Change That Tune: 2010+ Music Version Post by kailhofer » April 29, 2016, 10:56:33 PM This challenge was run by Eddie Sullivan The challenge was to take the title of a 2010 or newer pop song and write a story that the title inspired. Example story: Inspired by the title of the song "Come With Me Now" by The Kongos, 2011. Come with Me Now By: Eddie Sullivan Steven sat on the shore looking out at the surf breaking on the rocks under the moon light. The air smelled of salt and seaweed and the breeze felt cool on his face. He considered putting on his jacket, but thought better of it. The chill was keeping him grounded in the moment. The whisky was making him sleepy but he didn’t feel ill so he must have stopped in time. The waves were crashing and focusing his thoughts. The rhythms were repetitive and meditative. Susie shouldn’t have blurted it out like that at the party. It wasn’t his fault. No one should find out they were going to be a father like that, drunk with the music blaring. She knew he wouldn’t have been hanging on Jenny if he had known. He was a good guy. She shouldn’t have egged him on like that, he shouldn’t have hit her. He was sorry, but it was her fault too. Another thing, it probably wasn’t his kid they had broken up weeks ago. She had time to be anywhere with anyone in two weeks. She was weird anyway, some kind of exchange student vacationing here with her host family for the summer. It was a beach resort romance. He would just lay low the next three days and then go back to Westport with his folks. It would all die down then. He looked up at the waves as he thought he heard music just faintly. “Huh...Hello?” A bluish purple sparkle lingered by the surface a couple of feet out from shore. It was hard to focus on and see properly. The music increased with volume slightly and a head peeked up to the surface. “Steven, my love, do you hear my song? It is a song of love and forgiveness. I know you love me and are sorry.” It was her, Susie. She had come to forgive him. He got up and brushed the sand from his legs. He picked up the beer he brought with him from the house party and drained it. Going to her to explain was suddenly the right thing, she had swam all this way to forgive him. Something about that thought didn’t ring true for a moment but his doubt quickly faded. She was singing her song of forgiveness and love; it made everything all right and calm. He had to join her in the water and make it right. She raised out of the more a little more and the song somehow increased again in volume but yet still seemed soft and calm. She was bare breasted and the purple blue hue seemed to be coming from her under the water. She was lovely. He had been wrong to hurt her, wrong to strike her. He would go to her now and make amends. He went down to the water and stripped off his shirt and shoes. The water was cold, the Atlantic waters were always cold off all the New England states, it gave him a moment of shock. Why was he going in the water? What the hell was happening? He looked up to get his bearings and saw her again, and he heard the music. Somehow she sang, even when she seemed to stop to speak the song persisted. He again noticed her bosom, the young attractive bosom with the moon and sea water highlighting it. He had the natural reaction any young man would. She was here to forgive him. She was going to show her forgiveness in the most pleasurable way possible. Everything would be all right. He waded out about half way to her as she spoke. “Come love. Be there for our baby. Do your duty. You are essential to us. We could not leave without you.” Steven knew these words were true. They needed him, he needed her in a different way. Everyone would get what they needed. All he had to do was go a bit farther into her waiting embrace. He said nothing to her now as there was nothing to say, she wanted him. His child needed him. The last few feet of surf was all that separated him from where he should be. She came just the slightest bit forward at the end and embraced him. He felt her chest press on his bare chest and warmth spread through his body. She kissed him deeply, yet the singing somehow continued. Her tongue went in his mouth and tasted of honey and cherries. He felt weak and realized she was supporting him in her arms. Steven looked down and saw her bottom was no longer legs and feet. It was tail and scales, they glimmered in the moonlight purple and blue. Susie stared into his eyes. She lowered her mouth to kiss him again. She broke the kiss and smelled him. “We need you Steven. The baby and I must eat before we return to the depths. I will take you into me and nourish our baby. You will die so he may live. You will be with us always.” He felt her teeth break the flesh as she embraced him in a hug and pulled him under the surf. It was all no burden, he would be there for them. It would be just fine, the music said it was true. The End Top User avatar kailhofer Editor Emeritus Posts: 3245 Joined: December 31, 1969, 08:00:00 PM Location: Kaukauna, Wisconsin (USA) Contact: Contact kailhofer Change That Tune: 2010+ Music Version Post by kailhofer » April 29, 2016, 10:57:35 PM Inspired by the title of the song "Just in Time" by Barbra Lica, 2014. Just in Time By: Rod Taylor I am watching him when he disappears. No camouflage, blending with the background, dropping flat. Just plain vanishes. The spotter camera is new, the image perfect. Remote streaming every second to my web drive. I pull the viewfinders away, rub my eyes, replace them. The path is still empty. I get to my feet, slowly, pushing up from the park bench, camera glued to the spot. Eighty meters, perhaps ninety, just where the meadow ends and the forest begins. Then suddenly, movement in the trees and I snap the lens up. Focus. Gasp. He’s there, walking the path. Out of the forest now, not in. Ten meters from where he winked out, going the other direction. Chestnut hair messed up, dark green jacket--torn? I can’t quite tell. Moving quickly now, over the open ground. Towards me. Looking at me. I stash the camera and yank my smartphone from its pouch, swipe it open. Speed-dial, first entry as I turn, start towards the park gates. Nobody in sight. It’s just him, and me. “Hello?” “Janet. It’s me.” Trying to think of what to say. “I need backup.” “What--Sam, what? You on one of your spying missions again?” “Something like that.” Over my shoulder he’s gaining on me. Maybe thirty meters now, his face intent. A gash down the side, like he’s torn his cheek on something sharp. Blood oozing down to his chin. “Bird watching,” I say. “I get it. So, call the ambulance?” I start running, past the deserted playground. Birds scatter from the bushes along the path, among them two of the crossbills I’d been trying to watch. “I don’t know,” I say. My breathing labored, the words broken up. “Something fast.” “Sam, I’ll call you back.” Silence. I stow the phone, fumbling with the magnetic catch. My poor condition is really starting to show. Breath coming in desperate gasps, chest burning. The gates don’t seem any closer. My pursuer, the vanishing man, nearly on me. A quick glance, all I get before he takes me down, a flying tackle below the knees. My head spins as I topple, arms flailing, trying to cushion the impact. Too slow. My head hits, ears singing as the world lurches, whirls down to darkness. For a moment, I don’t remember where I am. Then it all comes back in a rush. On the bench, new camera cradled in my hands. Watching the grosbeaks in the big pine down by the path, near the edge of the forest. With the amazing zoom I can pick out every detail from a hundred meters, probably more. It’s the perfect time of day to catch birds in their habitat, not a soul here but me. A few strategically placed caches of birdseed along the tree-line and I’m getting the greatest footage I’ve ever strung together. The birds suddenly scatter. I scan the trees nearby. Fox, perhaps? Raccoon? A shadow emerges from the dimness and I zoom the camera back to take it in. The man saunters casually out along the path, his hunter green jacket neatly buttoned, chestnut hair immaculately combed. I watch him through the lens as he strolls along the path towards me, turns to move out across the wider meadow and the swamp on the far side of the park. Something, somehow, familiar in that face… My smartphone buzzes, yanking me out of it. I set the camera down and swipe the phone open. “Sam,” I say. “It’s me.” There is an urgency in Janet’s voice. “Are you alright?” “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know, I just had this feeling, like something wasn’t quite--Sam, where are you?” “Sitting on a bench in Langmore Park. Streaming footage.” “Nothing weird going on?” “Peaceful and quiet. Up until a moment ago, I was the only--” My head hurts and there’s a dizziness behind my eyes. Slowly I lift one arm, rub a hand across my aching jaw. Blood there, a thin gash down my left cheek. I sit up, wait for the world to stabilize around me. Mixed forest, maple and birch, pine, hemlock. Birdsong everywhere. Chickadee, finch, cardinal. And there, a junco. My bag is lying beside me, the contents spilled out across the ground. Water bottle, tuna salad sandwich, apple. My new camera, its lens damaged. Birdseed, the bag spilled and seeds scattered. I shake my head, moan at the ache there. Something is definitely not right. I need to get to a hospital. Heave myself to my feet and collect my belongings, shoulder the load, move off deliberately down the path. The meadow just ahead, yellow grasses swaying in the breezy sunlight. My eyes adjust slowly, finally focus on a figure standing across the edge of meadow, maybe a hundred meters. Beside a bench, his bag there on the seat. He turns, fumbles with the bag, does not see me wave. Begins to walk away, quickly. My shout is lost in the breeze. I start to jog, an awkward gait, but it galvanizes me. “Wait,” I yell. The words come out unformed, garbled, as if I’m out of practice. The man ahead seems not to notice, stumbling unevenly forward away from me. I move faster, desperate now, catch him just past the playground. He is shaky, staggering, but my energy is nearly spent. I have to stop him. Lunge for his ankles, bring him down in a heap ahead of me. His foot bounces up and hits my temple, and all goes black. “Sam?” Janet’s voice is anxious. “Sam?” I open my eyes. Paramedics all around. Oxygen mask over my face. I blink at her. “You had another attack,” she says. “Hit your head. You’ll be OK.” I nod. Pull the mask away. “My footage?” “Perfect,” she says. “Great nature shots.” “Nothing else?” She kneels beside me. “No. Now get some rest.” As I’m closing my eyes, across the meadow I think I see a green shape move against the yellow grass. Probably nothing. The End Top User avatar kailhofer Editor Emeritus Posts: 3245 Joined: December 31, 1969, 08:00:00 PM Location: Kaukauna, Wisconsin (USA) Contact: Contact kailhofer Change That Tune: 2010+ Music Version Post by kailhofer » April 29, 2016, 10:58:42 PM Inspired by the title of the song "World Peace is None of Your Business" by Morrissey, 2014 World Peace Is None Of Your Business By: JP Garner Do you yearn for the good old days proper warfare? Do you miss a sense of right and wrong, and which side you're on? A time when it was acceptable to be different and people had pride in such things, when violence and national identity worked hand-in-hand. We all know that the changes the world has gone through are for the better, but it leaves no place for the inner workings and necessities of mankind's soul. Civilization began with organized violence and for the first time in human history, civilization is held up without such organization. While this is a tremendous benefit to us all, it leaves a hole and hunger in the human psyche. At World Peace Inc. our aim is to balance these factors. Join us for a peaceful warfare retreat, in which everything happens with full consent and there are no losers. Should you choose victim, or conqueror, is all up to your discretion and taste. Armaments and battlefield, lodging and accommodations, are all provided in a discreet and private location. Not only is this an opportunity for you to live out your instincts, but you can also do mankind favor with the intentional trimming down of the population in a consensual way. Conqueror Package: Have you ever wanted to be on the winning side of a battle? To engage the enemy without fear of negative repercussion? To be on the side that is just, without involving civilian collateral damage? If so, the Conqueror Package is for you. We provide you with a weeklong authentic battle scenario against those who have signed up for inevitable defeat. The bloodshed is real. The tactics are real. The warfare is real. It is the stakes that have changed. For the first time in history you can go into war for the actual betterment of mankind. Two needs filled with one game. Human instinct and population control. Victim Package: Have you ever wanted to be immortalized in valorous defeat? To stand up and die in battle for a good cause? To see the enemy rise and face your fall without fear , courage expressed through action. The Victim Package allows for total defeat without shame. To die for the cause of the salvation of the world, to go up against an enemy which you know to be your friend. The Victim Package offers a unique perspective and civilized way to offer self-sacrifice as a means to benefit the world population. If neither of these packages suit your taste, try our new auxiliary Battle Reenactment Program, with less certain odds but all of the gory details. Be a part of history in more ways than one, full regalia provided, but by all means the enthusiast may provide their own. Leaving anyone behind? World Peace Inc. also offers full tax-deductible write offs for your family and loved ones. Satiate your instinct and help the world maintain its immaculate balance, affordable, humane, and civilized, World Peace Inc. offers you the best of both worlds, for the betterment of the world. The End Top User avatar kailhofer Editor Emeritus Posts: 3245 Joined: December 31, 1969, 08:00:00 PM Location: Kaukauna, Wisconsin (USA) Contact: Contact kailhofer Re: FLASH FICTION INDEX 2: Dec. 2011 - ? Post by kailhofer » April 29, 2016, 10:59:28 PM Inspired by the title of the song "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas, 2010 I Gotta Feeling By: Sergio Palumbo Huvd was in the middle of a lush park, sitting on a bench, his senses unusually at ease (finally!) - the same as his huge eyes. Of course he was still tuned-in and still listening to the voices that came at him from all directions. His telepathic enhancements made it easy for him to keep an eye on the city that stretched into the distance surrounding the park, so there was no need to use any mechanical listening devices. And then, they came, again: all those lamentations, curses, screams. They were yelling out, crying out, with sorrow and regret. -A ship was approaching the seaport, two miles from the park, and it was clearly off-course. The captain had unexpectedly left the bridge before the time and the crew felt lost. The paying passengers were fighting each other, trying to take their baggage with them instead of assisting the elderly people in need. More than that, no officials on the shore were proficient enough to prevent the disaster from occurring in the few minutes remaining; -A crowd was crying out because of a sudden strike that had stopped the subway. It had occurred in combination with a protest by all the city taxis whose drivers had parked their vehicles in the road and were walking home, preventing any private car from moving forward or turning around. It was an unbelievable hurly burly that wasn’t going to cease anytime soon; -Meanwhile, in the City Council’s chambers, a politician with no experience at all about the specific matter before him was eagerly signing a document which required that people followed some unnecessary laws. He was thinking only of his friends who would benefit from the unscrupulous regulation instead of the good of all the citizens. The policemen outside, who were supposed to be guarding the entrance, were in a bar nearby airily sipping coffee, leaving no one to look out for thieves who were stealing computers and other devices in the main hall of the same building. None of the video-cameras were working correctly because no one had set them properly, nor had they activated the internal link due to a disruption in the secondary electrical system that had just occurred a month ago; -An outdated hospital was turning away most of its ill patients given the scarcity of beds, so there was complete and utter confusion among sick who shoved and objected. Meanwhile the hospital’s three new buildings, that had been completed two years ago, were still closed due to the lack of the necessary inspections because the regulations changed every two months. Besides that, one of the new structures was obviously going to collapse soon because of the poor materials originally used to build it; -An experienced judge was thinking about how he could set free a known assassin who was connected to the local mob, without appearing to be corrupt, though he clearly happened to be. He was trying to find an useful technicality he could use, which would ultimately save his personal career, too; And many, many other calamities kept popping up, minute by minute: an unceasing series of boasts, false claims, unscrupulous actions, and unlawful decisions… --------------------- “Are you back from your vacation?” the high-ranking officer asked Huvd as he entered the control room. “Yes, I am,” the tall hairless bear-like alien replied. “That primitive planet, and especially the unorganized country I was in is the perfect place for ones like us to have some rest and relaxation. It’s wilder than a jungle!” “But there are really no wild beasts there…” the other objected. “Oh, there are, in other forms…In a way, being there just makes you feel alive, with no rules to follow, no laws to be respected and no consideration for anything or anyone. It’s so different from here, where we are always bound by our regulations and by our duties.” “Yes, you’re right,” his colleague added with a knowing look. “So, you finally gotta feeling after so long. Are you planning to go back there when you have more free time?” “There? Well, probably not. After all, the place where I stayed is a country named Italy, that is so unstable, so uncertain, how can I even be sure it will still exist on that distant planet when I go on vacation again in a couple of years? I don’t even understand how that country is still standing…” “Do you mean you wouldn’t like just another day or two?” the other asked him. “Exactly. I don’t mind visiting there but only for a very brief period. When I come back, I like to find functioning up-to-date mechanisms, modern elevators that are still running, superior services, and a society that fits my needs. I can easily resist going back to that planet.” “I see. You’re not a romantic individual, nor an unruly one....” “Typically, nobody among us usually is,” Huvd replied in a plain tone. “We are all members of the Space Technicians’ Congregation, and we were built this way, in accordance with the wishes of our masters who genetically conceived us and matched us to fit the jobs we do. We are renowned across all the known inhabited systems for our great ability to pilot the most massive starships in this galaxy, finding the best course possible to get where we are going. Moreover, we have almost no feelings, we always restrain our desires and we lead a life of unending training, improvement, and continuous upgrade. We are connected to the main computer’s navigation system so we always work together during the journeys. Our telepathic senses were enhanced to let us get to our destination quickly, and to protect our mind from external alien disturbances, if necessary, not for our fun or entertainment. Were we just romantic or unruly all the time, that could greatly harm us when we set out on our space flight, you know…” The other smiled, but it was a perfectly self-restrained, short-term smile, as common politeness clearly required. The End Top User avatar kailhofer Editor Emeritus Posts: 3245 Joined: December 31, 1969, 08:00:00 PM Location: Kaukauna, Wisconsin (USA) Contact: Contact kailhofer Change That Tune: 2010+ Music Version Post by kailhofer » April 29, 2016, 11:00:38 PM Inspired by the title of the song "Till the World Ends" by Femme Fatale. Till the World Ends By: Michele Dutcher By now, humanity was dispersed throughout their home star system, but most people lived on the third and fourth planets closest to the Sun, so people often wondered why the Sisters of Crystal were so far removed from the rest of humanity. The accepted response was that the time spent on the journey to see them was part of the price for their prayers. After years of suffering in silence, watching his mother anguishing over one particular incident in her long life, Dorvor decided he was willing to pay that price. The middle-aged man had been told on Mars that seeing the nun’s floating pyramid on Europa was worth the price of the star-ship ticket on its own merit, but Dorvor was unconvinced until he saw it out the ship’s window for himself. The crystal pyramid was twenty stories tall and moved over the surface of the planet’s cracked ice like a glass over an Ouija board. It had been constructed this way to continually dodge the bursts of water that shot out through the ice, exploding from the moon’s sub-surface ocean. The bottom floors of the pyramid were reserved for the pilgrims who visited the nunnery – pilgrims like Dorvor, who disembarked quickly from the spaceship, walking through the foyer. As he waited to be called in to his appointed audience with the Sisters, he looked over the informational plaques in the vestibule. He passed his hand over the metal plate and a reenactment could be seen. It showed the steamship Titanic hitting the iceberg in 1912, and people trying to escape the sinking vessel. The image then shifted to a woman in a church in Belfast who invited others to sing with her, “For those in peril on the Sea” while the ship was actually sinking. “Fascinating beginning, wouldn’t you say?” a second pilgrim, also a man, asked the nervous Dorvor. “Indeed. Praying for people during their greatest hour of need, using only spiritual insight centuries ago – it’s amazing.” “As I understand it, the basic idea holds true. If there is a God, then that being is beyond time and space, and so the constraints of time and space do not bind him. Praying for those at peril in the past is as effective as praying for those at peril in the present or in the future.” Dorvor was glad for a theological distraction while he waited. “From a scientific viewpoint, if the universe is holographic in nature, and each particle knows what every other particle is doing, then praying for anyone along any timeline is a viable option. Even Einstein believed that everything was happening all at once and it was all connected – our brains being instruments that allow us to separate time into individual rooms if you will.” “Nicely put,” said the older man. “I’m Tewold from Mars. I’m here about my dead wife.” “I’m Dorvor from Earth. I’m here about my mother. She went through a disaster in the Sea of Japan nearly 130 years ago – a tsunami. She’s dying now and has nightmares about the event whenever she sleeps – so I’m here to ask the Sisters to pray for her, so she can finally find peace.” A portion of the wall disappeared and a nun, dressed head to toe in red velvet robes, stepped before the two men. Her face was covered with white lace beneath a red velvet hood. She waited for one of the men to follow her. “Go ahead,” said Tewold. “Your mother is still alive while my wife can wait.” Dorvor nodded with thanks and followed the woman into the next room. They entered into a small cubicle, one of dozens surrounding the bright floor of an arena where a hundred nuns sat, their heads bowed in prayer. Above them floated hundreds of digital bubbles, each one filled with a prayer request for a person in the past. “We can’t change your mother’s past, only pray for her as she goes through the crisis - a tsunami I believe,” said the nun while focusing on the floor of the arena. “Yes, yes! She was on a beach and there was a tsunami that washed away the hotels and buildings. She keeps having nightmares about the injured people calling to her from under the debris. Somehow, she managed to get to safety before the second wave hit, but she has always felt guilty about her survivial.” The nun’s hood nodded slightly to show that she had heard and understood the man’s prayer request. A digital bubble appeared above their heads and, as the nun motioned towards the bright room, the bubble went out through the glass, joining the other prayers hovering over the nuns on the floor. The white lace face-mask turned towards the man. “Is there something you want to ask me,” whispered the nun in a comforting tone. “How far back have your prayers gone so far?” “As far back as the Fall of Rome. Using ancestry rolls we slip in bubbles with names of the ancient ones.” “And when does The Order see an end to the need for these prayers?” “We’ll keep praying for those in past peril till the world ends,” the nun answered resolutely. At this she gestured and the door opened. Dorvor stepped out into the hallway, to find the communicator implanted in behind his left ear was buzzing. “Rachel, what’s going on? I just finished talking with the Nuns.” “Grandmother is sleeping peacefully! She woke up and said something about hearing a bluebird singing on the hillside, as if it was leading her upwards to safety. She had forgotten about the bird until now, but saw it as a sign, urging her to climb out of the valley and live.” Dorvor smiled and looked back at the now blank wall. “I’ll be home soon,” he told his wife, breathing a sigh of relief. The End Top User avatar kailhofer Editor Emeritus Posts: 3245 Joined: December 31, 1969, 08:00:00 PM Location: Kaukauna, Wisconsin (USA) Contact: Contact kailhofer Change That Tune: 2010+ Music Version Post by kailhofer » April 29, 2016, 11:01:31 PM - Winner - Inspired by the title of the song "Clockwork Angels" by Rush, 2012. Clockwork Angels By: Wesson “Is it true you’ve never cried before, Elayne?” Elayne looked out at the grand city of Moonlight Station, paying only half attention to her fairy-friend’s rather personal inquiry. She was hiding below the sill of an open window thirty stories in the air: the perfect spot for a marksman like her. The twilight breeze rushed over her face like a warm stream, shaking her bangs. “Hey!” The tiny form of Nina the fairy zipped up and down in front of her, “Earth to Elayne – answer me.” Elayne shooed the troublesome creature away. “Of course I’ve never cried. I’m fifteen years old, crying is for little girls.” She used the scope of her rifle to scan the distant floor of the city. Just as she suspected the goblins were getting uppity again, walking about like they owned the place. Moonlight Station was once a peaceful human town until the green hoard graced it with its presence. Now it was war every day. The exception was nightfall. Surprisingly, the goblin warlord agreed to a civil compromise: No hostilities after dark. Elayne spared a glance at the clock tower nearby. It was an opulent work of art decorated with stone angels holding a bronze bell that chimed at dusk. This bell was the signal for both sides to holster arms until morning. The sun receded quickly, the colors of the day rushed to the western horizon turning the sky pink and the clouds black. If Elayne wanted a kill, it was now or never. “Nina, which one should I pick?” she asked. Fairies, however small, had superior eyesight; humans often enlisted their help in battle as spotters. The fairies often obliged in exchange for what they thought to be mankind’s greatest gift to the world: pie. Nina aimed a finger. “There, the one picking his nose by the water fountain. He’s totally exposed, you can’t miss.” Elayne surreptitiously took aim at the foul green skin. She inhaled and started to squeeze the trigger. The clock tower bell rang out. It was a dull, empty ring that echoed far into the distance and resonated throughout the town like a wild river. Nightfall had arrived. Elayne withdrew her rifle. “Saved by the Clockwork Angels …” she murmured to her lucky prey. “You know,” Nina began cautiously, “Ever since this war began the greenies have won every battle they’ve fought. Do they have a crystal ball or something or do you humans just stink at fighting?” “Talkin’ to the wrong woman, I’m just a grunt. Elayne crawled out from under the blanket hiding her body and wrapped it up. “Gotta go now, meet me here again tomorrow.” “Wait! Where’s my pie?” “I’ll bring you one tomorrow.” “Unacceptable!” Nina flapped her wings and flailed her limbs, “Pie now. That’s the deal.” “I have to meet someone first.” “Oh, you can’t be serious. That courier boy what’s-his-face? Markin?” Elayne held a fist close to her heart and closed her eyes. “We’re talking about my first love. This is a very important part of a young human girl’s life; I have to tell him how I feel.” “B-But,” Nina stammered, “You fall in love all the time. This is like your 12th 1st love isn’t it?” Elayne scampered back to the barracks like a rock skipping over a pond. A courier’s job was very important; he ran confidential information between friendly regiments both day and night. Elayne was lucky to even catch sight of Markin let alone catch him, and when she did she told him everything. The inevitable silence was filled by nothing but her own doubts. Would he laugh at her? Would he ignore her? Neither occurred. He patted her on the head and said: “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” The next morning, Elayne returned to her thirtieth floor nest with a jubilant bounce in her step. Nina was already there, half-buried in a pie she managed to pilfer from an unsuspecting human. She popped her head up from the crust. “What’s with the dopey smile? You didn’t actually confess your love did you?” “Of course I did, and he said he loves me too!” “He said he lov – does he even know your name? Ugh, why do I even try?” The sky was gray most of the day; sunlight struggled to shine through the muscular clouds. Dusk came upon them fast and even with Nina’s eyes, Elayne failed to spot a single target worth the risk of firing upon. Goblins weren’t the best marksmen but a single shot was all they needed to uncover her location. “… Elayne,” Nina said weakly, like she never intended to speak. “Look: down by the church.” Elayne used the scope of her rifle. What she saw stopped her heart. Goblins congregated around a single human: Markin. Far from attacking him, they seemed to be welcoming him. The girls watched with cold numbness as he revealed the hidden positions of human soldiers, including their own. “It can’t be …” So many of Elayne’s innocent beliefs disintegrated in front of her, replaced by the heaviness of stupidity. How could he say he loved her when he was plotting against her this whole time? The same look of sadness and betrayal overcame Nina’s features but it provided only a little comfort. “Guess it wasn’t a crystal ball after all. Nightfall will be here soon. Shoot him now.” The words were icy but accurate. Elayne took aim and framed her face to the task. She inhaled and secretly hoped that the Clockwork Angels would save him. Ka-bang! They didn’t. She withdrew from the window and hid herself. The clock tower bell rang out as the last bit of daylight shriveled over the horizon. And in the still silence of night, Elayne cried for the first time in her life. The End