Once like you, a thirifty miser, keeping

  • Once like you, a thirifty miser, keeping folds at bay, now row by row, across the empty page, they march in couplets gray.
  • The fold hung there, suspended in cyber space, perfectly preserved. Waiting. Like a piece of mail wedged behind a file cabinet at the post office.
  • One day a new folder fishes the fold out with a ruler and adds to it, maybe wondering who MoralEnd even was, not realising it was alien abduction which put an end to his prolific
  • life of folding stories leading nowhere on the internet. Disguised as an anonymous user, MoralEnd, the alien, lures the child into playing a game of life or death, of writing.
  • "See this is how it works. I write stuff. You give me likes. You don't die!" MoralEnd cackled at the innocent faces. "But then how do WE win mister?" asked a brave chap. "WHAT?!?!"
  • MoralEnd glared at the newbie folder. "Win? You don't win!" The newbie folder started to cry. "Are you crying? There's no crying in FS. My Mom once purposely failed to like my
  • leftover 3-bean and tunafish cassarole, with a hint of shame. I couldn't tell her I didn't win the spelling bee. Antidisestablishmentarianism's hard to spell with a hangover and
  • no sleep. "Where's your Spelling Bee trophy? Are you hiding it from me?" My head pounded. "No ma, they just gave me this fruit leather instead," I lied. "For State?"
  • I had accidentally chewed on bee pollen so I spelled a word I had only seen once. Haflinger was the maker of my wool clogs. The pollinators were placed in the corners of my
  • armpits where they began to whir their wings. In no time at all I was flying high over the city, laughing at how much they tickled. Later they dropped me in the river. I survived.


  1. lucielucie Mar 04 2017 @ 03:04

    I hope the aliens release MoralEnd soon.

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