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The Hidden Mall 37: By a Thread
Leaf
aldersprig
Abby didn’t scream. Later, it would occur to her as strange: her heart had dropped she’d grabbed for the ropes around her, but she hadn’t screamed.  She hadn’t made a sound. But as soon as she had any sort of handhold, she’d looked for her Livs.

They were both fine; Vic was fine, if gaping.  and her shoulder was suddenly yanked as all of her weight fell onto her hands grabbing onto the thinning ropes.

The pavement was a long, long, long way below.  Someone else was screaming - someone near her, someone who had been too close and was scrambling backwards, reaching forf some sort of support.

Abby looked at her Livs.  She looked down, down, down at the pavement.  “There,” she grunted. “up there, on the left.  Meet me there.”

“But you-”

read on…

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Experts
Leaf
aldersprig
A Fae Apoc story prompted by @SkySailor.  Set in the post-apoc of Fae Apoc. 

💠🔹💠

“Excuse me?  Excuse me, I’m looking for an expert?”

He looked like nothing you’d stop to look twice at, and most people didn’t even bother with looking once.  He was weedy, small, underfed. Fifteen years after the collapse of most of the world, he looked like - well, like it was a miracle he was still alive.

Nobody worried about him.

“What sort of expert, son?  We’ve got all sorts here.” The aging professor had not been quite so aging when the school had stopped being quite the same institution he’d been hired by.  Tenure was, however, tenure, and there weren’t that many universities hiring Labor Economics professors in this day and age.

Not when they were more worried with the simple economics of laboring enough to survive.

read on…

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Haunted House 20: Girl Talk
Leaf
aldersprig
First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
Previous: Wardrobe

🌳🏚🌳

Mélanie sat with the wealth of clothes on her bed - her bed, her room - and was unsurprised when they began to carefully hang themselves.  “I don’t suppose you do alterations, do you?” she asked the air. The clothes would fit her, mostly, but the very nce trousers would look nicer if they weren’t cinched in three inches with a belt.

The hanger tilted side to side thoughtfully.

“Maybe?  Sort of? Requires you to talk and you’re not a big fan of talking?” Mélane guessed.  She had no idea if the house could talk and, if it could, why it didn’t.

But on the last option, the hanger started tilting forward as if nodding.  

read on…

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