fiction

Erik and Rebecca stood at the bridge. The water moved below, carrying debris and struggling thrall. “Of course the thrall fall in there,” Erik says as he steps forward. “They are thrall, right,” he asked.

“So what’s your plan?” Erik asked Rebecca, as they sat waiting for the mob of thrall to surround them. “First step is to not die.” Rebecca said. “Honestly… and I always try to be honest,” Erik promised. “I’m good with dying. I’ve lived long enough. You wanna stab me and run, do it.” “Liar!” Rebecca shouted. It was a whisper but emotional, triggered by memories.

Erik wiped sweat from his brow as the summer heat loomed over him. His hands trembled as he set the duffel down, though he didn’t need anything it. He released the pry-bar and let it fall the short distance to the ground. He shook off the anxiety, wishing he had a shot to medicate it away. His knees throbbed and he knelt.

Erik screamed out toward the thrall. He listened as the towering stems and pig weed broke under the incoming horde. The tentacled Groundling reached out, brushed his ankle. Erik turned, snapped a thick stalk from the ground.

“I don’t always imagine something big and weird. Sometimes it’s on a smaller scale if you want to call a couple of hundred plant monsters small-scale.”Redd Church

A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse.

Napoleon had a small airport. Inside a small group of Kimerian giraffes practice to fly ancient planes.