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Everyday Drabbles #289: Physical Therapy

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EDWinter2

“Come on, five more reps. You can do it!” The trainer said. Her client struggled, even though the dumbbells only weighed five pounds.
“I don’t get it,” he panted. “Why couldn’t you just give me super-strong arms when you did the brain transplant?”
The clients always asked this, even though they were thoroughly briefed before the procedure.”This isn’t just about muscle strength. Your brain needs to learn how to use your new body and build your new connections.”
“But it’s so difficult with these tiny arms!”
“You’re the one that wanted to become a T-Rex. Get pumping!”

Everyday Drabbles #288: Further Developments

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EDWinter2

In his darkroom, the photographer stared down at the portrait developing in front of him. It was… wrong.
That was definitely the young Widow Dagmar posed in somber black with the requested symbolic elements. The skull on her lap, and the scales beside her, were all as he had set them. But where had the moth come from?
It was so bright it seemed to glow, hovering above her left hand. He was sure wasn’t there when he took the picture.
He brushed one gloved hand against the glossy paper, and his fingers came back dusty with moth wing powder.

Everyday Drabbles #387: Homestead

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EDWinter2

She built her homestead in the high desert, under an abandoned satellite dish. She didn’t know what it had been for, probably some benevolent scientific venture that was forgotten as soon as everything went to hell. But the site was still in good shape, with plenty of building material, and she was miles from the nearest neighbor. It was perfect.
She wasn’t what you’d call a ‘people person,’ and society’s collapse hadn’t improved her outlook.
Which is why she was at a loss when the aliens landed and told her they’d received her signal, and wanted to open diplomatic relations.

Everyday Drabbles #286: The Samaritan

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EDWinter2

He dedicated his life to small acts of kindness.
A hundred dollars discreetly dropped into a struggling musician’s violin case in a busy subway station.
An extra pair of hands in a soup kitchen on the night of an unexpected, and particularly devastating blizzard.
A shout to call the attention of a distracted parent as their child wandered away in a crowded store.
He used the time machine to make small changes.
His instructors had said that even the least significant act in the past could change the future. He hoped they were right. He hoped it would be enough.

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Everyday Drabbles #285: The Gardener

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EDWinter2

She made gardens in secret places. She planted flowers in forgotten alleyways, and trellised Ivy in the hidden courtyards of long-abandoned buildings. She loved hidden worlds, and wanted them to be beautiful.
She found a solemnity in beauty destined to have no observer. A garden meant for no eyes was still as lovely. Perhaps it was lovelier, a rose growing only for its own sake.
She imagined the sudden rush of joy, someone coming to a desolate, lonely place, and finding a garden instead. The idea gave her comfort.
Plus, it was a great way to hide the bodies.

Everyday Drabbles #284: The Stag

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EDWinter2

The ruined abbey lay in the middle of the hunting grounds. Most of the hunters avoided it out of superstition, which made it the perfect place to lay in wait.
I watched the ivy-covered ruins until, late in the day, when a huge stag appeared in the wreck of an arched doorway. It stood there, a silhouette in the gloaming, as though it had never before seen man nor arrow.
I had the odd fancy that it had just received confession, and to take its life would be a sin. Then my stomach rumbled, and I took the shot.

Everyday Drabbles #283: Death Comes For the Wizard

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EDWinter2

When the wizard’s time was up, Death knew that he’d have to get creative.
Magic users had all kinds of cunning little ways to avoid their fated ends. Some used prophecy to avoid injury. Others pulled their lifeforces out and tucked them into safe places. Others made spectral weapons to fight him. He got them all, eventually.
Death opted for the direct approach, appearing in the wizard’s scrying glass while he was in the middle of a delicate alchemical procedure. He dropped the glass in surprise, immolating himself.
It was messier than Death liked, but a win was a win.

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