location of food to anyone nearby, but the pollutants left over from The Rapture worked their unpredictable magic upon the flames, twisting their shape and changing their colour. Before us, the fire flicked blue on Owl’s right, and the dancing element cast his canvas-grey eyes the colour of passion.

    “Never anywhere but on the shore, do you understand?” asked that sodden voice, laced with the deep lilt that only maturity could bring. His eyes flicked to mind, and a curt nod was the response I was expected, the response that I gave. It did not stop the goosebumps that crept up my forearms, stinging slightly as coarse wool rubbed against them; being pinned with that stare could stop anyone in their tracks, and didn’t fail to stop my heart out of the queerest mixture of fear and admiration. “If you must abandon your meal without hesitation, the water will consume it posthaste. If you do not, you risk killing whomever is unlucky enough to be beneath the houses that catch fire from carelessness within the city’s streets, and you do not want to be responsible for the death of another. It is also the only place wherein–”

    As always, the Fog had crept close without warning, and Owl was the one who felt it, the grey in his eyes surely being the proof that he was her child. Owl, child of the City and the Fog within it. My arm was in his in a moment, legs struggling to keep up with the leggy gait of the adult, careless to any struggle I may face, as he would always tell me that it was mine alone to bear, as his were his. Once more off of the sand, we perched, watching the fog roll in from the riling waves of the bay, the overflow of the ocean. His gloved finger stretched forward, angling toward the fire that we had built, now being torn asunder by the violent wind.

    The moment the Fog hit the flame, it sizzled, briefly, as water hitting a coal, before the gases within it came to life. The fire crackled and snapped as though it was filled with flaking, decayed wood, spitting sparks in all directions around it. The flame grew, devouring the Fog like a voracious beast, overtaking the sand, biting and snapping at every surface that the fog touched, a violent woosh of a sound signaling each movement. It grew beyond measure, tears invading my eyes and fear, my heart, looking toward Owl only to find him as blank a slate as always, forehead creased as he watched the creature grow with an age-old spite. I had of course been mistaken; never could Owl be the child of City, as he was far too busy being the archenemy, posing with his hands shoved deep into the bowels of his filled pockets, illuminated all by the orange glow of the flames.

    It was over as quickly as it began, a hiss preluding the very air detonating in front of us. Flames curled outward in thick columns, smoke billowing upward as the first heat I’d felt in so long washed over us at the speed of the wind, leaving the beach void and barren. After the passionate embrace of fire and water, the beach seemed drab and dull beyond the flicker of fire, and my eyes turned again to my leader.

    “Look again,” he murmured, voice carrying a weight that I recognized. When my sight returned to the site that we had been sitting about, there was not a thing remaining. No wood, no pot, no food, simply charred remnants of a visitor once inhabiting the ground, the sand about it melted to glass.

    “Only by the shore, Lye.”

    Unable to pull a single fractured word from my constricted, terrified throat, I could only express my agreement with a series of rapid, very assured nods of the head.

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  • Traci 7:41 pm on February 6, 2011 Permalink | Reply
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    Of Course They’re Real 

    “What exactly is this stuff?” Gentry asked, skeptically, looking at the little figurines. They looked soft.

    “They’re unicorns!” Ceres said, smiling cheerfully.

    “Yeah, I see that. But, what I mean is…what’re they made of?”

    “That’s a really silly question, Gentry! Of course you know what they’re made of!”

    “Uh…no. Or, I wouldn’t have asked.” He sighed. Getting information out of Ceres was like pulling teeth. No matter how straight-forward it probably should have been.

    “…I don’t know how you couldn’t know what they’re made of!” Ceres said, blinking at his friend. Gentry was always a little clueless, if you asked Ceres. Really, he was always asking what something was made of! It was like he didn’t trust Ceres or something!

    “Just answer me!” Gentry was getting fed-up with this. He hated this little round-about shit they went through every time he asked a simple question. And the truth was, he didn’t trust Ceres! Ceres was the weirdest person he’d ever met.

    “They’re made of meat, of course.” Ceres said, sighing as if exasperated with a very slow child.

    “M-meat?!” Gentry stared at the little unicorn figures in horror. Who the hell made unicorn figurines out of meat?!

    “Of course! That’s what they’re made out of in real life!”

    “No they aren’t!”

    “What do you mean? Of course they are! I just have to figure out how to stop them from growing mold and bacteria.” Ceres said, thoughtfully.

    “Ceres! Unicorns are not made out of raw, ground meat in real life! In fact, they aren’t real!”

    Ceres gasped and stared at Gentry with wide eyes, filled with hurt.

    “…What?” Gentry was caught off guard. What had he said that could have possibly given birth to such a look on Ceres’s face?

    “Of course unicorns are real! You just have to believe!”

    Gentry sighed, a vein in the side of his forehead popping out just a little throbbing. “Ceres…unicorns aren’t real. They never were. They’re a myth. Probably a trick of someone’s eyes a long time ago, or the result of people putting together bones the wrong way. Sort of like the myth of the cyclops.”

    “Gentry, how could you say such a terrible thing! You just have to believe! Of course unicorns are real!”

    “Ceres…!”

    “No! I won’t listen! They’re real, I tell you! They are! And they’re made of meat!”

     
    • Fallen Red Ninja 3:03 am on April 10, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      I love the idea of making figurines out of meat, it sounds like a great way to terrorise small children!

      Well written, I love the figurines and the ending.

  • Traci 8:15 pm on February 5, 2011 Permalink | Reply  

    Sly’s Day Off 

    Prompt: Secret Agent Man

    It was supposed to be his day off. His day to relax. His day to have fun! But, instead, what was he doing? He was doing a favor for a friend. A favor that was most definitely not as fun as it was bizarre, and not as interesting as vegging out in front of the television watching an anime marathon.

    Still, this was a favor for a friend. Sly’s best friend, to be exact. And, besides that, it wasn’t like refusing would’ve done much good. After all, there was never any real arguing with Nora. It just didn’t work, she’d look at you like you just told her the grass was pink. It didn’t matter how legit your argument was. It didn’t matter how stupid or bizarre her idea was. You always ended up doing what she asked you to do. Often without even realizing it until you were doing it!

    Thus, enter Sly sitting in his office, on his day off. Not only was he sitting in his office on his day off, but he was staring at the monitors, watching a mouse’s eye-view of the city of New York. It wasn’t really a total loss, though, he supposed. As the camera sped along, sometimes he got a brief glimpse up a girl’s skirt. And…okay, sometimes he turned it back for a second, better look. But, who could blame him??

    Well, apparently the women here weren’t all that stupid, and didn’t really think the remote control car was just some kid’s toy. They realized what it was driving around under their feet for, and more than one woman had chased the car. Thankfully, Sly’s toys all came suped-up. The cars could outrun most of the women.

    Well, unless you counted that Amazon of a woman who kicked the car just a moment ago, and sent it hurtling through the air several feet. Thankfully, he was able to get it back on its wheels and keep it going. He thought perhaps he would stop looking up women’s skirts on purpose, though. Well, at least going back for second looks was out of the question.

    Perhaps this wasn’t a total loss of a day off, after all. He got to be a pervert, and he did a favor for a friend. And, he got to do it while relaxing in a comfortable chair, even if it was his office chair. And from the safety of his office, away from the high heels and sharp nails of women who might have figured out otherwise who was driving that little car and decide to exact some form of terrible torturous revenge upon his innocent and sexist self.

    Plus, this toy was awesome. It had amazing range. It was twelve blocks away! And do you know what that meant? That meant that Sly was a genius. Sure, Nora had come up with the blue prints and everything, but he’d been the one to actually build it.

     
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