#keen2meecha

THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

Awwww thank you! You’re so sweet <3

For a WIP where most of the characters are pretty fancy, you’d be surprised at how many of them got scars doing stupid things. Marta has a scar on her arm from when she fell down the stairs while wearing a sheet and pretending to be a ghost (she was eight). Heini, her younger brother, got one on his thumb from being bitten by a sheep. Sophie once accidentally cut her hand with her lucky letter opener, and even Hannelore--the most proper woman in the world--has a very small scar on her ankle that she refuses to disclose the source of.

[Send me a number, I’ll write a micro story using that word/phrase!]

Oooh, let’s see here.

32. dust motes

Shelves encumbered with stacks of yellowed pages and faded covers crowded, choked the space, cabinets leaning from the strain of age and hundreds of centuries-old files held within, blocking out most of the limited light. Newspapers and certificates and maps long out of date coated the walls or rested rolled up in the few empty nooks of the little room.

The air danced cool on my skin as I flipped to another page of the directory, scouring the lists for a single name, a single identity that existed long before mine. I shivered, cursing myself silently as I rubbed the goosebumps on my bare arms. Why did I always forget to wear something other than a tank top? Upstairs it may have always been sweltering from the building’s broken furnace, but down here in the archives’ vault it was always conditioned perfectly for the written history of people long dead. And imperfectly cold for the living.

The puff of dust from the book’s cover thunking closed mimicked the huff of my own exasperation. I set my chin in my palm, my elbow bracing on the desk as my gaze followed the trail of dust motes swirling from the disturbance. 

Three hours of searching and nothing to show for it. You’d think the existence of the daughter of the archives’ founder would be marked down somewhere. So why did her name, which we all knew so well, not come up once in the files of her time?

The dust particles drifted away. But... they didn’t settle. I pushed myself up from the chair. Why...?

There was a crack in the bricks. In between two bookshelves, a space of the original foundation stood, from the archives’ construction two centuries ago, with a fracture extending from the ceiling to the floor. The dust drew me following in curiosity and confusion, disappearing into that chink in the wall. I set my fingers against it, the air around them skittering into the darkness beyond, pulling gently on my skin.

The vault was underground. Twenty meters underground. Where the hell was this airflow going?

A single brick to the left caught my eye. Protruding ever so slightly out from the rest.

This wasn’t some fantastical story, where there was a secret passage in the vault of the city’s oldest archives.

Or...

This was some fantastical story, where there was a secret passage in the vault of the city’s oldest archives.

Pressing the brick pushed in a rectangle of the wall, the bricks sliding on some grinding mechanism out of the now open void, all I could see being a set of stone stairs leading further down into darkness.

Well.

~-~-~

I am quite literally 100% of the time ready and down for the bloop game! Eventually I’ll run out of facts but... as of right now, not yet!

So, in celebration of writing over 6 THOUSAND words today (yes, I’m very excited about it. Hush!), I will be doing facts about my MC from The Hand of Fate.

At the beginning of the story, she’s freshly out of a relationship, having been dumped 2 months prior

Her ex, in the first chapter, sends her a video of him having sex with another girl to completion. Unable to force her eyes away, she watches the whole thing

She is best friends with a gay guy named Josh and has a kitty named Sugar. An orange and white tabby. :D

Thank you for playing! I love the bloop game so much! The person that came up with the game should be PROUD of themselves.