by Lundy Burge
had up their sleeves.
He heard footsteps, then lost consciousness.
No one waited for them when they got off on the ground floor.
They didn’t pause to be grateful.
They just kept running.
Running through the nice lobby.
Running out of the sliding door.
Running through the empty streets lined with yellow lamp posts.
Running on the road leading away from the small town.
Running through the tall, indifferent trees.
The girl tripped and fell. The boy stopped to scoop her up.
They stood there for a little while, looking around at the ancient trees rising above them and light of the night.
Something felt wrong with the boy’s chest.
His heart had stopped.
The boy didn’t mind. He knew that his blood had been propelling itself for a while. He would stay up nights, just feeling it run through his veins not in a pulse, but in a study stream, like water being sucked up a drinking straw. His heart had only kept going out of habit.
The girl sat down, looking from her hands to the boy.
They both looked human, normal.
The boy wanted to keep going, to get away before anyone caught him again.
He looked at the girl, sitting forlornly, a broken, abandoned china doll.
The leaves crunched as he sat down beside her. He followed suite when she laid down.
The moon was a half-closed eye, the stars its tears, of happiness, sorrow, and fear all at once. In its drunken gaze, the two young mutants just laid there and watched it shine.
Birth of Pong
Near Miss
The Day After