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Friday, July 12, 2013

Buckminster & Amber 59 Wormhole -3

My vision returned to normal . . . sort of. Everything was red, and then there were these weird, green bird things that sucked protons from the atomic structure of flesh and skin—very dangerous. I mean, when you’re out of protons it’s game over. I’d read about them in Hairball  Magazine some time ago and thought they were extinct. But not here.

 They weren’t that big, but they swooped around me like starving vultures sensing my presence as I ducked behind a puffy cloud, never guessing that I hold sudden death in my claws. “Make my day, bird boys.” I held my breath, ready to pounce, but to tell the truth I don’t think they were into fur. They went gliding away, so I moved on, wondering what lay beyond the next cosmic corner. That’s when it happened.
I saw movement, erratic and blurry at first . . . coming my direction . . . fast.  Then I saw what it was.


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