Tuesday, March 15, 2016

magic isn’t real

It was neither particularly hard nor particularly easy. In many ways it felt like shooting high proof hooch or snorting thorn-fire. There was pain, but it wasn’t very important.

The young wizard tensed for half a breath. In one smooth motion, the curved blade opened up his huge belly. Between fried egg puckering lips of slipping fat, the wizard withdrew his intestines. Pink-orange and bloody, they coiled wetly on the ground.

Two careful loops formed a clove hitch. He pulled it tighter about his neck.

Pain was beginning to win out against shock and laudanum. Hurriedly he hung his guts in a figure eight around the heavy cleat.

“Jump…” he whispered.

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