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FFM Day 11- Stick Up Barely an hour had passed since the gun had gone off in the crowded bank. The red blossom on Sarah’s stomach had dried. Lights danced through the grey interior of the car. They drove through the night without headlights, soft music crackling through the radio, air vents blowing warm air around.
“A/C’s broke again,” Thom sighed.
“I noticed, babe,” Sarah said. His hand was on the steering wheel. One hand was free roaming up her thigh. She tangled her hands in her short blond hair to feel the texture of the strands. She enjoyed the hot air buffeting her face. She didn’t want to feel cool ever again. She wanted to burn up, to live like a matchstick and burn peoples’ fingers but never burn out. She enjoyed the static more than the music.
The shot had been so loud. It hurt to remember it. The sound shot up through her temple and into her brain. It bor
FFM Day 10 Lila’s mother was holding her hand too tight. The clown in the ring was missing a shoe. He had stepped out of it while two other clowns chased him. Lila was not having fun.
“I want to go home,” she said, tugging at her mother’s hand.
“Sshh, Lila, just be quiet,” her mother breathed.
“This is stupid!” Lila protested.
The second clown had almost caught up to the first, but the third was careening wildly around both of them. Lila was bored.
She managed to worm her sweaty hand out of her mother’s, causing her mother to make a disgusted noise and cross her arms.
Lila hated the stupid clowns. The music was strange, playing slower, and slower, until it threatened to cease. The tones stretched out, the notes distorting, lasting longer and sounding deeper. Lila jabbed at her mother.
Her mother did not respond. The woman stared strai
FFM 9- Alarm Clocks and Death The alarm clock went off. Mike smashed his fist down on the snooze button. Three minutes later, it went off again. Snooze. Buzzing again. Snooze. Buzzing-
The offending alarm clock shattered into many smaller pieces upon colliding with the wall. Two minutes later, long enough for Mike’s eyelids to glue themselves back to his cheeks with the heavy duty adhesive of total exhaustion, the second alarm clock went off.
Mike groggily wobbled out of bed and slipped a hammer out from under the mattress. The hammer slammed into the alarm clock with gratuitous violence. He flopped back onto the bed.
His final alarm clock went off. It sounded like a police siren, punctuated by the screams of the wicked and the howls of hellhounds. He woke now with a smile on his face. It was always nice to hear such sweet music.
Mike hurled himself out of bed, knowing that velocity was the
FFM Day 8- Challenge The grass was wet beneath my feet. I had stopped walking. The moon cast a pale pink glow over everything. She was looming, huge and bloodied, up from behind a dark hill. She wanted to eat me, bite into my eyes like the sun did. The grass bit into my feet. I had been walking while my hair greyed and my skin shriveled; I was not sure why. I watched the stars move above me, new lights replacing those who faded away. I walked over ground that shrank and broke apart as I walked over it. As I walked, I moved across time. I forgot my name.
I wondered if I were a man who had found hell. It felt like hell. The only words that had any meaning for me now were the last words I had ever spoken. Back when I had people to speak to, before I had walked out of a grave and into a torment of endless walking.
“I know how the world will die,” I had said.
I did not know if I had been lying or not, but I had sounded confident. I had told ever
FFM Day 7- Dead Man's Insomnia Alexander Randall was having a horrible day. A large dark stain blossomed on his shirt, from his collar to below his naval. His morning coffee had evidently met an unfortunate end. His face had fared only slightly better when it had connected with the glass door.
Lex wanted to hit things. He called Samantha immediately upon arriving at work, having decided that today was the day he would propose. Samantha did not answer their landline. She did not answer her cell phone.
Worried, he called her mother. His mother-in-law told him it was time to “seal the deal”, then asked him over for casserole. She also mentioned a really wonderful way of removing “those extra five pounds you’ve got around your waist recently.” He replied by alluding somewhat to his homicidal urges and his currently subdued desire to exercise them on her.
He called Samantha’s few friends; she
FFM day 6- Second Chance When Tomlin woke, the room was dark. It was very warm, and something heavy was sitting on his chest. He woke with a prayer on his lips, as he often did, but the words quickly faded.
“Oh heavenly father,” sounded in his mind, and then it was gone. Something scratched against his pillow. Something pressed against his ear.
Tomlin pulled an arm up to relieve himself of the covers. Usually the moonlight would shine through into his room, falling across the stone floor and reflecting on the candlestick. Tonight, however, was pitch black. He would have to fumble for the candlestick, or else he would have to stumble out into the hall, where a torch was sure to be lit.
Something brushed across his chest. Sucking in breath, feeling very small, he waved his arm across his covers. Whatever pest or small beast had crept into his bedroom, it was likely made brave by his shallow breath and still form, enticed perhaps by the smell of
FFM Day 5- Aethalbad's Curse A man knelt by a freshly dug, empty grave. His long silver hair was braided behind his back. His battered armor was dull, and he wore a thick coat of black and white furs over a finely made leather jerkin. The trails of scars that wove around his body spoke more truth of his life than he ever would. His scabbard hung empty at his hip.
The darkening sky warned of a coming storm. He could taste iron on the wind. He did not care- he would be gone from this place long before it ever came. A small gathering of aging men stood behind him, each with an empty scabbard. Just beside him lay their collected swords, all well-made, the shining weaponry of kings.
The field was lush with long grass, though the gently sloping land was made gloomy by the threat of the storm. It looked very different from the way he remembered it, when unblooded boys and bloodied men writhed beneath the hooves of frothing horses. Fleeing warriors tripped over the limbs of their
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