Tag Archives: existential crisis

TRaTR Part 2: Getting It Together; Chapter 14: The Gift Legends

In the Cathedral of Saint Decius there are many religious texts, but none so interesting as this. The Verses of Papyrus are much rarer than any Qu’ran or Bible or other book of religion in this vast, complex world we live in, but the words within are cherished by the sort of elite priests who like to keep to themselves in the far reaches of distant monasteries. It cannot be said whether these texts are mere fairy tales or some permutation of the true history of humanity, but this didn’t matter, for the only copy the heroes of our story would have encountered had been dropped out of Carla’s pocket onto the forest floor outside and lost. If you were to find this book, the open pages would have given you the following lost legends:

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Chapter 9- The Situation Gets Progressively Worse

Carla woke up with a problem. For the last two days, the young woman had been experiencing an enormous amount of stress, from fighting with her uncle to interdimensional travel to watching a man bleed to death in front of her. Besides all of that, everything that Carla had eaten in that time had been prepackaged and canned food- mostly beans and corn. On top of this, she’d spent a lot of the time dehydrated and moving around a lot more than most days. Of course, any dramatic change in stress, diet or level of exercise can lead to problems with one’s digestive system. And so it came to be that Carla had not used the bathroom since coming to the Lost Dimension.

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Chapter 2: Bohemian Rhapsody

Smith left with a single file folder. On the bus home he looked at the assignment. It looked like one of those 3-D pictures you were supposed to stare at cross-eyed, a jumble of random dots with no clear writing.

As soon as he closed the door into his apartment, Smith checked his phone to see if he had any messages. Manolios had returned the little Nokia with a knowing smile, but it had obviously been upgraded while in his care. There was a tiny camera attached to the back and linked into the phone battery. Smith had heard that the Redshirts were at least a decade ahead of civilian technology, but he’d never expect something as mundane as all this.

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Swelling

Geraldine Salinas stood perfectly still in the hallway. The bell was going to ring in a minute or two. Gerry held her notebook in one hand and the book she was reading for class, Peace and Boats, in the other. “What’s it about?” some overfamiliar stranger would ask her. “Peace,” Gerry would invariably reply. “And boats.”

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