Suddenly a voice came searing through the sky, ripping the two of them from both time and space. CLAP. “Go to the place we never speak of!” he screams out in desperation. “Obviously!” He hears the faint whispers of the fading sentiment.

It wasn’t all that long ago, according to him, when the pair had met each other while walking aimlessly through a tuft of the most luscious green grass that happily capped off the rim of the now-dormant Mt Eden. They recognized each other immediately despite the object of his male affection now inhabiting a female body.

She sauntered over to him and smiled, “You’re right on time, as usual.” He smiles, “How’s that lady body?” She contemplates this for the first time, “Hmmm, haven’t really had to address it quite yet.” He shrugs. “Where the hell are we anyway?” “When?, don’t you mean?” she asks. “Ugh, dammit, yes. When the hell are we?”


via Writing Practitioners‘ 2019 Daily Prompt Pledge “DWP No. 14

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