“Oh, for the love of Holy Morhan, will you please stop thinking that there’s always something wrong?”
Jonas stuck his hands in his pockets, kicked a pebble, and lowered his head. “Something is wrong, though,” he muttered under his breath.
Pela rolled her eyes, sighed, and slapped her hands on her thighs. “You’re impossible. You know for once, just once, I’d like to hear something positive from you.”
They reached the edge of the forest at the top of the hill. Jonas stopped.
“Were your parents really cruel?” Pela asked and carried on walking on her own down the path. “Was it a hex one of the enchanters put on you, huh?”
“Did you pee on one as an infant?” Pela continued without paying attention to her surroundings.
“Pela?” Jonas insisted, still frozen in place.
“Did you accidentally fall into one of their cauldrons perhaps?”
“What?” She stopped and looked around her for Jonas. “What are you doing back there?”
Jonas jerked his chin at the hanging-upside-down citadel. “Is that wrong enough for you?”
“How does it feel to be a Methuselah, kid? Happy enough you ruined the last timeline? The Big Guy is pissed off. Actually, he’s fuming. He wants to talk to you. You know what this means. I’m sorry it came to this. You have until tomorrow.”
I figured I had a go with a funny prompt this Sunday. Not my usual style, but why not? I think it’s suitable for fantasy and humour writers alike. I hope it helps you create some nice stories.
“Ouch! Ow! You punched me in the nose! That hurts, you know.”
“What is the matter with you, human? I’m a friendly orc. Do you see me squashing your meaty parts ’til your eyes pop out? You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“Hey, I have feelings too, okay? Just ’cause I’m an orc, doesn’t mean your words don’t hurt me. Or my nose. Look how swollen it is now.”
Everyone around me panicked and ran and trampled each other to get out, go someplace safe. Fools. What difference would it make?
I noticed a woman at the other end of the bar eyeing me, calm as a meditating monk. I threaded my way to her. “Not running for your life?” I asked.
“Nope,” she replied.
“You know how.”
Could she be…? My surprise must have shown, ’cause she hid a chuckle behind a sip from her drink.
“Still,” I said, “the end of the world and all. This is my fifth end of the world and I’m still enjoying it.”
“Oh, you’re a child. How sweet.” Another sip of her drink. “I got bored after the twentieth. That was millions of years ago. These primates are no longer entertaining. However, this end comes too early. Your doing?”