Very Short Stories #6
Their disdain was #mutual. Anger filled the room, a sea of tension. They crossed the room, their purpose confrontation. And the blows began. Kicks, smacks, punches, and shoves crafted a soundtrack for the crowd around them. It was true. Oil and Water just didn't mix.
"Hey."
"Please, I just want a moment alone."
"Sorry, just being polite."
"I'm just tired of my privacy being violated."
"Um, okay."
"You know, when you're this famous."
"Um."
"Oh, you'll know me by my #pseudonym."
But even after she told me, I didn't know who she was.
It seemed a solid power. #Magnify what you focus on. He focused on his coins they would grow. When he focused on a plant, etc. But the technical aspects of it were tricky. His focus was arbitrary and fleeting. So when he focused on a passing pigeon...
The seas attack the land. The people tear each other apart. Plants stop growing. Everything starves. Fires spread all over. But, in a darkened forest, under brush, near the last growing thing, Pandora sits, holding her jar of hope, working to solve its #riddle in time.
They found the answers, found all the right signs that pointed toward her theories being true. But the fae found them, lay #sabotage after sabotage to confuse and confound. They had no other way to protect their world from the mundane finding its way inside.
She'd heard her whole life that every rose has a #thorn, so she accepted all of life's scratches. Bleeding, covered in scars she opened her arms one last time to grab and pluck at the roses. They found her cold body, gripping a red flower, her hand rigid in death.
Terry didn't love the museum. But one single #frame drew her back every time. Not the image. It was something bland and pale. The frame though, small circles and squares winding together to somewhere. Terry knew if she could just follow them, they'd take her there too.
Babies were birthed in solitude, too many minds could #inhibit innate control on mental abilities that were taboo to cultivate. But Ramon's mother had gone into spontaneous labor in the middle of the market. And now, as an adult, he was ready to show them the results.
The #keyhole was tiny, and Frank's eyesight was poor. But neither stopped him from seeing all that lived on the other side of the door. It captivated him. Which was the way that trapdoors had evolved in order to keep their prey in place long enough to eat them.
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