Trifecta Week 85: Little Monsters

Owing to ridiculous amounts of school-work, I couldn't do Trifecta last week or the weekend, but thank you for the first place on Week Eighty Four, the support spurred me on to think about more plots with the character, and maybe there'll be a book. We shall see.

Obviously, this one is fantasy too, I shall call it Little Monsters.
The word this week is: 

FLY (intransitive verb)

1a : to move in or pass through the air with wings

b : to move through the air or before the wind or through outer space

c : to float, wave, or soar in the air <flags flying at half-mast>

2a : to take flight : flee

b : to fade and disappear : vanish

3a : to move, pass, or spread quickly <rumors were flying>

b : to be moved with sudden extreme emotion <flew into a rage>

c : to seem to pass quickly <the time simply flew>


Sometimes we’re baby dragons, nibbling at a piece of string or wilting flowers with puffs of smoke from our nostrils. Sometimes we’re tiny ants building a giant home with ten storeys and a hundred windows. Once we all planned together and built up ourselves to look like a man— flesh and bone and legs, hands and arms and fingers, little crescent moon nails so white and perfect.

We thought and thought of what he should wear, from the shape of his tie to the little mole on his cheek (that was my best friend Maura: she was so very proud!) and then we walked out of the house and down the rolling green hills and to the train station, and when the first train came,  we only stood and watched the wagons fly past: we were rapt in the shimmering strangeness of it all.

We climbed into the second train and climbed out at the city, and our feet owned the sidewalk and our smile charmed the girls. There was a starlet with a string of rubies around her neck like drops of blood, and she flirted coyly so we bought her dinner (we were the money too: how confused the manager must have been when we fell apart!) and after dinner we bought her wine, and then we stood on the threshold silhouetted by moonlight on one side and candlelight on the other, and she kissed our lips so firmly, and she tasted of strawberries and smoke, and we all fell apart amidst all the kaleidoscopic feelings, and went skitter-scatter over the asphalt. Everybody screamed and the starlet collapsed and we think she had to get therapy later.

The witch was very angry with us when we came back and locked us in a jar for a month and there really was no space and we nearly ate each other.

These days we’re only ever dragons or ants: humans are too much work.


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