Zombified Flash

It crept upon me, its icy-cold touch a vice on my soul. Light, it said. Give me light, it craved.

The creature’s desire was too strong, and its psychic hold tightening around my heart compelled me. I shall give it light, I thought.

But then I fought back. I cast Fireball. I was a goddamned wizard, after all. Even if the Fireball was more of a potion than a spell.

That evocation only spurred on the creature’s anger, so I brought forward the power of light, whispering the arcane words that summoned it from the ether as I twisted my fingers in sublimation.

And I fell, slipping from cool granite and into oblivion.

Okay, okay… 🙂

Cliché experiment done!

I attempted to change a lightbulb the other day by climbing atop the bathroom sink, slipped, and nearly killed myself, which would be extremely inconvenient for anyone waiting to see Freewoman’s completion.

A few shots of Fireball may have helped this. At least there wasn’t a concussion, just… ZOMBIE FOOT!

Do not fall from sinks.

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I studied and lived in Japan, got a Master's Degree in Sociology from the University of Oxford, and now I write SFF novels about cerebral people suffering post-modern angst who cope by drinking lots of wine. And magic.

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