Week #509 - Do Dinosaurs Dream of Proto-Sheep?
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Wordcount:


This story was critiqued by:
Tyrannosaurus (crit)
Albatrossy_Rodent (crit)
rohan (crit)
The man called M (crit)

prompt:
I'm being chased through the jungle. I've escaped from some kind of prison. I cut my hands on the corrugated metal roof I'd climbed and they're bleeding. Gunshots whizz past me. I hear the howls of dogs. I run faster. I realize that I'm running up the side of an ancient, dormant volcano. The dogs are nipping at my heels as I make it within fifty yards of the top. There's a tree that's grown on the very edge of the cliff and is stretched out over the drop. I know that in the middle of this volcano there isn't lava but rather tropical blue water. It's breathtakingly beautiful. I also know that the distance from the cliff to the water is right at the edge of human survivability and that if I jump, I might die when hit the water. I'll at minimum break my bones. I run up the tree like a ramp and Assassin's Creed dive out. As I fall, I howl a declaration of war at the water in the hopes that if the impact kills me and I'm at war with it then maybe a Valkyrie will take me to Valhalla.

Interpretation: it's like all about fear of being trapped in a dead end man

Where the Rubber Meets the Road
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