Sparklies! 3.0.0
1.0 - Archive
Kyanite remembered hearing the report on the radio. He remembered bundling his aging parents, baby brother, pregnant wife and four small children into a slapdash bunker he had contracted using what was left of his family's riches. It was built in a big lump of granite, he thought. They'd be more than safe.
He didn't think about the wind and flooding.
A thousand-dollar door on a ten-cent hinge couldn't stand up to the storm, and the water simply came right in after it. They had to leave to avoid drowning. His mother, Amethyst, carried her two elder grandchildren sideways, shielding them from the wind and debris with her body. Kyanite was holding on to her for dear life; even if she was working to destroy the world, she had always shined in situations that left Ky in a shaking heap. His father and brother were behind them, carrying his twin baby daughters, with his highly enraged wife Greta staying between all of them and the storm.
Their neighbours, they knew, had all been helicoptered out, being rich and therefore of value to certain politicians. They knew that the house next door had a root cellar that was fully waterproof. Without speaking or signals, they all made a beeline for it.
Ky looked up, and suddenly, his mother, son and eldest daughter weren't there any more. Ripped from his fingers by a 150-knot-wind-powered Smord. He looked back. No one was walking any more. Dom and Tourmaline were simply clinging to one another and the babies. Greta had stopped being angry. Now, she was only terrified.
They all saw the wave. Ky did not.
*
The ground was so soft and comfortable that he didn't want to wake up. Only a lone raindrop falling on his face argued that he should. He wouldn't want to get wet. However, it was a risk he was willing to take to continue being so darn comfy.
It felt like only a split second later that he realized this ground was awfully mushy.
Assuming the worst, he hopped halfway into a crouch before realizing that it was just some dead swamp grass.
Swamp grass?
His ring had stayed on. Where was Greta?
Or, for that matter...
Where was he?
-
Damn you, EA of the Fucking Updates, for eating the old Crystals. But I might enjoy this...
And yes, his close shave is miraculously long-lived. He gets a February-3rd shadow, not a five-o'clock one.
Kyanite remembered hearing the report on the radio. He remembered bundling his aging parents, baby brother, pregnant wife and four small children into a slapdash bunker he had contracted using what was left of his family's riches. It was built in a big lump of granite, he thought. They'd be more than safe.
He didn't think about the wind and flooding.
A thousand-dollar door on a ten-cent hinge couldn't stand up to the storm, and the water simply came right in after it. They had to leave to avoid drowning. His mother, Amethyst, carried her two elder grandchildren sideways, shielding them from the wind and debris with her body. Kyanite was holding on to her for dear life; even if she was working to destroy the world, she had always shined in situations that left Ky in a shaking heap. His father and brother were behind them, carrying his twin baby daughters, with his highly enraged wife Greta staying between all of them and the storm.
Their neighbours, they knew, had all been helicoptered out, being rich and therefore of value to certain politicians. They knew that the house next door had a root cellar that was fully waterproof. Without speaking or signals, they all made a beeline for it.
Ky looked up, and suddenly, his mother, son and eldest daughter weren't there any more. Ripped from his fingers by a 150-knot-wind-powered Smord. He looked back. No one was walking any more. Dom and Tourmaline were simply clinging to one another and the babies. Greta had stopped being angry. Now, she was only terrified.
They all saw the wave. Ky did not.
*
The ground was so soft and comfortable that he didn't want to wake up. Only a lone raindrop falling on his face argued that he should. He wouldn't want to get wet. However, it was a risk he was willing to take to continue being so darn comfy.
It felt like only a split second later that he realized this ground was awfully mushy.
Assuming the worst, he hopped halfway into a crouch before realizing that it was just some dead swamp grass.
Swamp grass?
His ring had stayed on. Where was Greta?
Or, for that matter...
Where was he?
-
Damn you, EA of the Fucking Updates, for eating the old Crystals. But I might enjoy this...
And yes, his close shave is miraculously long-lived. He gets a February-3rd shadow, not a five-o'clock one.