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Flight - FFM 18
The Great Drought crippled the world. Perhaps it was mother Earth of punishing us because it took almost two centuries to be able to get back up. The blow we took was heavy. It happened fast too. The oil and the fossil fuel in the ground vanished without a warning. We were left in the dark.
We had to adapt, improvise and survive. Society, as we'd known it for a millennium, collapsed, but we lived on and the planet lived with us, with no fumes and no pollution we flourished. 
Today, two centuries after our history, I sit behind the pilot seat in the newest solar plane model and gaze upon the remnants of the metal beasts that once ruled our skies. They have been disassembled for parts years ago, but their skeletons still stand as a memory of an age long gone. The engine starts in a silent hum as I hit the ignition button. The machine shudders but moves along the runway. There's a silent anticipation from everyone who's watching me gain speed. The end of the runway is
:iconmythiril:Mythiril 6 3
She wore layers. I don't just mean her clothes, though she was well layered up in those. She'd come out in a hat, a backpack, an undershirt, an over-shirt, jeans, socks, shoes, and to cover it all, a giant flannelette top that wrapped around her like a hug; and then under all of that she hid the layers of her true self. When she talked, it was a whisper. When she laughed, her mouth quirked upwards and opened in a quiet huff of air.
Six months in, she was starting to thaw. A layer dropped -- her backpack fell from her shoulders and crumpled at her feet. At the same time, she started to talk. It wasn't much of a change, just a slight increase in volume, and a tendency to verbalise a little more frequently; but I noticed it all the same.
Another three months and the hat came off. That day, I heard a real laugh peel out of her. It echoed in my head that night when I showered, and my thoughts started to change. I'd written her off before -- she was too small, too quiet, too innocent, too pr
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue 4 2
Adventurers: 2
The next day they arrived in a small city a few kilometers from the capital of the country. Curiously, that day there was a big party for the central square where merchants from all over the continent sold their products at a much cheaper price than usual. This benefited the city enormously and they gave a commission to the merchants at the end of the festivities.
Afel was quite uncomfortable surrounded by so many Hánimals. Even that was not the only thing there. Apparently the city also accepted Dragons living inside the walls, a feat for those times. The cat remained as close as possible to Vip, reaching for his coat in case there was any chance of separation by accident.
The bear stopped, crouching, trying to get as close as possible to their partner.
_ Do you see something that interests you?
_ There are too many people, most are taller than me and I don't see shit.
Without warning, the larger of the two grabbed him and put him on his right shoulder. Vip was one of the biggest
:iconwolfyx150:WolfyX150 1 0
Eighty-Seven Days Before the End
They look at the pocketknife every morning. Run their fingers over the handle, tracing the letters of the engraved name. Flip it open and gaze into the mirrored blade, wishing they could see through it to find their love on the other side – but all that looks back from the polished steel are their own haunted eyes.
Vivian gave them the knife before she left. It’s all they have left of her: they can’t write or call her, can’t even follow her on tumblr. Viv’s parents know all the passwords, and they’re not the sort to let even a hello go unquestioned.
They had to meet her in secret, before she moved away. She didn’t even dare to tell her parents her new name, or that she had one, or that she needed one.
It’s only for eighteen months. Seventeen. Sixteen. Eight. Five. They count down the days to Vivian’s eighteenth birthday, waiting for her freedom, helpless to help her.
Eighty-seven days before the end, the blade of the pocketkn
:icongdeyke:GDeyke 6 11
Planets: A Viable Option?
The bristles of the broom gently shuffled along the floor as the janitor fulfilled his duties. Normally, he kept to himself, earbuds fully engaged, but today was different. Today he’d been scheduled to clean out a room not often left unlocked: A science lab.
He’d been hired on the staff of the Stanford University over a year ago and, after just a few months, felt like he knew all the staff members on a personal level. Though the job didn’t pay much, it still covered the basics and had the added bonus of some occasional free lectures. It was more than enough to keep him happy.
He kept shuffling the broom along the floor, quietly observing all the little gadgets and gizmos that were often found in a specialty science lab. He immediately recognized that this one was reserved for planetary studies. He carefully sidestepped around the delicate model of the solar system, paused to read some posters declaring various statistics about each planet and noticed some tightly boun
:icondown-flower:Down-Flower 0 0
FFM 2018: The Road
All these months with only the company of ghosts, and he is beginning to forget what his own voice sounds like. He turns memories over in his mind like stones, wearing at the edges, but they grow more distant with every passing day. There’s so much he has forgotten.
Out here there is no past, no future. The war has taken everything from them, and whatever remains of the world will soon be relegated to the dust alongside everything that he once loved.
He wishes he would die, but life persists.
He walks, but there is nowhere left to go.
:iconthe-inkling:The-Inkling 1 1
FFM18 18 - Selkie
One last time, she watched the sun set into the ocean.  Like every night before it, she wondered where in those depths her love currently laid, and if he was well.  Once, she would’ve spent this time fantasizing about his form breaking from the foam and surf, shedding his tentacles to join the world of man again.  Those fantasies died long ago, and cold reality had taken their place.  He was never coming back.  But she was resourceful.  And determined.  
When the last golden ray dwindled on the horizon, she began to walk toward it, pulling her new sealskin on.
:icondistortified:distortified 0 1
Americans vs The G
    Do not utter the g word. Do not follow fit people on Instagram. Do not have an Instagram. Do not order those weight loss pills from the television commercial. Do not watch television. Do not go on a diet. Do not order that salad. You hate salad. Do not think of the g word. Do not get out of bed. Do not convince your friends to go with you to the g word. Do not answer the phone from the call asking about a 30-day free g word membership. Do not even look at your phone. The g word is uncomfortable. The people are judgmental. Even if they don’t say anything with words. You see it in their eyes. Their facial expressions. They smile when you struggle to understand how a machine works. That smile is close enough to a giggle. The g word membership costs too much anyway. Why even go to the g word? You can’t swim in the pool. You can’t run on the treadmill.
    Do go back to sleep. Close your eyes instead of working out. You
:iconerinsjay:ErinSJay 0 0
Times Have Changed
    This wasn't what you expected when you were invited to join. The rumors all spoke of darkness and candlelight. Instead, there are flickering fluorescent lights. Instead of blood, there are snacks in a bowl on the table. The plastic tablecloth rustles when you reach for a pack of cookies. The others around you look just as confused. The head cultist assures you you are in the right place.
    "We've just gotten with the times, is all."
    Instead of pledging your life you are given nondisclosure agreements to sign. There's even a health insurance form. Pretty good benefits, all things considered.
    The eldritch horror you've agreed to serve wears a suit and speaks through a messenger, an intern whose eyes are rolled so far back that you can only see white. This doesn't feel like the grisly fate you were promised on the cult's website. The thing comes up and shakes your hand. A shawl is wrapped around your shoulders and pinned in place with
:icontobaeus:Tobaeus 2 1
FFM 2018, July 17 - Expectations
We all become shipwrecked from time to time. One day you open your eyes and your bed is floating in the Pacific Ocean, even though you have a meeting at 6 AM with the board.
You wonder how to explain it to the chairperson. Was it because you're a woman? A woman who can't take the stress of being the boss? Was that why you ended up in your rapidly sinking bed in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, sheets taking in water, mattress rapidly losing buoyancy?
An albatross lands on your makeshift boat, and you sit up. The pillows are getting wet. Albatrosses mean land. You know not to kill the albatross, too, because you actually read books. Unlike the company founder, who despite his history of illegal, morally corrupt dealings nonetheless somehow managed to secure investment for yet another get-rich-quick scheme, which he then proceeded to run into the ground. Not that that has anything to do with books.
You decide not to look around. Maybe there's a cruiser coming to rescue you. Maybe you're
:iconwolfrug:Wolfrug 0 1
Pokemon Harley I Will Never Change You
Pokemon Harley
My Big, Big Passion
I will never change you.
Never change
Never change
My Big Passion!
:iconjnsucker12:jnsucker12 0 0
2018 FFM Day 16: Stupid Apricots
Zucchini is for summoning, avocados are for barriers.
Life is hard enough as it is without having to memorize the magical properties of vegetables. But in this instance where I, Tatiana Fruso, am being hunted by hell hounds for no particular evil other than the accidental abduction of the devil’s daughter, life is a hell of a lot harder when you forget the magical properties of vegetables.
So here I am, with enough apricots to raise half the dead in the world, but not a single avocado against a very present hoard of hounds.
It’s such a pity that rigor-mortis stays with the dead even when they’re back.
:iconirennia:Irennia 1 2
Stack Swindled (Flash Fiction) [FFM 15, 2018]
“The guard admitted to me himself that he doesn’t understand the value of the ancient tomes he’s being paid to protect, and it just seems too easy… Even I know why the nobles keep their precious knowledge under lock and key...” Ridell said, running a dirty rag over one of the daggers he’d pulled from the small pile in front of him.
“It can’t be that easy to pull one over on the Royal Library,” Plinth said, warming his hands (which were scarred and covered in cuts and bandages) by the fire. “But we’re gonna have to have some kinda cash and soon, or else we’s gonna have worse issues…”
Ridell nodded even though Plinth wasn’t facing him, and neither of the grubby men said anything for a long while. In their silence, schemes unfolded, and the pair knew that neither wanted to be the first to offer up a plan because the first idea was always the worst.
“Well,” Plinth ventured, ready to take t
:iconteela-y:Teela-Y 0 0
2018 FFM (#18) Robot Girl
    "Alex? You ready to go?" I heard Xia as I pried myself from my station, walking out of the room. I saw the young child all dressed and ready to "take part in a better world" as she would say. But of course, she had a few back buttons incorrect and a ribbon loose, which I had to fix.
    "Turn around, Xia," I told her as she did so before I unbuttoned and buttoned the buttons correctly before tying the ribbon properly.
    "You're 14 years of age now and created my original AI when you were only 12, yet you still can't button yourself correctly?" I asked "Are you gonna blame it on the fact that the buttons are on your back?"
    "Precisely," Xia huffed as soon as I finished.
    "The weather today is clear," I spoke as we started to head out of the building "Moderate Temperatures with highs around 28°C and lows around 22°C. There will also be moderate winds throughout the day."
    "Brilliant! That means we can co
:iconkrystal12phoenix:Krystal12Phoenix 0 0
[RoE] Down and Dirty
Ryan settled against the fence, watching as Kyas guided his horses with a practiced mastery, the rancher waved to him before leading Grum out to the pasture where he turned him loose, the horse eagerly galloping off, Ryan stood on his toes to watch him run, as Kyas headed on over, Mickey dancing around his heels, the dappled foal sticking close to her trainer today.
“Hey Ryan!” Kyas happily offered his hand for a shake, which Ryan took easily, “been awhile.”
“Yeah it has, sorry to just drop in on you, I was passing by and wondered if you’d like some of the berries I’ve been picking.” He offered a small carton of them Kyas, only for a speckled gray head to shove itself between them ears angled towards the carton of goodies.
“Mickey,” Kyas took the box and lifted it higher than the Mudbray, “no, you can’t have them.” Mickey angled her ears slightly, still focused on the peck of berries, Ryan grinned up at him,
:iconwolfpawsteps:WolfPawsteps 2 0
Rule #1: The first and most important rule is to stay quiet. A quiet person is a safe person.
Leanne nudged the chickens aside to collect their eggs. They fluttered their wings at the intrusion as she took the still-warm eggs into her hand. Once the basket was full, she rewarded the chickens with a few tosses of seeds. Leanne walked back up the steep path to the farm house. Three days prior, she had stumbled into town, tired and dehydrated, seeking refuge. Mr. and Mrs. Baker had been happy to take her in, as they needed a new caretaker. The couple were quite elderly, so almost all the work fell to Leanne. But she’d get Sundays off and that included today, so it was alright. All she’d have to do was feed the animals, do the milking, gather eggs, small things that couldn’t be ignored for even a day. Leanne finished tending to the animals. She knew most of the townspeople were at church, but it would let out shortly and then she could f
:iconsarcasticcupcake5:SarcasticCupcake5 1 0
I'm Watching You Breathing In
    “You’re being a fuckin’ freak, you know that, right?” the night dictated that Kohao’s voice remain quiet, just barely above a whisper, but his tone managed to be sharp and hostile nonetheless.
Chey turned tiredly towards him from where he leaned in Anarchy’s doorway, offered Kohao a smile that didn’t reach his exhausted eyes.
“Hey, K-O. No sleep for you either?”
“I’m just taking a piss.”
“Have fun. Don’t drown.”
Kohao shot Chey a perplexed, distrustful look as he passed. Chey turned back and counted the rises and falls of Anarchy’s chest. When Kohao came back out of the bathroom, he padded quietly over to Chey; assessed his sightline, raised his eyebrows.
“It a hobby of yours to watch people sleep?” he hissed. Chey didn’t make eye contact, just shook his head tiredly and straightened up.
“C’mon.” he motioned for Kohao to follow him down
:icontimekept:timekept 1 0
FFM 2018 -Day 18- Count Your Blessings
    The world isn't as perfect as we would like it to be.  Wars that tear countries apart.  Businessmen that care more for profit than for the livelihood of others.  People that are prejudiced by the color of their skin, the language that they speak, and even the people that they love.  While the world seems to crumble all around, some believe that hope has died.
    But that isn't true.
    There is always hope as long as there is love.  And there is a lot of love in this world.
    Even in the darkness that permeates society, there are still those who fight for love.  Those who fight for the right to love.  Those who work hard to make people's lives better.  Those who wish to protect the world and all that live in it.  Those who spread the idea of change throughout the world to inspire others to stand up.  Stand up against prejudice and injustice.
    Yes, the world isn't as perfe
:iconthe-livewriter:The-Livewriter 0 0
How To Create A Monster
First, you get inside the mind. You drill into his head that he is a monster –make him know only this truth.
Then you make other people recoil from him. You coax young kids to cry hysterically and point at him. You fabricate dread and contempt around his name, whisper horrors into the common ears.
You make him do monstrous things, but make him believe that it was all for the greater good. Finally, you punish him for his crimes, and force him to face the consequences of his sins.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is how you create a monster.
:iconbookcrusher:bookcrusher 1 0
FFM 2018: Like Magic
Arturo always picks the best songs.
He finds them in the boxes upon boxes of old records that my father left to me, retrieving them with exaggerated care from their yellowed protective sleeves. Arturo doesn’t believe in anyone or anything besides himself, but whenever I see him putting a record on I am reminded of a worshipper kneeling before his holy altar. The comparison always makes me smile.
I know I should clean things up. It has been months now, but I still I haven’t been able to bring myself to unpack all the boxes, and now they just sit in the corner of the apartment, gathering dust. My apartment has become a shrine to the dead, sacred objects stashed in corners, spilling over into the tiny living room, and across the floor of what used to be our bedroom.
Last summer the heat became so extreme that Arturo decided to reduce everything in the apartment to its simplest components. We removed half the furnishings, the curtains, our antique couch. He insisted that we tea
:iconthe-inkling:The-Inkling 1 3
2018 FFM Day 15: The Artist
“Hello. You may call me Syreen. How would you like me to address you?” Syreen tightened the straps over the young man’s beautiful body. His back faced her, a stunning blank canvas. They always reserved the back for her.
The man was defiantly silent, his muscles straining against the binds. Syreen was impressed that he’d lasted all the way until her studio. She continued, “You don’t have to worry, I’m not the one that does the interrogating. See, I am an artist. All that matters to me is my work. If you do not want to speak, you do not have to.” She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “But I’d recommend that you tell me a little about yourself. It might take your mind off the situation a bit, no?”
Syreen had spent the entire night designing this piece, and she was excited about it. All her knives were arranged in the order of use. Gingerly lifting the first one, she thought she was the luckiest woman alive. Few other women
:iconirennia:Irennia 0 0