“You made me a goddess! You made me this! I never wanted to be a hero!" “You accepted the role! You didn't have to." The girl took a step back, glancing down the hillside at the slaughter below. The night air chilled her bones, whipping her hair around her face. “And let them die?" She looked back at the girl and boy before her, hardly older than she. Their matching blue eyes were large in the light of the moon, gleaming with threatening tears, a kind of haunted disappointment, and an unusual smugness that the girl couldn't understand. “Lady, you are too kind," the older girl said, her voice calm, beyond her years.

FFM 27. Good Boy by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 27. Good Boy

The Ark stank. Less than a week into the torrential floods and I was beginning to see spots because of the smell. Dogs’ noses have a higher sensitivity to scents - scentsitivity, amiright? - and I was gagging every other minute. The other animals were doing the same. As wild animals, we weren’t meant to live in such cramped conditions. And as one of only two dogs chosen for this task, I was determined to be the best guest I could be and not cause any problems. We were pretty docile, though. I think the wasps were drunk on the air because I saw them both fly into the same wall about five times before floating lazily to the ground

FFM 26. Breaking Glass by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 26. Breaking Glass

She broke her foot on the glass-studded carpet. “Excuse me, sir.” “I’m a girl.” I passed a hand through my hair. A nod. Then, “Can you fill out these papers for your...partner?” “Wife.” I nodded. Mechanically obliged. Handed the clipboard back. Sighed. “How is she?” “Your partner is doing fine.” “Wife.” “She’s in recovery right now. Mighty bad cut she got. What happened?” A shrug. “Glass on the floor.” “Should probably clean that up.” “Sir? You can see your wife now.” A new doctor. “I

FFM 25. World War A by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 25. World War A

The Ant War began on a cold and grey Friday in July. One might have noticed the early warning signs - an ant in the bathtub, a line of them marching away from a picnic, two or three sneaking into one’s laundry hanging outside to dry. One might have been prepared for the war, if one knew exactly what to look for. And I knew what to look for. I saw one crawling across my desk that dreary summer day and smashed it with a tissue. Time and time again I protected my house against their invasion - poison on the windowsills, glue traps by the doors - but time and time again they grew immune to my traps and found their way up into my most priv

FFM 24. The Call by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 24. The Call

The story of how I slipped beyond the horizon is a short one, so read on and try not to vomit in zero-gravity. We left Earth almost ten years ago for someplace beyond Pluto, but a navigational malfunction last year got us lost and we veered straight off course and ended up in a meteor belt where we suffered minor damage. Dreit down in engineering would say they were pretty major damages, considering we only just finished patching up last week, but I say minor because no one died. Now we were back on course and headed for the horizon. All systems go and all that. In engineering, Dreit mumbled to himself and wiped a hand across his forehead,

FFM 23. Undone by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 23. Undone

The fire danced up against the night sky, tongues of flames leaping towards the heavens. It cracked and popped and spread wildly and those still in their homes got caught up in it and their cries went up in smoke. A young child stood on the path leading to the city, the sole survivor of a cleansing from their gods. Only this child - neither girl nor boy, fair nor foul, Marked by the gods - was worthy to live. The Marked One thanked the gods for their protection and turned away from the city. The Great Evil was undone.

FFM 22. Not Letting Go by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 22. Not Letting Go

I looked over my shoulder in the vague direction of home. Home, which now lay in ruins on Lake Ontario. I woke up one morning and the skyline was missing - the only thing that remained before we left was the CN Tower, and anything could have happened to it since. I didn’t expect to return, though, so we’d never know. Anyone who could have gotten out did so long before resources ran out. My brother and I were among the last survivors to leave and now we were headed west, to one of the last remaining major city centres in the western hemisphere. “How long do you think it’ll take to get to Casper?” I asked

FFM 21. Rumada Tower by mycrimsonheart, literature

Literature

FFM 21. Rumada Tower

Jara stood at the top of her tower, silently watching the siege below with a growing sense of dread. The city walls weren’t designed to hold against such a barrage. Hundreds in the Gard already lay dead at the foot of the walls. As she watched, the Gates finally crumbled and red-armoured soldiers swarmed into the streets, slaughtering as they went. Most of the city inhabitants left early last week, at the first sign of an attack, but the few stragglers - old women and sick men and pacifistic youth - died in their homes. Fires went up and buildings came down as the soldiers advanced on the tower prison. Jara continued to watch them, list

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