《The Dumping Ground》 All the Time in the World Her body was carried by six strong men to a hole in the ground behind the church. My sister was so full of life. At least that¡¯s what you¡¯re supposed to say, but all I could think about is how she always had to use the same cup for her tea. It didn¡¯t matter if it was the only one that wasn¡¯t clean. She had to have the shiny black one with the gold spiral. Then she¡¯d sit quietly sipping her tea by the cuckoo clock in the living room as if she had all the time in the world. I thought of that cup throughout the whole service and how the coffin was the exact same colour, only without the gold. It¡¯s strange the things that cross our minds. After the service I talked with the other people there but all I could focus on were memories of her. Like that pale pink duvet she used to snuggle up in when we were little and how she used to press her nose to the glass on cold winter mornings and draw hearts in her breath on the window. She would tell me that one day she was going to fall in love and get married, and live happily ever after, just like the people in the stories. After the service I went for a walk among the trees in park. I remember thinking how it all seemed so strange that nothing had changed. The grass still swayed in the wind. The world still rotated. It¡¯s funny how one day can be just the same as the day before, and yet completely different. When we were teenagers we used to sneak out of the house to go to the park and play on the swings. We¡¯d kick our feet back and forth, higher and higher, until we felt we could almost touch the sky, if only we were brave enough to just let go. She dropped her scarf one night. She was flying so high I suppose it couldn¡¯t keep up. It danced the whole way down, beautiful, red, and alive. Perhaps that¡¯s what made her think of love. As she leapt off the swing and picked that fallen scarf from the ground she told me that one day when she fell in love and got married there would be red balloons at the wedding. Red balloons filled with helium that would float all the way up to the heavens. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. After my walk I stopped by the playground, the one near the edge of the park. I placed my hands on the cold railing and studied their lines. Even my hands still have lines, soft little lines formed by every movement we make since the day we are born. Her hands used to look like this too once. I watched the children playing. You know sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if I¡¯d made a different choice. My sister always knew what she wanted. It didn¡¯t matter what anyone else told her. I don¡¯t remember when her hands started to age, but I can¡¯t forget, the day she walked up with him, their hands entwined. Perhaps it was that day. The day she told me she¡¯d fallen in love and she was going to get married, and she was going to have children. She wasn¡¯t going to take the immortality pill. She said it wasn¡¯t worth the cost. Perhaps she was right. Her great grandchildren were there, on the swings, the day she died. I watched them kicking their feet, aiming for the sky, their hands holding on tightly. Young hands, not much different from mine except for the size. They never really tell you what you¡¯re giving up when you take the pill. I mean it¡¯s written there clear as day but they never really tell you. I guess I have all the time in the world to think about it now. Chasing Waterfalls ¡°I want to do the next one in person.¡± ¡°Now Odessa, you know how the board feels about jumping straight into live missions.¡± ¡°And you know how the people feel about real expeditions. They don¡¯t think it counts unless someone is actually there. Besides we¡¯ve scoped it out enough with the Suit.¡± Odessa walked around behind her desk, crossed her arms and starred out at the expansive jungle below. It stretched almost as far as the horizon, interrupted only by the sharp and distinctive peaks of the Jasper Mountain range. That was where she wanted to be. ¡°We haven¡¯t been in with the Suit though. Is this about what the people want or what you want?¡± Odessa turned back to face Silas, her partner and fellow expeditioner. ¡°It¡¯s what we all want. Just think, we could be the first to explore the canyons on Titan. Beat the Martians at something for once.¡± He frowned. His green eyes were flecked with gold that seemed to shimmer brightly when he was annoyed. It was probably a bug in his contact lenses but whatever it was Odessa hoped they never fixed it. It made Silas¡¯s eyes look like a strange star-filled sky. Silas sighed. ¡°I will talk to them but I make no promises.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± After Silas had left, Odessa checked the comments on her recent blog post: ¡®Next mission might be done with no Suit!¡¯ The Suit was a technology that allowed them to explore the canyon via a humanoid robot. While it made for some beautiful pictures and often an accurate view of what they would later experience in person, Odessa preferred to be surprised. The response to her post was mixed. Odessa hadn¡¯t been completely truthful with Silas. Oh there were groups of their audience who agreed with her, people who thought exploring by robot spoilt the human experience, but there were also many who thought not using the Suits was just foolish arrogance, and then there were those who thought humans should just stay out of the canyons altogether. She ignored them. They were people who had probably never even left Earth. Silas returned a few hours later looking disheartened. ¡°Did they turn us down?¡± Odessa asked. The board controlled the funding so there was no expedition without their approval. Silas shook his head. ¡°They said your post sparked a lot of enthusiasm for a traditional mission. They¡¯ve given us the go ahead.¡± The hike up along the upper edge of the canyon was rough, especially in the bulky outfits they needed to wear. The air on Titan was corrosive so anything traveling outside, either robot or human had to be wearing a Class A Cocoon, also known as a Suit when containing a robot, or simply referred to as a Cocoon when worn by a human. Even their ropes and equipment had to be coated in a special spray. Water and sustenance was supplied via a capillary system embedded within the Cocoon. They had previously used the Suits to investigate the approach but not the canyon itself. Even then, the Suits had only gone up to the peak and not down the canyon. The climb up was no easy feat. The crux was a section of monkey scrub followed by a short vertical wall. The monkey scrub was too thick to allow their feet to reach through to the ground. They simply had to scramble over the tops of the bushes which risked tearing the corrosive resistant material of the Cocoons. The plants on Titan could be as spiky as the ones on Earth. The vertical section was not difficult but any wrong step would risk them tumbling down hundreds of metres into the canyon below. Odessa took her time, trying to keep three points of contact on the wall at any moment. Once or twice the wall crumbled off in her gloved hand leaving her grabbing at thin air. She made a mental note to look into that clawed glove technology that the Martian team used. She envied those born in the Mars colonies. They were born into a culture that really appreciated adventure. She was intent on showing them that the people of Earth could be just as brave. She heard the falling rock before Silas¡¯s warning. Luckily she was beneath a tree trunk at that point and ducked in close as a rock twice the size of her head went barrelling past. She laughed at the escape and continued onward. They reached the top of the canyon just after midday. The first few drops were short and easy and they had plenty of rope. One waterfall spiraled into another and less gravity meant a gentler flow than they would have had on Earth. If you sat and watched it for awhile if felt like time had slowed down. Odessa bounced down the falls, her feet sending small spheres of water high into the air. She looked up at Silas¡¯s reflective visor with a grin and wondered if he was enjoying it as much as she was. The canyon flattened out for a few hundred metres after the first section and they leapt from rock to rock making impossible jumps. With less gravity landings were also more forgiving but not completely without risk. The canyon took a left turn and let in the sun. Water sparkled and Odessa could see several hundred metres onward where the canyon fell away into empty air. She could also see the entire jungle, miles below stretching out into the distance. That was probably the 200 metre drop, the largest waterfall they would do today. Odessa shivered with excitement. Before they reached it however, there was another double waterfall to do, 10 metres down, 3 metres across and then 40 more down. As Odessa touched down at the base of the next waterfall she looked around. They were truly trapped now. Before this drop, the walls of the canyon had been steep but they could have managed the scramble out. Now they were surrounded on both sides by almost vertical walls lined with the common red vines of Titan and the occasional overhanging tree, too steep and fragile to climb. She waited until Silas was down and then she splashed him with water. ¡°Hey!¡± he exclaimed, but she could hear the laughter in his voice. The nice thing about the Cocoons was that at least they kept them warm and dry. The pair stood as close as they dared to get to the top of the big waterfall, looking out at the Jungle below but not able to see to the base of the waterfall. It disappeared down into the unknown. ¡°Do you want to do this one or shall I?¡± Silas asked her. ¡°You can.¡± Odessa replied taking a seat on a nearby rock. Silas had always been braver than she was. Looking at where the water disappeared over the edge both enticed and intimidated her. Silas put in a bolt several metres back from the edge. None of the trees were quite close enough or solid enough for a natural anchor and the drill was faster anyway. He would use this anchor to get out over the top of the waterfall where he would put in another anchor. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Their two 80 metre ropes meant they would need to put anchors in on the face as well. Odessa hoped the rock would be solid. She watched Silas abseil out the edge where the water disappeared. He peered down and then pointed across to the other side. She heard him speaking to her through the radio in her helmet. ¡°I think that side will be better, it¡¯s clearer of the water.¡± Odessa nodded and gave him the thumbs up. Still on the rope, Silas waded across. He moved slowly so as not to slip and go flying off the edge. The rope would likely have stopped him from falling, as long as he held on, but he¡¯d also be directly in the flow which would make it harder to climb back up. Silas made it to the other side without any problems and started drilling into the wall. Odessa gazed out at the view. A part of her wished the Cocoons were more fitting, bringing her closer to the environment while still providing protection from the corrosive atmosphere. The Martians had recently been using a new suit like that. Apparently, even though it was thinner, it provided better protection as well as more maneuverability. It also had the awesome feature of passing sensory input directly to the user. Odessa thought about how glorious it would be to feel the wind again, without having your skin burn off and without having to make the long journey back to Earth. There was a room at the place where they were staying which blew hot air at you from grates in the wall. It was supposed to vary to match the feel of natural wind but it never quite felt the same to Odessa. Silas, on the other hand, had greatly enjoyed it and spent any moment he could in there just meditating on the sand covered floor. Silas indicated to her that he was ready for her to come out. Then he began his own descent. Odessa moved slowly, double checking she was on the right side of the rope. The waterfall began with a slight incline and Odessa was careful to make sure each foot was solid before she shifted her weight. Apprehension filled her stomach until she reached the edge and was able to see all the way down. She clipped herself into the anchor and only then did she relax. She studied the drop and saw Silas, a good 80 metres down putting in the next anchor. The water cascaded noisily down beside him. It would have been impossible to hold a conversation here without the radios. Her apprehension was replaced with complete awe. Not knowing what was coming frightened her but when fear was replaced with wonder the contrast made her feel like she was soaring. She tied the second rope to the end of the first. That would be the pull side. She waited until Silas had put in the first bolt and was off the rope. She double checked that the rope would pull then she put the descent side of the rope through her figure eight, once again cursing the thick gloves of the Cocoon. Then she abseiled down to Silas. Silas had put in a double anchor this time so she clipped into the same one as him, leaving the other for the rope. He slid as much of the pull end of the rope as he could through the other anchor and then tied it off so they wouldn¡¯t lose the rope once he pulled it down from above. Once the new abseil was set they repeated the process all over again. This time Silas took much longer to find a good spot for the anchor. ¡°The rock is crumbly¡± he told her over the radio. ¡°The other side looks good though. I¡¯m going to try and swing across.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± she replied as she studied the flow of the water. She held her hand out and touched it. It never felt quite as powerful as she expected and there was something mystical about the way it moved in slow motion. Less power meant Silas could probably get across it fine. The drill would come in handy here too. Despite its name, what it really did was pulverize the rock and place the bolt in one go. It would also perform an automatic check of the stability of the rock and refuse to place a bolt if the rock was no good. One could override this setting and have it put in a bolt manually but it had proved life-saving in the past so they found it was generally best to use the automatic mode unless there was no other option. The device hadn¡¯t always been so useful. It used to take so long to check that people would often switch to manual mode in frustration, but these days it was fast enough that Silas could swing across the waterfall, place an anchor while moving and then clip into it on the second swing. For Odessa it was even easier. Silas simply tied the end of the descent rope to the anchor so it worked as a guide line when she abseiled. As she lowered herself down the final pitch Odessa could see the problems with the rock. It was coated in a wet red moss and very crumbly. Every time her foot landed on the wall a large chunk would go crashing down into the water far below. She was glad the upper part of the falls hadn¡¯t been like this. By the time she reached the bottom of the waterfall Silas was already at the top of the next pitch, about a hundred metres on. ¡°Last one I think¡± he told here once she caught up. He sounded relieved. He had trouble finding a good spot near the top of the waterfall so he placed the anchor a bit further back than usual. Odessa went down first. It was another double waterfall but this time it was a bit different than the others. The middle section where it flattened out was a small pool that flowed beneath an archway into a cave and then back out again. The waterfall flowed sideways into the cave but they could see a straight line all the way out so Silas didn¡¯t bother with a second anchor at the exit of the cave even though the entire pitch was about 60 metres. This was something that proved to be a mistake. When it came time to pull the rope they found they could not pull it quite at the right angle. The rope was stuck. Even both of them pulling on it with all their combined weight would not free it. ¡°Did you check that it pulled at the top?¡± Odessa asked. Silas nodded. ¡°Perhaps we should just leave it.¡± she suggested. That had been the last waterfall after all. Silas shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll climb back up and see if I can loosen it, or put in another bolt.¡± Odessa nodded. They had plenty of daylight still, even though days on Titan were slightly on the short side. Silas pulled out his ascender and began his climb. He was almost at the archway when the rope suddenly came loose on its own. Odessa watched in horror as Silas fell with a loud crash into the shallow pool below. She stumbled over the rocks in her rush to reach him. He was pulling himself out of the water as she reached the shore. She froze. He wasn¡¯t moving quite right. His limbs jerked weirdly as if they were sticking and then suddenly coming loose. ¡°Silas your Cocoon!¡± she cried as she noticed the tear. He stopped and looked down at it. ¡°Oh.¡± They had Cocoon repair kits but the nonchalant tone of his voice gave her pause. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± He removed his helmet. Odessa stared. He hadn¡¯t been wearing a Cocoon after all. He was wearing a Suit. A robot stood in front of her. The real Silas was elsewhere, perfectly safe. Anger replaced her concern. She turned and walked away. She had gone almost a hundred metres when she realised they would probably want the Suit back. She turned around went back to help Suit Silas fix his Suit in silence. There was obvious damage to the robot¡¯s joints but it seemed able to walk and at least now that they had patched the Suit the corrosion would be minimal. It didn¡¯t make her feel any better. She was so angry that she didn¡¯t speak to him for the whole journey back. By the time she got back a lot of her anger had dissipated and when she saw the real Silas standing there uninjured she ran up to him and threw her arms around him. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were using the Suit?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You wanted to do a traditional expedition and you always think I¡¯m so brave. I...¡± ¡°I lied.¡± she admitted. ¡°It wasn¡¯t for our audience, I just wanted to be there, for real.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to force you to.¡± ¡°I know, but I¡¯m getting old, I don¡¯t enjoy it like I used to.¡± She laughed at that. ¡°You¡¯re only a year older than me and barely a hundred and two, you¡¯ve half your life left.¡± He nodded. ¡°I still like doing it, just less of the pure exploratory stuff. After that incident on Mars, I¡¯ve just become a bit more cautious.¡± She nodded and thought about how she¡¯d felt when she¡¯d seem him fall. ¡°You know I think I worry more about you than me when we¡¯re in the canyon.¡± He laughed and nodded. ¡°I feel the same about you sometimes but I also don¡¯t want to make you use the Suits if you don¡¯t want to.¡± ¡°Well how about a compromise? You use the suits and I¡¯ll go traditional but you lead the hard moves. That way I get to be there but your Suit takes the risk. And maybe I¡¯ll get one of those skinny Martian ones.¡± He smiled contently and reached out to gently tuck a strand of her blue hair behind her ears. ¡°That sounds like a plan.¡± She wrapped her arms tight around him. ¡°I love the risk but it¡¯s good to have choices too.¡± Sylvie Wonders What Its Like To Be A Table You ever wondered what it¡¯s like to be a table? I spent four hours as a chair once so I expect it¡¯s pretty similar. Perhaps it¡¯s my fascination with being objects that makes me want to collect them. Well not collect them per say, mostly just borrow them. Although I guess borrowing usually implies returning so maybe taking them is the better way to put it. I¡¯d never really considered becoming a car until I met Cat. It¡¯s not my usual kind of object. I¡¯ve been lots of different people, and furniture, and things but never a car. I was always slightly afraid of them to be honest, where as Cat¡¯s so obsessed with them, but what else do you expect from a mechanic? I guess I always thought of it as more of a job than a passion, but Cat doesn¡¯t see it like that. Objects are sort of my passion, objects and Cat. I should probably clarify at this point that Cat is a witch, as am I, well most of the time. It¡¯s a funny thing actually, I usually go after boys, don¡¯t ask me why. I think I¡¯ve been a boy more often than I¡¯ve been with a girl too. But Cat was different, a rare thing. I still find myself thinking about her, lusting after her, even though she¡¯s evidently moved on, or back in this case. I guess I should take it as a compliment that I¡¯m the only girl she¡¯s been with. Some consolation prize though. It¡¯s her fault I¡¯m here, well okay, not really, but I needed a distraction, and that is her fault. I just wasn¡¯t expecting them to have search dogs. I didn¡¯t have much time to think about it and so here I am, currently disguised as a pot plant. I figure a plant blends in pretty well in a museum. Perhaps I should have shifted into a painting, but I didn¡¯t really consider that until now. At least this way if the dogs sniff me out the handlers will just assume it¡¯s because of some funny smelling dirt or something. I bet you¡¯re wondering what it¡¯s like to be a pot plant now. It¡¯s quite nice actually. So, the thing about Shapeshifters is we often take on the personality or attributes of the thing we shift into. I¡¯ve never particularly liked plants that much. Plants were always more my sister¡¯s thing, but then she¡¯s not a Shapeshifter. They¡¯re just too, well too varying. Shifting into a chair or a stool can be very relaxing. A plant though, is just weird. They move too fast. I know, you¡¯re thinking that makes no sense. I mean plants don¡¯t move, not really, they grow but that¡¯s slowly right? Well compare the rate at which a plant grows to that of a person. See what I mean? They¡¯re too fast. So generally I just don¡¯t like being a plant, it¡¯s just too weird. A pot plant or a house plant is different though, once they¡¯re mature that is, and Bonsais? Oh Bonsais are my favourite. Much more refined and constrained. They don¡¯t grow quite so much. But you can still feel the air surrounding your leaves. Large trees aren¡¯t so bad either, depending on the type, as far as plants go at least. But I¡¯d much rather be a bird. It¡¯s not as easy and carefree as people think. Flying is actually quite hard, even terrifying at first, but oh once you learn it, it¡¯s like dancing on air, well, I mean, it is dancing on air. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. So I like birds, and chairs. Birds are exciting, exhilarating but very tiring. Chairs are just relaxing. I could be a chair for hours. I¡¯ve never been a table though. I really should try it sometime. It¡¯s too bad I didn¡¯t think of that before, but I was in a hurry, and I¡¯m not sure a table blends in quite as well as a pot plant. Maybe I¡¯ll try it sometime when I¡¯m not in the middle of a heist. Museums aren¡¯t even usually my thing, not for stealing from anyway. It¡¯s just one of those days I guess. I usually go for the really small stuff, can¡¯t help myself. That or the larger cons, that¡¯s more of a job thing than a passion thing though. Small things are more my specialty, but I don¡¯t do heists, not usually, they¡¯re just too risky. Case in point. It¡¯s been quiet for a while now though. Maybe they¡¯re gone. Maybe I have time to shift into a mouse. I¡¯m always worried about cats though, hah, as if I needed reminding. Seems they are the bane of my existence, well one type of cat. I did actually get caught by a cat once, when I was a mouse. I was just trying it out and my mum¡¯s cat Jessie got me between her teeth. The other thing about being a Shapeshifter is that once you are in a form it can be very easy to forget what your original form is, especially if you happen to be trapped in the jaws of a giant feline. I¡¯m lucky most cats don¡¯t kill their food right away, especially house cats. My sister managed to grab the cat and once she was caught she just let me go. It did take me a good twenty minutes before I remembered how to turn back though. I slip out of the museum painting and self intact. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s worth very much. Truthfully I never paid much attention to the kind of art that stays still. I rolled my eyes at every painting my parents hung on the wall but when they took me to the ballet I was captivated. But I know who will know. For a mechanic, Cat has an uncanny knowledge of art and it¡¯s value. Then again for some, a vehicle is a form of art. I¡¯m hesitant about taking it to her though. She has no problem with theft. Heck, half the cars she does over probably weren¡¯t paid for by their owners. But with me, when I steal, I get that look of pity. I hate that look. I think it¡¯s because she knows for me it¡¯s less of a choice. It¡¯s a compulsion. And she knows, as well as I do, that I could just stick to dancing and make an honest living that way, if not for this little habit I have. I think she worries about me. I leave the painting in my storage container. I seek Cat out anyway. I want to see her. When I get there she¡¯s on one of those rolly things under a car. I am tempted to grab an ankle and pull her out. I know if I do she¡¯ll give me that look like a snake about to strike. It¡¯s kind of a sexy look actually. She slides out before I can reach her, as if she reads my mind. The look is there. I can¡¯t help but smile. That always seemed to unnerve her a little too. She gets a wary look in her eyes for a moment but without the anger, and then she relaxes. Well as much as is possible for Cat to relax. ¡°Do you want to go for coffee?¡± I ask. ¡°I don¡¯t drink coffee.¡± she replies but with a come-hither smirk back at me she¡¯s up and off down the drive. I follow as the dance continues. The Deterioration of Ice Cream I always tiptoe carefully over the patches of clover that KC doesn¡¯t even look at. I breathe in the smell of fresh pine from the construction site down the road while KC curses about the heavy fumes put out by the local traffic. I skip. KC drags foot. KC knows how to be cool. Where ever KC goes, I go too. ¡°It ain¡¯t good for the environment.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I agree. ¡°Not good.¡± ¡°Or humans. That¡¯s why there¡¯re so many people with cancer these days.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I take in another breath of the air and wonder if pine also gave people cancer. ¡°This whole place is a shithole. I can¡¯t wait to leave.¡± ¡°Can we get ice cream?¡± ¡°Why do you always want ice cream?¡± ¡°Because it tastes nice¡± ¡°Maybe later.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to get Tamarillo, it¡¯s the best¡± ¡°You always get Tamarillo.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s the best.¡± KC sighs. ¡°I¡¯m bored, there¡¯s nothing to do in this place.¡± KC stops, thinks for a moment and then looks at me as if daring me to ask if we can get ice cream again. It¡¯s one of KC¡¯s tests. I know the best way to pass is to not reply at all, so I just shrug. KC seems satisfied. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the river.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± We¡¯re half way through the forest when something catches KC¡¯s eye. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°What¡¯s what?¡± ¡°That.¡± KC reaches down and picks up a dark object from beneath the dried leaves. It¡¯s a handgun. ¡°Cool.¡± KC points it at me. I freeze. KC grins. ¡°Wanna play Russian Roulette?¡± ¡°No.¡± KC shrugs as if not caring either way, points the gun at a nearby tree, and pulls the trigger. The gun clicks. Nothing else happens. ¡°Huh?¡± KC turns the gun and peers down the barrel. ¡°Where did it come from?¡± I ask. KC shrugs. ¡°I dunno. Probably someone threw it away.¡± ¡°Why would someone throw it away?¡± ¡°Maybe they committed a crime and it¡¯s evidence.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we take it to the police?¡± ¡°What would they do with it?¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°I dunno.¡± KC sits down on a nearby log and studies me. I don¡¯t like the way KC is looking me. That look always means KC is thinking of some new game. I don¡¯t always like the games. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be a real looker when you¡¯re older, you know that?¡± KC says. I shake my head. I don¡¯t understand what that means. ¡°Come over here.¡± KC motions to the empty space on the log. I sit down next to KC. ¡°Hold out your hands.¡± I do what I¡¯m told. KC wraps my fingers around the handgun. ¡°You know how to use one of these?¡± I shake my head. ¡°You peer down the barrel and you line the sights up like this.¡± KC shows me how to do it. ¡°Then you pull the trigger, and bang.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s broken.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Now you know what it feels like. Everything¡¯s different once you¡¯ve held a gun.¡± I nod vigorously even though I¡¯m not sure what is supposed to be different. KC takes the gun back, sighs, and stands up. ¡°Let¡¯s go and get ice cream.¡° KC waves the gun in the air. ¡°Maybe we can get it for free.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that stealing? Besides, I don¡¯t want to scare them. Mr Millar¡¯s always nice to us, and they know where we live.¡± My words fall over one another in their rush to get out. ¡°Relax, I was just playing.¡± KC pockets the gun and starts walking. I get Tamarillo, like I always do. It¡¯s the most beautiful red colour and it¡¯s unique to our town, nowhere else makes it. KC gets vanilla and pays for both of us. I smile as we walk down the street. I can hear the seagulls squawking an afternoon chorus overhead even though we¡¯re not even close to the sea. KC calls them the rats of the sky. We¡¯re a third of the way across the road and almost home. There¡¯s an unfilled pothole and I¡¯m too focused on making sure my ice cream doesn¡¯t drip. I catch my foot on the edge and stumble. A car horn blares. The tarmac turns red. KC helps me to my feet as someone shouts at us. There¡¯s another car horn, a little more distant, as I stare in dismay at my dropped ice cream. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Here have mine.¡± KC hands me a vanilla ice cream. The driver presses his horn again. KC gives them the fingers. Traffic¡¯s piling up, all two cars of it. It¡¯s gotta be the most cars main street has ever seen at once. I start on with getting across the rest of the road. The driver revs his engine. I panic and nearly lose this ice cream too and next thing you know KC is at the driver¡¯s door, wrenching it open. There¡¯s a short altercation but the driver apologises and then we flee before the town cop shows up. He knows us and would be disappointed to find KC in ¡°yet another altercation.¡± It¡¯s his favorite catchphrase. Everyone knows everyone around here but he won¡¯t bother chasing us up if he doesn¡¯t see us now. I find a marble in the grass on the way home. ¡°Look!¡± I show it to KC. ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± But the enthusiasm isn¡¯t there. I stare at it while we walk. It¡¯s a green-aqua sort of colour. A catseye. Not rare but I stare at it fascinated anyway. How do they get the swirls in there? The shape reminds me of ice cream. ¡°Come on. You¡¯ll fall over again if you keep looking at that thing.¡± I put it in my pocket. It has a special kind of weight there, like I have a secret no one knows about. Even though KC sees me do it. When I catch up KC sticks a dandelion behind my ear and flashes me a quick smile. Our toes aim kicks at tiny rough rocks sending them twisting through the air, then skittering over loose pavement, and finally down into the drain. Onward we stroll. Mum is back early and she¡¯s yelling at lazy cousin Jay again. Jay¡¯s been sleeping on our couch for almost a month now. Apparently these are hard times or so cousin Jay says. KC and I wait outside until mum has cooled off so she doesn¡¯t turn her anger on us too. We¡¯re late home and she can always smell the ice cream on us somehow. It spoils our appetites for dinner she says. When we hear her head out back to get the laundry down we sneak in to join Cousin Jay on the couch. Cousin Jay takes up a lot of space. That¡¯s one downside to us all being such good hosts but at least we get to watch the good shows. Cousin Jay knows the best ones. ¡°Shh, don¡¯t tell yer mam.¡± Jay turns the volume down so as not to arouse too much suspicion. She¡¯s back in sooner than expected but she stays busy in the kitchen for awhile and we get to keep watching the movie. Cousin Jay offers us a bit of brownie half way through but just as we¡¯re about to take it Dad gets home. We retreat to our rooms. There¡¯s some more yelling, most of it directed at Cousin Jay, and then mum calls dinner. The ending remains unknown to us. ¡°Maybe we could go fishing tomorrow,¡± KC suggests at bedtime. ¡°With what?¡± ¡°We could try shooting the fish, see if that works.¡± ¡°But the gun¡¯s broken remember?¡± ¡°Oh yeah.¡± A sigh and then, ¡°Well, maybe it just needs bullets.¡± ¡°Where are we going to get bullets from?¡± ¡°I dunno. But anyway, we should go fishing tomorrow. And maybe for a swim too. Gotta make the most of summer while we still can.¡± I nod. ¡°Do you think we can get ice cream again tomorrow?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± KC teases, then ¡°Yeah, why not?¡± Crane The world was wet. Patricia was not. She was vibrant. She was wonderful. She was without a care. She wanted to careen down the street, skipping and leaping, flapping and dancing, but she didn¡¯t. She held herself back. She didn¡¯t want to draw attention. She knew she was weird enough already. She hopped carefully over puddles imagining worlds within them, tunnels and twisted streets that ran as far and as deep as the sky. She wanted to dive right in, but she didn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t. Who would tell her mother where she had gone? High above her and reflected in the cool waters she could see several cranes reaching high. The city was expanding. It was always expanding. Patricia found the never-ending construction fascinating. None of those silly geese she usually hung with understood why and Patricia could never explain it. She barely understood her own mind sometimes. It dipped and dived like a bird in flight. She rounded a corner and almost ran into the end of the bus line. Where were they going? A man in a forest green coat glanced up at her with disinterest then returned to reading papers bound together in a manila folder. How strange. She imagined he was a spy studying secret documents. In front of him stood an old lady, hunched in a grey coat, holding a cane, and who didn¡¯t glance up at all. A witch? Who next? A boy in a red baseball cap became an alien in disguise. A blond woman with curly hair, now a time traveler from a small town in Finland. The bus pulled up driven by driven by a professional pianist. In her mind¡¯s eye Patricia was sure she had seen him practicing on the 7th floor of the apartment around the corner. He wasn¡¯t her usual bus driver though. He didn¡¯t know she got free rides. Rather than risk him rejecting her for her lack of funds she opted for a different method of travel instead. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. She had long legs for her age and she walked with an odd gait. Her mother had always said she was a strange bird. A strange bird indeed, but she moved fast. Moving fast meant she didn¡¯t have to think about those who mocked her for her height. Somewhere above her the cranes towered and a part of her felt an affinity to them. They lived in the clouds too, just as she did most of the time. She came to the base of one. A bright yellow one. Not as tall as the others. She felt a little sorry for it being down low. But in other ways it was perfect, just tall enough to clear the nearby rooftops and give a view across the city. She hopped the fence effortlessly and keeping her head low she made for the ladder. She climbed up the crane, rung by rung. The view was indeed beautiful. It deserved a slow reveal. She finally made it to the top as the edge of the sun kissed the horizon. She took a deep breath, admiring everything that was laid out before her. She wobbled to the furthermost corner from where she had arrived, never loosing sight of the horizon until she reached the edge. Once there she closed her eyes and smiled. She took two steps forward, opened her eyes, and leapt out into nothing. But Patricia was not nothing. White feathers surrounded her long neck, her back, and her head. They covered all of her but for her feet. They shivered in the breeze as feathers are inclined to do taking all of the cold from her skin so that all she felt was the warmth of the sun on her wings as she took the scenic route home. The End Although many predicted the end of the world, only a few thought it would come like this. The steel walls that surround us are adorned with colour. Images us to remind us of what once was. I touch a flat tree and try to imagine the feel of rough bark, as I did many years ago. But all I sense in my fingertips is a dull smooth chill. Earth is dying and we are the last. A plague swept the world in 2020. While there were other events that came later far more befitting of the term apocalypse, that one was my first experience of the perils of pestilence. I was young at the time and we were on holiday. We had spent the week looking at so many palaces and museums, temples and statues, exhausted our senses to the point where everything, no matter how grand was starting to look alike. I don¡¯t think anyone is supposed to take in that much art at once, least of all someone the age of my sister and I. It was by chance we came upon a path that wove it¡¯s way through a small forested area. The name of the artist whose work we stumbled upon I have long since forgotten. The art however, I do remember, because there under a dazzling sun, it was melting. In the densest part of this tiny urban wilderness stood, sat, and flew at least a dozen ice sculptures. From a delicate rope a fairy dangled, toes dripping shimmering droplets onto the head of a soon-to-be hornless unicorn. Nearby a man and a woman were locked in a passionate embrace, slowly melding into one. Beneath a tree, a racoon was loosing it¡¯s strange frosted stripes. ¡°They¡¯re melting!¡± I gasped, horrified that something so magical, so magnificent, something that must have taken hours to build, could wash away right before our very eyes. ¡°That¡¯s what makes it so beautiful,¡± my mother had said as all of us stood transfixed. I don¡¯t think my mother considered the changes that occurred to the world in the days that followed quite so beautiful. There was a lot of cursing, a lot of phone calls. And even after we got home safe one night I saw her crying when she thought we were asleep. But beautiful or not, nothing lasts and those days too, eventually fell behind us. Thirty years went by, another world war. One that thankfully barely touched our small paradise at the end of the Earth. It was the one that came after that really did the damage. And somewhere in the midst of it all I became a mother. It is on a beach that my memories find the most purchase. My children and I were making sandcastles when my husband ran down the hill with breaking news of his summons back to sea. My world might have crumbled then if not for a moment of oblivious child induced normalcy. Behind me my daughter squealed as my son drove his red-robed cavalry right into the middle of her sandcastle. ¡°It¡¯s alright, some things aren¡¯t meant to last. We can build a bigger one tomorrow.¡± I comforted the both of us as the sea licked at our heels. My husband returned from that war as surely as the sea took our castle away the next day. Many others were less fortunate. Entire countries were wiped from the map and in their place new ones slowly sprang like daisies growing atop of a grave. We grieved and we grew. Not always for the better. Rising sea levels, and increasingly unpredictable weather caused famine to coat the land only a few years later. A worldwide shortage of chocolate resulted in a fiery riot that rendered our town theatre into a pile of ash. Before it was even cold some neighbourhood kids used the charcoal from the smouldering remains to draw four fantastic free-running horses on the side of the Four square. It was a stunning piece of work, with every slither of mane and every glistening muscle painstakingly rendered. Drawn beneath what must have been nothing but the light from the moon. The supermarket owner hosed it down the very next afternoon. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Prices of everything went up, air conditioning units sold out, companies collapsed, civilisations fell. Those that could, rode it out and from the dust that eventually settled, society slowly strengthened once more. Although it took on a very different shape from what it had going in, some portions of society lived on. Ships soon sailed the ocean again and not for the last time we turned our eyes back toward space. Segments of technology lived on, some prospered more than they ever had before. Much of it was born out of our very need to survive, some our insatiable curiosity. The development of one dodged disaster resulted in a friendly AI which led to the cure of many diseases. Funding took a little longer and while we got there eventually it was a few months too late for my husband. I was sitting next to his bed reading to him the story of a sailor who set out to find the end of the earth, only to discover there wasn¡¯t one. As I turned the last page he grabbed my hand and carefully slipped a necklace into it. To this day I don¡¯t know where or how he came by it. ¡°To remember me by,¡± he said. A small tarnished copper seahorse lay in my hand. Well-worn and all the more beautiful because of it. When I looked up again my husband was gone. I thought his death was the last apocalypse I would ever live to see. I was wrong. Not only did I find love again with a green-eyen once-dark-haired vixen named ¡®Jade,¡¯ but in 2090 humankind finally discovered how to prevent aging. It took until 2150 before we managed to turn back the clock on age itself and I got to see Jade¡¯s natural hair colour. Preventative medicine became our new providence and disease no longer troubled the Earth like it once did. Wild winds still waged war but we had built bigger walls. And a new theatre. Jade and I spent many an evening painting up our own storm in a basement we¡¯d built for our art. We created so many coloured canvasses we ran out of space. Some of it we sold. Some we painted over. Some we kept. Some got lost one summer when the basement flooded and I don¡¯t even remember what they worlds they depicted. A few were sewn into the patched up sails of our little keel boat. Those ones I never forgot. No matter how many millions of years pass by. Somewhere in my mind the wind still tickles those scene-filled sheets. The Earth is but a star in the black sky behind us now, a speck of dust. And the sun still visible burns brighter than ever. An ever increasing heat will boil the oceans before engulfing the planet in it¡¯s entirety. We cannot stay any longer. I touch the metal tree once more before stepping into my own sleep pod. No, that tree is nothing like the real ones and it will probably be long faded by the time we awake again. But it reminds me of what I have to look forward to on the soils of our new planet. This semblance of tree exists to be seen for such a short time and yet someone still thought to put it there. That thought is enough for me. We live in so many moments, undefined by any single one, made whole by the pattern they make leaping through time and space. A wandering weave of chance and choice and loose threads reaching out into nothingness only sometimes finding purchase, often getting lost and torn but ever seeking nonetheless. Unique, colourful, and never still. We move forward now through the vast expanse of space on a ship sailing for a new world. Earth may be gone, but we continue. Yes, many predicted the end of the world, but only a few thought it would ride right on by. The Perfect Match It was perfect. Exactly the kind of dress women everywhere dreamed of wearing on a first date. A simple A-line that stopped just above the top of her knees. Her mother had always told her if one wanted to trap a man then she should never reveal too much until later. It was brilliant red, like her lips, and her nails, and the perfect little rose she twirled between her fingers as she waited. She¡¯d picked it from Artemis¡¯s plot. It had been the best in the bunch, just like Artemis, her little golden-haired gift. Her little lamb. She smiled as she remembered the time Artemis had come home from school with a pack of seeds and declared her intention to turn their entire yard into a jungle of flowers. She raised the flower to her lips and gave it a sniff just as the doorbell rang. He was dressed to the nines in a sharp suit she knew he couldn¡¯t afford. This she had discovered in her pre-date snooping. But it didn¡¯t matter because in all the ways that did matter he was perfect. He had golden eyes like the wolf that he resembled. She smiled wide, her own teeth bared straight and sparkling white. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Ah I could just eat you up,¡± he declared with a grin just as wide. ¡°I¡¯m sure you could,¡± she replied smoothly, sensually, and with just the right amount of eye contact she knew would make him lust for more. ¡°Where shall we go?¡± he asked. ¡°I hear the carnival¡¯s in town, we could ride the Ferris wheel, eat candyfloss, maybe even get our palms read?¡± She gave another demure duck of the eyes, a twist of the lips. ¡°Oh I have somewhere else in mind.¡± She directed while he drove. He didn¡¯t ask questions, evidently enjoying the surprise. The road twisted up and away from town. ¡°I hear the view is beautiful from up here at night,¡± she explained as they got out of the car. ¡°But it¡¯s best if you see it all at once.¡± She reached into her handbag. Her hand sliding past a white envelope before pulling out a blindfold. He let her put it on him and lead him through the trees toward the cliff edge. Once he was close enough she pulled it off and stepped back. She took a deep breath and when he least expected it she stepped behind him and gave him a hard shove forward. ¡°Now who is the hunted?¡± she asked to the empty air. No one answered. She laid the rose at the cliff edge. It almost seemed to glow in the moonlight but its red was deeper than before now, much like the colour of the blood that she was certain must be seeping from his body on the rocks below. It suited the moment. After all, she thought as her fingers tightened around the envelope containing the DNA report of her daughter¡¯s killer, he had been the perfect match. Missed Connections A Slice of Life, that had been the name of the book store, but it smelt more like a slice of turkish delight. Like that old perfume his mother used to spray. The one that drowned bystanders, sucking out their life forces, while she looked so revived afterward. ¡°It¡¯s three for the price of one,¡± the bookkeep told him. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°That book your holding, it¡¯s got three stories in one.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± He put it back. Three stories in one? Surely just the one would be better, he disliked discord and loose endings. He preferred one consistent story. Three would be too many, all discombobulated surely. He liked consistency so much he¡¯d made it his job. He watched the bookkeep for a minute, wondered at his life. Did he enjoy working in a book store? He tided the shelves, gently tugging or pushing books so the spines all lined up. He looked relaxed and pleased with himself. A Slice of Life hmm. The old man didn¡¯t think anyone¡¯s life could possibly be more interesting than his own, and yet sometimes he wondered if maybe just maybe he was missing something. If there wasn¡¯t something else there beneath the surface of all their seemingly mundane lives. As if someone very important, someone in the middle of a war between heaven and earth itself, might just walk past and he wouldn¡¯t even know. There was a word for that he was sure. A word for feeling like you were only seeing glimpses of the vast landscapes of other people¡¯s lives. A word he couldn¡¯t remember. But he had an appointment to keep and he couldn¡¯t dawdle. He boarded a bus bound for the country. Preoccupied with thoughts of his mission he barely focused on anything around him. The bus stopped five more times to let people on and off. He finally turned his attention to the passengers at the last stop as they stepped past the bus driver. A man in a forest green coat, an old lady with a cane, and a young boy in a baseball cap. Something different caught his attention then. The bus driver. Something about him was familiar but the man couldn¡¯t quite place his finger on it. He went back to ignoring things and the rest of the world passed him by. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He got off at the last stop and then hired a car to take him the rest of the way. Somehow the night¡¯s rain in the city had missed this part of the world. There was dirt and dust and pollen out here and he hated it just as much as the hustle and bustle of the city. He missed how the world would be in 50 years. He missed home. But first he had a job to do and time was ticking. To his dismay there was some traffic jam in the middle of Main street. The car in front had stopped for some kids, one whom had dropped his ice cream. The kid was taking precious time to get up. The car in front tooted. The man tooted his own horn adding to the chorus. He drummed his fingers on the wheel and checked his watch. ¡°Come on, come on,¡± he mumbled. Evidently the person in the other car was just as impatient for their horn sounded once more. Unfortunately for that person it brought the ire of the kid¡¯s older sister. There was some angry words and then the matter seemed settled and the kids ran off. To the old man¡¯s relief traffic started moving again and with just enough time to spare too. He found a park beneath a sturdy old pine and there he left the car. The shop he was looking for was within an easy walk. He waited for the most recent customers to leave and then he snuck in the back. ¡°Mr Miller, a moment of your time please.¡± He held the gun low. Mr Miller went with him without complaint but with obvious fear in his eyes. Past the car they walked and deeper into the forest until they came upon what the old man deemed a perfect clearing. ¡°Please, I haven¡¯t done anything wrong,¡± Mr Miller begged as the old man wound a dial on a small pocket watch. These sorts of jobs were easier to pull off in times when the target still lived. No one would identify a dead body as belonging to one who was still alive, if he was even found here at all. ¡°No, but had you lived you would have,¡± the old man replied as he pulled the trigger. He wiped the gun down then threw it away. It landed among the needles in another clearing. The old man wound the pocket watch dial again. He pulled out a notepad. The next name on the list was an odd one, an animal, not a human. But apparently it was important enough to later become the symbol of a movement his retainers wanted to destroy before it started. He had hoped to spot it in the city, he¡¯d been told it was a regular there, so loved by the people it got to ride the bus for free. He¡¯d taken the same line but it had never gotten on. He thought back over his day and he suddenly remembered where he had seen the bus driver. He¡¯d been on a billboard, a pianist of some kind. What an Earth had he been doing driving a bus then? Was he really a pianist? Or had the old man¡¯s enemies finally found him? The driver hadn¡¯t made any difference though had he? There was something the old man was missing but he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on it. Well it didn¡¯t matter now. He checked his watch. It was time to find that damn bird. Play It Straight... Or Don鈥檛 [NSFW] It was Casey that pulled Dodge back towards the bed. She had no more detailed plans beyond getting the other woman there. She had never done anything like this at all before. But she had dreamed about it. Sometimes late at night she¡¯d think of Dodge and her fingers would wander south beneath the band on her undergarments, to that spot between her legs. Then down and inside herself where she¡¯d always find that a part of herself had turned to liquid. Then she¡¯d draw her fingers back out and using her own lubrication, she¡¯d rub that special spot, faster and faster until her back arched and her toes curled. Until her body quivered and bliss was found. Until she was forced to stuff her fist inside her own mouth to suppress her whimpers. Casey could feel the moisture seeping out already, as Dodge¡¯s strong hands slid their way under her shirt. No one had ever touched her like that before and her stomach did a sudden somersault, and flinched uncontrollably beneath Dodge¡¯s fingers. Dodge noticed, for Casey could see the sly smile forming on the woman¡¯s plump slightly parted lips. Dodge¡¯s lips almost matched the colour of her red hair, which fell about her face as she looked down at Casey¡¯s petite chest. Dodge reached out a hand and tucked Casey¡¯s soft blonde locks behind her shoulder. Then she kissed her once again, first on the neck and then on the lips. The first kiss had been sweet, gentle. This one was hungrier and Casey¡¯s eyes widened as she realised Dodge¡¯s tongue was in her mouth and oh how it moved about with expert precision. Casey imagined that tongue in another location and how that would feel. Warmth flooded her crotch. Dodge¡¯s gentle fingers tickled her waistline again but they did not drop any lower. Oh, how she wished they would. One finger brushed below the waistband of her skirt. She shivered. She couldn¡¯t help herself. But still Dodge¡¯s fingers remained at a reasonably respectable level. They traced, and dipped and teased, but they would not go down, not all the way, not yet. Dodge pulled away from Casey then. Her grey eyes met Casey¡¯s green ones and she asked, ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Casey nodded but she could not speak. Her body yearned for nothing else but Dodge¡¯s touch. She reached for Dodge¡¯s belt and started to undo it. She heard Dodge give a sharp intake of breath at Casey¡¯s touch. The sound almost made Casey want to do the same. She pulled Dodge back toward the bed. She was not sure she could stand for much longer. But Dodge stopped her, intent on teasing just a little longer. One hand wound it¡¯s way around Casey¡¯s back and then pulled her in close and tight. She could feel Dodge¡¯s strong muscles pressing against her. The other hand finally slipped its way down. Down all the way. Casey felt her insides flutter. More moisture coated her thighs. Casey whimpered as Dodge slipped her fingers inside. Her knees buckled as she gave in to that touch but it didn¡¯t matter, for Dodge held her sturdily in place. Dodge brought her slick fingers to the front and slowly right up and over Casey¡¯s clitoris. That hot feeling between her legs grew warmer. Dodge drew her hand out. ¡°N-no, d-don¡¯t stop.¡± Casey trembled. Dodge smiled. Such a beautiful smile. Casey reached for the buttons on her own shirt and without tearing her eyes from Dodge, she undid them all. Soon her shirt and brassiere lay at her feet and her modest but perky breasts lay bare for Dodge¡¯s enjoyment. At the sight of them, Dodge bit her lower lip, slowly letting it slip back out from beneath her top teeth in the most alluring fashion. Casey forgot what she¡¯d been doing and just stood there in nothing but her skirts, as she watched Dodge. Dodge removed her own shirt. The red tips of her nipples stuck out hard. Casey took a step forward and reached out to caress the soft curves of Dodge¡¯s breasts. She cupped both her hands over them and gently squeezed. Then she ran her fingers all over Dodge¡¯s skin, reveling in it¡¯s smoothness and softness. Dodge undid the button on her own trousers and let them fall to the floor. Casey¡¯s trembling fingers reached for the waist on Dodge¡¯s underwear, hesitant, nervous, but also longing. The corner of Dodge¡¯s mouth turned upward in a half smile. She took Casey¡¯s hands and pushed her gently back toward the bed. She removed Casey¡¯s skirt and then with deft strength, she lifted the smaller woman right up on to the bed. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Dodge removed the last of her own undergarments as Casey watched with a quickly beating heart. Then she joined Casey on the bed. Placing one hand at either hip, she pulled the rest of Casey¡¯s clothing off and flung it behind her and somewhere onto the floor. She did not glance back to see where it had landed. Instead, watching the expression on Casey¡¯s face, she placed one hand at the woman¡¯s inner knee, and slowly she slid that hand higher. The heat between Casey¡¯s legs grew hotter and hotter, with every inch Dodge¡¯s hand moved. She could feel the flush all the way in her face, and between her legs some more silky liquid leaked out. As Dodge drew her hand ever closer and closer, she slowly lay her naked body down beside Casey¡¯s. She leaned on one elbow. One finger casually stroked one of Casey¡¯s nipples, around and over her skin. With the other skillful hand she slipped her way inside and then up and out. She started to move her finger back and forth, up and down between Casey¡¯s legs. She was ever so slow, and ever so gentle at first. Just the lightest touch. Casey¡¯s back arched. Her hips pressed down hard into the mattress beneath her buttocks. She was certain if this continued her whole body might explode at any minute. Her heart raced. Her breaths quickened. Her mind could focus on nothing but Dodge¡¯s touch. And then Dodge stopped. Casey¡¯s back dropped and she looked at Dodge and begged, ¡°M-more, p-please.¡± With a dashing smile Dodge got up from where she lay and she re-positioned herself between Casey¡¯s legs. She poked her tongue out from between her teeth teasingly and then she dropped her face down and licked right where her fingers had been before. ¡°Oooh,¡± was all Casey could say. That feeling was different. Like nothing she¡¯d felt before. Strong and soft all at once, just like Dodge. ¡°Oh god,¡± she whispered as Dodge¡¯s hands tickled her hips and her back. Dodge kept licking and her fingers traced lines on Casey¡¯s skin. Slowly they moved around to Casey¡¯s front. ¡°Oh oooh.¡± Casey¡¯s whole body shook. Her back arched once more. She tried to push herself harder against Dodge¡¯s flickering tongue. Dodge obliged, pushing harder back, moving faster. Casey breathed in sharply as suddenly she felt her insides explode. Her crotch started pulsating rapidly. Heat flooded her entire body. She stretched her body right out, her back lifted right off the mattress, and then she collapsed inwards again with uncontrollable shudders. And Dodge was there, wrapping her tight in a hug so warm and loving. ¡°Oooh,¡± Casey sighed, lost in a perfect bliss. And they lay there like that, all warm and cozy, until Casey turned to Dodge. Her fingers found that spot between Dodge¡¯s thighs and she was pleased to note the wetness there. She traced one finger up and she could hear Dodge¡¯s breath quicken. Her lips were inches from Casey¡¯s and she could see the tremble in them. Still slowly caressing that little spot between the legs that Casey knew felt so good, she leaned forward and sucked on Dodge¡¯s lower lip. ¡°Do my ear,¡± Dodge requested as Casey drew back. Casey obeyed, sucking on Dodge¡¯s earlobe. All the while, her fingers moved in slow circles. She could feel Dodge¡¯s body respond to every rotation. ¡°And my neck,¡± Dodge whispered, baring her skin to Casey. Casey kissed her way down Dodge¡¯s body. All the way to the spot where her fingers drew circles. Casey wasn¡¯t sure what to do now though. What Dodge had done had been amazing, but Casey had never used her tongue before. She glanced up at Dodge but Dodge had her eyes closed, obviously enjoying things. ¡°I... I¡¯m not sure what to do,¡± Casey admitted. Dodge opened her eyes and looked down. ¡°W-w-what you¡¯re doing is great.¡± ¡°I mean with my tongue.¡± Dodge smiled. ¡°Try it if you want. I¡¯ll tell you if I don¡¯t like it, but j-just if you want.¡± Dodge¡¯s words were slow and breathless but her smile was gentle. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back again. Casey nodded and she lowered her mouth. First she flicked her tongue, so just the tip brushed Dodge¡¯s clitoris. She could feel Dodge¡¯s whole body tense up at that and she smiled at the reaction. ¡°Mmm, slower,¡± Dodge breathed. ¡°But golly, do that when I¡¯m close maybe.¡± Casey wasn¡¯t sure how she¡¯d know when Dodge was close but she did her best and slowed her pace, using more of her tongue. She could feel Dodge¡¯s legs shaking. She tried circles with the tongue, the same as she had done with her fingers. Dodge gasped and then moaned in response. As Casey continued the circles she felt Dodge¡¯s whole body get tenser and tenser. She glanced up and could see that the edges of the pillowcase were twisted and tightly curled in Dodge¡¯s clenched fists. Casey kept with the circles, slowly pushing harder with her tongue. Bit by bit she increased the speed. Curious to know what Dodge felt like inside, and without ceasing in her licking, she pushed two of her fingers gently in. She could feel Dodge tighten in response. Then she started to whimper. The tightening increased and then suddenly there was more moisture and a pulsating feeling. Casey could feel it and it reminded her of her own explosion. She felt some satisfaction in making someone else feel like that. Remembering how great the hug had felt after, Casey did the same thing and wrapped her arms around Dodge¡¯s naked body, nuzzling her nose sweetly into the soft spot where Dodge¡¯s neck met her shoulder. Dodge''s hair had a light smoky scent, almost like gun powder. Dodge sighed contently and kissed Casey¡¯s forehead. And there they lay for quite sometime in blissful silent appreciation of each other¡¯s company. Snakes and Ladders "Sssso you ssssee," spoke the voice. "You ssssimply bite the bread and you will have the powers and sssssentience you ssssseek. It''ssss eassssy." The duckling cocked it''s head and the slithery snake, keeper of secrets, could not be certain the fluffy yellow creature understood. The snake had seen so many other birds come and try their wing at the quest, and yet still fail. It was starting to think there was none capable of toppling the iron feathered rule of the swans. Perhaps the bread had been a bad idea, and it should try the apples again? But the duckilng bent forward and gave the bread a few quick nibbles. It stopped to ponder for awhile. Then it''s tiny body gave an almighty shake and it dove beak first right into the yeasty feast until not a crumb was left. The keeper of secrets, looked on this with pleasure. Perhaps there was a slither of hope after all? The duckilng gave another shudder and then with eyes which now registered meaning, in a voice very wise for one so small, it remarked, "Why that was a fine meal. Thank you for your hospitality, but may I inquire, is there ... more?" The snake rose up. It''s shiny scales gleamed. It nodded. "Yessss! Yesss! At the palace, but first you must defeat the swans that reside there, for only a bird can get past the guards. They are are responsible for all the woes in this world. Defeat them and none shall ever grow hungry again. Thou shall be king in their place. It may take ssssseveral months of training before you are ready, but fear not for I sssshall teach you all I know.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Months later... Entry into the place was easy, for no guard could resist such divine plumage. The King of swans soon appeared and shook its long and graceful neck with anger. "Your duck kind are the worst! When I was young and grey they called my feathers dull. Now look at me. I am the fairest of the land! You shall not defeat me!" The duck cried ¡°SSSSSSILENCE creature. You reign is at an end!¡± With a devilish stare and resounding QUACKsssss! The duck caused all of the windows in the palace to CRACK and SHATTER. The swan bared its sharp teeth but it was no match for the quick jabs of the duck. As fast as a serpent the duck struck the swan, and when it withdrew, two puncture wounds marred the evil swan¡¯s plumage. ¡°What is this?¡± cried the swan as it fell to the floor. ¡°Who are you?¡± The sepent threw off the feathery cloak. ¡°I am the keeper of secrets and now I am the king!¡± Several years later... ¡°And that is why,¡± said the mother duck to her offspring, ¡°You must go to bed early, always eat your bread and be good little darlings. Otherwise the Grand Serpent shall punish you.¡± ¡°Oh ssssstop ssssscaring the children,¡± remarked the Grand Serpent to his beloved Queen. ¡°They won¡¯t ssssleep if you frighten them too much.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s the truth.¡± She nuzzled his sleek scales with her beak. ¡°You saved us all. I never could have done it with only a few months of training.¡± ¡°It was a team effort. I never would have thought to hide under a cloak of your old featherssss and use it to ssssneak past the guards.¡± Beneath the pair of them, four little velociraptors pretended to vomit at the display of affection shared by their parents. And that is the story of how the dinosaurs came to be.