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[An Alliance]

Who's making excuses?   I assumed I had until the end of the 18th....

An Alliance by WHAM

I thought this was an awesome story.  The atmosphere was moody, the characters strong, and the background world pregnant with possibility.  I agree with some of the comments already posted that it might not necessarily make for the best short story, but I think the world, characters, and plot problems all have terrific potential.  I especially liked the clanish-ness of the rodent tribes and their distinct characters.  My favourite character was the one-eyed mouse of the woods, just because his body tells quite the backstory and he's obviously got quite a complex set of motivations.  Obviously this wasn't something explored in depth in the story, but I want to find out more about him, whereas other characters were more easy to figure out off the bat (e.g. the quick-tempered Red Tooth, the cerebral Old White...).  I also liked your use of language in describing the setting as "wreathed" in fog as moonlight "crept" down the stairs.  Nice strong verbs there.

A fox knows many things... by jahnocli

I very much liked the atmosphere at the beginning of the story.  It had this grim foreboding feeling, which unfortunately didn't quite pan out in the end.  My favourite character was Prickly, mostly for his "Dickensian" manner of speaking (who uses the term "mutual advantage" anymore?).  I thought their plan was sound and the story-world plausible, except for the incongruous internet gambling bit.  While painting a vivid picture in my mind, some of your descriptions also jarred a bit with the rural setting: "the fog teased like dry ice" speaks of a degree of scientific familiarity that doesn't quite seem to fit in with animals living in a forest.

Ice-cream by Sinitrena

While you've adhered to the rules, I think your entry  bends the spirit of them a bit too far.  Yes, we know there's something different about Kessy even before she goes all Elsa-ice-queen on the creepy fae guy.  But outside of her weird look and powers, there's nothing really inhuman about her.  In fact, she seems to relate more to being human than to her "real" people, right down to the shallow teenage sassy-ness of her attitude.  I was intrigued by the ending about the longer backstory of her adopted family and the fairies, but shocked at her cavalier attitude in not even enquiring after her lost sister, so self-assured she was that the fairies would try to make contact again shortly (after 15 years of nothing....).  Kessy is for sure the best character in your piece, because you've definitely nailed down the frustratingly impulsive attitude of the human teenage girl, but I'm sorry to say that I can't actually like her.

Votes:

Most Convincing Protagonist: Prickly, by jahnocli
Best Story: WHAM
Best Writing: WHAM

You have until November 14 to get those votes in!

Gah!  I'll never make it in time!

[Leave No Stoner Unturned]

Leave No Stoner Unturned

   â€œAw, c'mon Toad.  Don't be such a stick in the mud.”

   â€œThat's how I hibernate....” Toad grumbled, squelching himself deeper into the chilly muck.  A brisk north wind foretold the coming of the snows.  Like it, lump it, or stick it, now was the time to hole up for the winter.

   But Mouse would give his friend Toad no peace.  Mouse was a mangy looking creature with a crazed glint to his eyes, the product of too many long seasons sleeping rough and living hard.  His claws were cracked and caked with dirt, and his teeth were stained an unhealthy orange.  Yet although his scars and creases belied his years of hardships, his voice as always conveyed a sense of lazy mischief.

   â€œI mean....” Mouse drawled on casually, “That mud looks awfully wet and cold.”

   Toad grimaced unhappily and sniffled despite himself.  He was, in many ways, an unlikely friend for Mouse.  Toad was fat while Mouse was thin.  Toad was vain while Mouse was unkempt.  But the biggest difference was in terms of their personalities.  Whereas Mouse was perfectly content to ride out life's hardships with a joke and a smile, Toad was perhaps the world's most miserable whiner.  He made such wretched company, in fact, that none but the most desperate extrovert would ever seek him out intentionally. 

   Mouse was, of course, that desperate extrovert.  Sociable to a fault, he was also careless in his reckless hedonism and had long since burned through the goodwill of all his real friends.  But still he needed someone to share life with.  Toad, for his part, just needed someone to complain to.  And so each got something of value from what seemed on the outside to be a pitiable arrangement.

   Toad licked his eyeball and frowned sullenly.  “Well?” he asked at length.

   Mouse drew his lips up into a crooked smile.  “It's over the hillock and across the field.  Nice place.  Warm.  Good food.  You could nap in style in a warm bed and on a full stomach.  And when you're feeling up to it, we could play bones and smoke mushrooms!”

   Toad licked his other eyeball.  He was rather fond of smoking mushrooms, if only because it distracted him from the misery of his existence.  “Sounds too good to be true,” he moaned.  “You're not squatting again, are you?  I remember what happened last time....”

   â€œNo, no, no.  It ain't like that, buddy.  This is more of a.... co-habitation arrangement.  It's all above board.”  Mouse gave Toad a double wink.

   Toad farted in the mud.  He didn't much like the sound of it, but anything was better then another half-frozen winter hibernating in the bog.  Last year he developed an ice-lens in his sinus that gave him a splitting headache until it finally thawed out in May.  Reluctantly he hauled his corpulent body up and out of the muck.

   â€œGaaaaah!  How can the air be colder than the frigid muck!” he complained, stepping gingerly onto a rock. 

   â€œHey, hey!  The faster you hop, the faster we get in out of the cold,” Mouse coaxed.

   â€œHrmph,” was Toad's reply.  He'd get there when he bloody well felt like it.

   *   *   *   *   *   

   â€œYou gotta be kidding me,” Toad groaned, staring up at the towering wall of masonry in front of him.

   â€œNo, no no.  This is great,” Mouse said.  “Here me out.  So the people here are 'over-housed'.  You ever heard of that?  They got too much space.  Gotta fill it up, see?  We're gonna help them out.”

   Toad groaned again.  He felt the buyer's remorse, just like after his third sex-change.  “They got any cats or dogs?  What about snakes?”

   â€œNo, no, none of that.  I cased the place, man!  This place is meant for us.”  Mouse flashed an orange smile at his friend.

   Toad groaned for a third time.  “Tell me at least you got the mushrooms,” he grumbled.

   â€œHey, yeah, sure thing!  Well, not on me.  They're in there!  I've already moved in.”

   Toad and Mouse hopped under the porch steps and through the accumulated detritus to a small crack in the foundation of the house.

   â€œYou gotta be kidding me,” Toad complained.  “I can't fit through that!”

   â€œAh, sure you can, buddy!  I've seen you singing in the springtime.  You're two-thirds air!  You just gotta deflate yourself a bit, and I'll bung you through.”

   Toad half-heartedly tried to squeeze his mass through the crack, but ended up looking more like someone had tried to plaster over the crack with a wad of warty goo.  “This isn't going to work,” he said flatly.

   â€œSure it is!  Toads are made of rubber.  You just gotta bend your bones into the gaps.”

   â€œWhat.... That doesn't even make sense!”

   â€œYou're breathing too much.  You gotta deflate.  You want me to suck at one end?”  Mouse drew up close to Toad's face with puckered lips.  A waft of foul breath settled around Toad's airspace, and he instinctively recoiled deeper into the fissure.

   â€œThat-a-boy, Toady my man.  Keep going!”

   â€œOh god, it hurts!”

   â€œAll the more reason to squeeze through faster!”  Mouse pulled out a miniature toilet plunger from under a pile of rotting leaves.

   â€œWhat the-?!?  What is THAT??” Toad asked in a panicked tone, willing himself to recede further into the tiny gap and away from Mouse's new toy.

   â€œI made it!” Mouse chuckled proudly.  “Out of a broken pencil and a plastic popper toy!  You should see the humans use them when they're playing with their droppings!”  He aped a human dancing around a puddle of scat, jamming the plunger furiously in and out and in and out.

   Toad whimpered in fear.  “Mouse... I don't want you to stick that thing on me.”

   Mouse gave his friend another double wink, then raised the plunger.

   â€œMouse...  I thought we were pals?”  Toad squeaked, lamenting inwardly that he did not have the eyebrows required to make his expression more pitiful looking.

   SMLURP!  Mouse jammed his improvised toilet plunger right into toad's face and started to agitate it vigorously.

   â€œMrrrrmmfummmuggurrrr!” Toad screamed in a distant, muffled kind of way.  Mouse could not see it, but he would have surely chuckled at the way that the changing air pressure inside the plunger made Toad's eye bulge to twice its normal size on every upstroke.  Slowly but surely the mangy rodent was able to drive Toad deeper and deeper into the crack.  Only when he was dripping with sweat and exhausted from the effort did he relent.

   Toad gasped for breath with two disembodied lips, the rest of his body being now hidden in the twisted depths of the crevice.  “I can't feel my legs!” he whined.  “My arm is bent backwards, and there's something sticking up my ass.  It might be one of my legs!  My head is pinched to half its width and stretched to twice its normal height.  And there's something jagged sticking up my nose!  Oh god, the pain!  Mouse, there's no way this is worth it!”

   â€œHuh?” Mouse muttered pensively.  “Yeah, maybe you're right.  Maybe I should just go off and smoke this mushroom here.  All by my lonesome.  Thinking on what a bad idea this all was.  Well, see ya buddy.”

   â€œMouse!” Toad squeaked desperately.  “Mouse, you bastard!  You can't leave me like this!  You gotta pull me out of here.  But let's have that mushroom first, to help with the pain.”

   Mouse was a generous creature at heart, if rather thoughtless in deed.  Quickly the mushroom was lit and with some considerable dexterity on Mouse's part even Toad was able to partake in the psychedelic pleasures of the purple smoke.  And then, more then just a little addled, the two tried to extricate poor Toad.  They tried pushing and pulling, and lubing him up some jelly Mouse had found in a bedside drawer from the house.  They even tried tying a spider thread around one of Toad's exposed limbs and tying the other end to the people vehicle out in the driveway, but due to some remarkable non-newtonian property of toad-flesh it managed to rip through his body and out the other side without budging him in the least.

   â€œI'll be stuck here forever!” Toad lamented.

   â€œNah!” Mouse countered, ever the optimist.  “You'll slowly starve, thinner and thinner.  And then come springtime you'll slip on out of there.  Like the droppings out of a rabbit butt!”

   â€œOoooooh!” Toad groaned.

   Mouse did his half-assed best to jury rig a shelter over the opening of the crack using broken chunks of wood and a few torn bits of plastic bag.  He was then obliged to spend the whole winter heating the tiny space by burning through his considerable stores of mushrooms.  Toad complained frequently, of course, but one might argue somewhat less than usual, and at least now with a great deal more cause.  Five months hot-boxed in a contortionist's nightmare might even have changed his perspective on life for the better were he not mistakenly hoovered up by a rogue anteater the following April, just as he was starting to loosen out of his predicament.

   The anteater, for his part, got a wicked crazy mind-trip out of the experience.

   As for Mouse, he became a boxcar hobo after that, drifting from town to town like a scruffy skeleton-ghost, cackling gleefully sometimes for no apparent reason and always responding to voices that no one else ever heard.  Well, that was until he was converted to an esoteric branch of evangelist Christianity by a hard-speaking street missionary, but that, my friends, is another tale entirely. 

I'm also working on something.  About half-finished.  I should easily be able to make a Wednesday deadline.

[JudasFm]

All righty then!  I figured Sinitrena had this one in the bag, so all the trophies are skull-sperms.   Sorry!

First place goes to JudasFm for her Blade Runner-esque tale of flawed clones escaping from flawed humans.  I was a little confused by a weak introduction of the fifth member of the party (Astra), but in the end I was able to piece it all together.  Your notes on the broader story make me intrigued to read further as well!  I liked how all of your characters were so distinct from each other physically and personality-wise, although I suppose that's also why their alliance crumbled so easily....  It's like a rogue mutant clone just can't catch any breaks, right?

Second place goes to Sinitrena, which hopefully results in some sort of fraternal twin scenario since otherwise the second place sperm is sadly redundant.  I for one would be interested in at least a synopsis of your lost work....

So I guess that's it for another round.  True to any Dwindling Party horror trope, the real heroes are the supporting cast who crashed out of the competition in order that our two finalists could successfully submit their entries in the end.  Hopefully everyone shows equal dedication next round by sticking to the theme with equal vigour.

Take it away, JudasFm!

Too busy to close this properly at the moment, so I'll leave it open for voting until Friday.  Sorry!

[Sinitrena]

Brilliant, we've got a competition!

Our contestants are, in order of brevity:

Sinitrena: Sperm
JudasFm: Measure of a Man

Entries are to be judged on the following criteria:

Best Character: the most believable/captivating/magnetic/unique character
Best Misfortune: best death or misfortune that removes a character from the group
Best Atmosphere: the eerie, suspenseful, or possibly comical sense that anyone could be next!
Best Writing: the technical category for polish, word-choice, conciseness, etc.
Best Unpredictability: could you figure out who would make it from the outset?  If so, don't award this vote!

Voting will remain open until Tuesday October 23, 2018.

Very well.  All competitors now have until Thursday Oct 18 to complete their entries.

24 hours left to top that!

CaptainD got his arm stuck up a vending machine, and WHAM fell into a vat of liquid mutagen.  Sinitrena got stuck on a velcro wall, and Stupot fell down a well.  Mandle got kidnapped by a flock of ravens, and Frodo got thrown into prison for tax fraud.  Kyriakos got sucked into another dimension, while Ponch slipped between the cushions of his lazyboy recliner and hasn't been heard from since.  Who is left to see this competition through to the end, I wonder?  This party is dwindling like the booze ran out....

Something approximating a week left.  Get on your horse and write!

[The Dwindling Party]

You announce an exciting writing competition theme.  Several friends volunteer to participate.  But then mysteriously they begin to drop out, one by one.  It looks like you have yourself a serious case of...

The Dwindling Party




But that would never happen here.

In all seriousness, the Dwindling Party is a long established trope in fiction.  Done properly, it can be full of mystery and suspense.  But beware of the pitfalls!  Don't kill off your poor Red Shirts before the reader has a chance to empathize with them.  The misfortunes themselves need to blend into the plot, and not be glaringly obvious from the offset.  Three misfortunes, that's possible.  Seven misfortunes, there's an outside chance.  But nine misfortunes-- I'd like to see that!

Entries will probably be judged on the following criteria:

Best Character: the most believable/captivating/magnetic/unique character
Best Misfortune: best death or misfortune that removes a character from the group
Best Atmosphere: the eerie, suspenseful, or possibly comical sense that anyone could be next!
Best Writing: the technical category for polish, word-choice, conciseness, etc.
Best Unpredictability: don't make it obvious who's next, but don't make it so not obvious that it's obvious either.

You have until Monday October 15 to submit a story, poem, or the best dang op-ed piece that anyone will ever read!

Good luck!

Whoa, a come from behind victory!  Thanks for all the votes folks!
   
It was really interesting how the three of us entrants took the theme in completely different directions.

I'll try to get the next competition up and running soon.

[Best Character:]

Best Character: I'm going with Frodo and her Queen bacterium, or whatever she was.  Although her resurrecting Man 5/Jesus figure was a close second.

Best Plot: Definitely Frodo, as her story was more plot based.  It was a fun read!

Best Writing: I'm going with KyriakosCH on this one.  There were small technical errors in both pieces, but I felt KyriakosCH's writing used a more in-depth vocabulary.

Best Atmosphere: Eeeeee.  I'm going with KyriakosCH by a whisker.  But, jeez, he's been tormented since childhood: just pull on the rope already!

Best use of topic: I think Frodo wins this category.  Her story took the theme in an unexpected direction.

[Punder the Sea]

        Punder the Sea

   The tiny penny fish flit cautiously through weeds, aware that the hypnotic dance of the sunlight from the waves above could easily conceal a stealthy predator.  Then again, if he were to be eaten en route he would at least miss his odious appointment.  Summoning the courage to temp fate, the penny fish darted out from the weeds and raced through the grandiose marble columns of the First Bank of Atlantis.  Unfortunately, he made it.

   â€œMr. Blobfish will see you now,” the bug-eyed secretary fish called to him.  The penny fish sighed and entered his banker's ornate office.

   â€œMr. Penny,” the Blobfish scowled at him in greeting.  “How's the family?”

   â€œMostly eaten, I'm afraid.”

   â€œGood, good,” the Blobfish replied absently, clearly glad that the formal niceties were now over.  “Now, let's get down to business.  The Bank is concerned that you are having something of a cash flow crisis.”

   â€œNot true, sir!” the penny fish piped up, trying to head off the inevitable fee-laden rate-hike that Mr. Blobfish was notorious for.

   â€œHmmmmm....” the blobfish frowned, his jowls quivering slightly as the syllable drew out.  “It says here your mortgage is underwater.”

   â€œWell, yes, that much I concede, but-”

   â€œAnd you're still in school.”

   â€œYes.  Obviously.  I mean, after all, I am a-”

   â€œInvestments are mostly illiquid....”

   â€œNow I can explain that-”

   â€œAnd your credit rating is plumbing new depths.”

   â€œUh.... Is it?”

   â€œMr. Penny,” the blobfish gurgled sourly, “surely I needn't remind you that the Bank is built on minimizing risk.”  He eyed the penny fish disdainfully.  “The Bank must insist on a rate-hike commensurate with your abysmal risk-profile.”

   â€œWait!” the little penny fish interrupted.  “You gotta give me a chance!  You're bleeding me dry here!”

   â€œHumph,” the blobfish humphed.  “Are you telling me you would prefer to take your business elsewhere?”

   â€œUh.... no.  I'm not saying that.”

   â€œI hear the loan sharks on the upper east side specialize in dealing with minnows like you.”

   â€œHa ha.  No, what I meant was-”

   â€œOr perhaps you think a customer of your net worth would fair better at the Grand Banks?”

   â€œThat's not what I-”

   â€œMr. Penny,” the blobfish grimaced, “Your assets are tanking and you are on the hook for a titanic sum.  You are in desperate need of liquidity.  Under the circumstances, I can't imagine you getting a better deal anywhere else.  Sign here.”

   The penny fish moved his mouth wordlessly.

   â€œWell?  I'm a very busy financier, and there are many other fish in the sea.”

   â€œIt's just that...” the penny fish began slowly, working up his nerve.  “It's just that, well, I've been planning to start up my own business.”

   â€œWhat?”  The blobfish's eyes bulged in disbelief.

   â€œUh, that's right.  I'm going into the hydroponics business.”

   â€œHydroponics!  I'm not investing in the tech bubble.”

   â€œNo, wait.  Hear me out.  My angle is to diversify into the cephalopod market.  I've already inked a contract for an octopus's garden in the shade.”

   â€œI've got a sinking feeling about this enterprise....”

   â€œAnd look at the macroeconomic picture!  The labour market is buoyant and stocks are rebounding.  The tide raises all ships!  Now is the time to channel investments into sectors about to face a sea-change.”

   â€œI can not fathom why I am even considering this....”

   â€œRemember Bait-coin?  You can turn drops into gallons when all those frothy revenues start pouring in.  After our flagship product makes a big splash, we'll be swimming in the money!”

   â€œAll right, all right!  I'll take the plunge!  Where do I sign?  How much do you need?!”

   In an ocean this big, there's a sucker born every minute.
   

My plan was to keep quiet and then post something a few minutes before the time expired, so as to win by default

That was my plan all along as well!   Great minds think alike, I suppose.

Congratulations Sinitrena!

Oh man, I was so tired when I read that the "dozing" just didn't register as an adjective, even after I went back and reread it to make sure.  Sorry Sinitrena!

[BEST CHARACTER]

BEST CHARACTER - Ferrungis by WHAM.  He's like an overworked middle-aged dad, once all powerful but now ground down by taxes, inflation, and the general indignities of growing ever more feeble.  Not exactly charismatic, but he sure played to my demographic.

BEST WRITING - I'm going with WHAM, with Sinitrena as a very close second.  Both painted terrific pictures in my mind, but some editing lapses in Sinitrena's work broke the spell.  Tickling a dozing?  Er....

BEST STORY - Now this category must be Sinitrena.  That... was... EPIC!  Before I started reading I was a little apprehensive of the length, but on finishing it I'm thinking it's actually too short.  You've got material here for at least five chapters in a larger novel.  I'm with Wiggy on this one: flesh it out as a novel and try to get it published.  I'll even offer my editing services for a discounted fee....

BEST ATMOSPHERE - Again Sinitrena, for creating a complex world of magic and misery.  I should note that I liked WHAM's grungy world as well, but I think Sinitrena's spoke more to my soul.

BEST DRAGON - Eeeee....  I think in terms of character it must be Ferrungis by WHAM.  Sinitrena's dragons didn't relate enough at our human level (until the end) to really get to know them.  Durinde's dragon did a cute little cameo, but I never really felt like I knew... er, them.  And Wiggy's ladies seem, uh... a little less than magical.

Overall another good outing, folks!

You're never drinking alone in Canada, eh?

If you keep extending the deadline, I'll keep procrastinating!   As it stands now I'm already planning to retire further west so that I can eke out a few more hours before the comps officially close.

Quest for Concord

   â€œDecay, destruction, ruin, and woe,” Carla Fae pronounced as she surveyed the devastation of the ruined city.  Great skeletons of steel stood sentinel over the tumbled concrete and rust that made the whole terrain a treacherous web of danger.

   â€œThat's catchy,” Debbie Lee replied as she spat dust through the gap of her missing front teeth.  “You gonna put that in your dairy book?”

   Carla Fae shook her head.  “I think it's Shakespeare.  And it's a diary, not a dairy.”

   Debbie Lee took a big swig of brown water.  It might have been clear once, before she added a dram of whiskey to kill off the bacteria.  But chances were it was brown from the start.  “One forgotten word's as good as another,” she said.

   There was a long moment of silence as the two women listened to the distant bleating of a motorcycle echoing through the desolation.

   â€œThere are still those of us who believe that there is much knowledge to be gleaned from the Olden Days,” Carla Fae said at last.

   Debbie Lee waved her hand over the ruined landscape.  “Yeah, looks like them folk had it all figured out.”

   â€œMaybe older Olden Days,” Carla Fae conceded.  “Before the Tyranny of Science, people believed in powerful beings that could raze the Earth and remake it again.”

   Debbie Lee spat again.  “I'm not interested in you running your mouth on about Gord.”

   â€œIt's god, not Gord.  And I'm not talking about some invisible man in the sky.  I'm talking about the dragons.”

   Debbie Lee rolled her eyes skyward but said nothing.

   â€œThink about it,” Carla Fae continued.  “The metal-faced wizard visits in the night.  The king meets with his council and summons all his knights for a quest.  The knights all charge off on their bikes into this nest of shrapnel and debris.  There's something important going on here, and I think it has to do with dragons.”

   â€œWhy dragons?” Debbie Lee asked skeptically.  “Why not something real, like sky spiders or zombie coyotes?”

   â€œBecause of the mark,” Carla Fae said simply.  She remade the complicated design in the dust.  Debbie Lee recognized the stick-boy kicking the ball next to the number five, above an A and an E, both with too many cross lines.  The men had all painted it on to their shields before roaring off into the purple haze of dawn.  “It means dragon in old take-out speak.”

   â€œSo what?  The knights couldn't find shit if it was dangling from the ends of their noses.  Remember that Grail fiasco?”

   Carla Fae shook her head.  “We both know the men folk are all just quish junkies and paste heads.  That's why we have to do this.”

   Debbie Lee looked sideways at her bookish friend.  “You said we were raiding an abandoned hooch mart!”

   â€œThat was just to get you out of the brooding hall.  I tell you, Dee-El, there's something to the legends, and the metal-faced wizard sure thought he was on to something this time.  What do you say, old pal?  Care to show the boys how questing should really be done?”

   *   *   *   *   *

   The purple glow of dawn receded into the dull green glow of their third day in the ruins.  Debbie Lee rolled off the rusty springs that had provided her with a surprisingly comfortable night's sleep.  She  horked her morning loogie and wondered idly if she'd be lucky enough to find another pigeon to juice today.  Carla Fae was carefully reading some graffiti prophecies by roach-glow in the deeper recessions of the underpass.

   â€œWhat's that smell?” Debbie Lee asked as she approached, suddenly noticing an enticing waft.

   â€œWhat?  Oh, I couldn't sleep, so I rustled up some roadkill bacon.”

   â€œNice!”

   Debbie Lee tucked happily into her breakfast while Carla Fae continued to study the wall.

   â€œWell?” Debbie Lee asked, licking the last of the grease from her fingers and picking the hair from between her teeth.

   â€œThe text is damaged,” Carla Fae said absently, gesturing at the pock-marked wall.  “But, I think it's indicating the presence of a dragon temple in a pavilion on a floating mountain.”

   Debbie Lee knew most of her letters, but struggled to make any kind of sense out their infinite combinations.  “It looks like the scribblings of a booze-mummed toddler.”

   â€œLook here,” Carla Fae pointed.  “It's stylized, but if you squint you can see the dragon symbol.”

   Debbie Lee squinted real hard, but... wait.  Now that it was pointed out to her, it did look an awful lot like the dragon symbol they'd been chasing.  “Well, I'll be a floating brain-squid's mother.  I do see it!”

   â€œI'm just struggling with the floating mountain bit,” Carla Fae confided absently, deep in thought.

   Debbie Lee scrunched up her eyes and let her own mind-gears spin.  She was well aware that she was more the muscle in their partnership, but she did enjoy firing the odd neuron now and then.  “Maybe we can see the mountain from up high on one of these steel towers?” she thought aloud.

   Carla Fae shook her head.  “No, they're too precarious.  If we don't fall off, we're as likely to die in a collapse.  And there's not a lot of cover up there if it starts raining sky spiders.”

   â€œGood point,” Debbie Lee agreed.  She picked her ass to help get her thinking juices flowing.  “What if we went to the edge of the dust bowl?  It's nice and open there-?”

   Carla Fae snapped her fingers.  “Debbie Lee, you are a nerd-lord!  In ancient times the dust bowl was flooded by a great brine puddle.  The floating mountain was probably a hill that stuck up out of the brine, appearing to float!”

   Debbie Lee was getting excited, too.  “So all we have to do is find a hill in the dust bowl with a monument on top!  Well, that and cross the dust-bowl without being attacked by zombie yotes or sky spiders....”

   Carla Fae frowned briefly, then brightened.  “I think it's time we jacked a hog.”

   Debbie Lee smiled back.  Jacking was one of her strong points.

   *   *   *   *   * 

   The two friends climbed the great stairs in front of the monument.  Behind them stretched the parched barrens of the old brine bottom, and behind that loomed the stark skyline of the rusty ruins.  To the west a cloud of sky spiders seethed menacingly in a growing wind that was beginning to churn up the dust.

   Debbie Lee spat an impressive fourteen-footer downwind.  “Storms brewin',” she said.

   Carla Fae was entranced by the carved stone decoration of the ancients that towered above them.  “Storms are but a symptom,” she replied absently.  “They spawn from a far greater evil unleashed by the hubris of the ancients.”

   â€œEr....?” Debbie Lee responded.

   Carla Fae shook her head and smiled.  “Perhaps the dragons can help us?”

   â€œI reckon we're about to find out.”

   Together they climbed the remaining steps and passed over a great serpentine seal carved into the floor stones.  Even Debbie Lee could decipher the unmistakable pattern of the dragon's mark.  The building itself seemed to moan, and then the floor vibrated perceptibly.

   â€œSo... what exactly is a dragon?” Debbie Lee asked with an affected calmness.

   â€œHeh, how silly of me not to share.  I've read a lot of conflicting accounts, but there are some basic similarities.  They are powerful armoured beasts, capable of flight and making fire out of thin air.”

   â€œHuh,” Debbie Lee sniffed.  “Kinda like men, then.”

   Carla Fae furrowed her brow pensively.  “Some accounts mention great wisdom,” she said at length.

   â€œAh,” was all Debbie Lee replied.

   â€œ...But others stress the qualities of greed and gluttony.”

   Debbie Lee arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.  A sudden clap of thunder made them both jump.

   â€œThey are extremely long-lived,” Carla Fae continued in a quavering voice.  “And they have impeccable memories.  They will remember the Olden Days, and the many eras before that.  They will remember what brought the desolation upon the Earth.  In their great wisdom, they might even know how to-”

   They both froze in place as a fell shadow swooped over them, but in the merest blink it had vanished as suddenly as it had come.

   â€œUh....  So what do we do when we meet a dragon?” Debbie Lee asked.

   Carla Fae opened her mouth to respond when suddenly a much louder clap of thunder crashed through the interior of the monument.  The ground lurched sideways and they both lost their footing.     

   Debbie Lee was the first back up on her feet.  “See-Fay!” she hissed, straining her senses to detect the direction of the attack.  “What do we do now?”

   But Carla Fae just lay on the ground, the most peaceful look glazed over her face.

   â€œOh shit,” Debbie Lee muttered to herself.  Then there was another clap of thunder.  Almost instinctively she leapt, the sideways lurch of the ground this time sliding her unconscious friend to rest against the statue of an ugly serpent, but she herself landed safely on the ground once it had steadied once more.

   â€œImpressive...” a booming voice echoed.

   Debbie Lee squinted through the gloom in all directions, but she could not detect the source of the voice.  “Er.... Thanks,” was all she could manage.

   Two glowing eyes appeared against the blackness of the high ceiling, and they slowly grew until a monstrously huge face of a bearded lizard resolved out of the gloom.  “Hmmmm....  Brave and skilled, and yet also well mannered?” it rumbled.  “What is become of men at the end of days?”

   Debbie Lee did not quite know what to make of the giant talking beast.  Her bladder had already made up its mind and had completely surrendered, but something inside her mind screamed at her not to follow suit.  So, despite shaking inside worse than the floor had just moments ago, Debbie Lee drew herself up her full height and replied: “the men are a bunch of cunt-faced idiots!”

   Great.  A quest to the death to find salvation for the world, and that's what comes spilling out of her word hole?  Inwardly she kicked herself, but was careful to keep her eyes locked on the dragon's.

   To her great surprise, the beast reared its head in laughter.  The building shook, and she couldn't help glancing at her unconscious friend to make sure that no further misfortune had befallen her.

   â€œToo true,” the dragon boomed.   Then a guileful expression crossed its face.  “I suppose you know better?”

   Debbie Lee considered this.  She figured it was mostly true, but in her experience it had never paid to play up one's smarts.  Better to be underestimated and surprise, rather than come across as arrogant and disappoint.  “Me, I don't know nothing.”

   The dragon blinked, then lowered its head again, thankfully to a less threatening distance.  “Humble as well...  Tell me, are there any noble qualities that you do not possess?”

   â€œEr... I'm ok with no bull.”

   At this the dragon laughed once more.  “Tell me, my straight-talking fellow, what is it that you are trying to achieve in your quest?”

   â€œUh.....” Debbie Lee stalled.  “Well, see the thing is, my friend was kind of in charge of most of the figuring on this trip.  I think....  I think she wanted to know how we could go about fixin' up this shit hole.  Or something like that.”

   The dragon stared at her for many long moments.  “Quite,” was all he said.  In a flash he struck with his tail, shattering the statue looming over Carla Fae's body, sending debris flying back away from her, but leaving a shiny orb floating in the air just above.  On the backswing the dragon caught the orb with his tail and brought it with impossible speed up to Debbie Lee's face.  “There is something you will want to see, then.”

   Debbie Lee stepped back despite herself.  “Uh, no.  I'm afraid I'm not very smart when it comes to figurin' and such.”

   The dragon's head lurched forward so that it was eye to eye with her.  “That is precisely why it must you,” he rumbled, and then his tail slowly brought the glowing orb back between them. 

   The orb seemed to open into the yawning chasm of history, and suddenly the nature of the world was perfectly clear to her.