April 26th, 2005

Lost in a place called America

(no subject)

Cassie replied first, so she wins. My main email is alexandriasisp (at) hotmail.com. I've had it since 8th grade and plan to keep it and still use it, but I want another respectable-sounding email since my school account won't last much longer. So Cassie, just email the code and story topic and you can claim your, uh, prize. That sounds oddly like those sweepstakes spams. Except the prize has no monetary value. Unless I sold it. But this is one of those flash fiction stories that will probably end up being equally bad and silly. Um... right.

But if you other people want stories, you can have them. Here's one for you, Cyndi:

Tori stood on the hill overlooking her strawberry patches, glaring at the horizon. The fairies buzzed around her excitedly, and she clenched her spear. "No giants are going to ruin my strawberry farm!" she sang. The hill, ice, and fire giants approached, ready to stomp out the fields of berries and ravage the hillside. Tori let out a battle cry and leapt from the hill, gliding in the wind to where the giants stood. She rammed her spear through the first giant's leg, and when he fell to the ground, she pounced on his chest and speared him through. Then another, and another. Soon all the giants lay in a huge pile of shishkagiants. Tori wiped her brow and sighed. Only one plant had been squashed, but it was already dead. The fairies healed her hit points, and she knelt and built a fire. She had a lot of work to do and a lot of giant to roast. The end.

Uh... if Tori Amos had never become famous (it rhymes!), she would be a giant-fighting strawberry farmer. I don't know why I thought of that... though the giant-fighting bit came from playing Age of Mythology for several hours.
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