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