Falling and Listen form part of another thread, one less focused on place, and more on character. Two characters, to be exact, locked in a perpetual comedy of errors: deadman and hare.
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Something was poisoning the air. Hare
smelt trouble, and she had a hunch who
was behind it. The land was stripped
and broken, hills gaping like drowned fish.
Hare couldn’t fathom it yet, but she knew
that deadman was close.
Hare found deadman cowering, down in
the guts of a mountain. He was looking
queasy. Around him the ground was
riddled with digging, the opened rock
dumb-mouthing what he had done.
Hare saw deadman’s strained grin
and she understood: deadman
was glowing, getting brighter.
Hare could see his face crawl
as the light corroded his skin.
If deadman so much as blinked
he’d fly apart in one searing flash