Sleepy Morning, pt. 3

I followed the owl’s trail across the mountain to the land of the Long Divide. As it flew, it spun its head around 360 degrees and looked at me from time to time from above. Sometimes it would vomit the skeletons of littler animals and leave them for me to find, like presents.

The little skeletons could be transformed into puppets if you grabbed the little pieces of ligament and cartilage the owl had wrapped around them. I’d amuse myself beside the campfire with little stage plays made of the little puppets.

Over the mountain’s ridge and into the outskirts of the city, I sometimes felt my feet falling asleep as I walked. I got the sensation I was being watched. I passed by two tiny huts, hidden under the hills by the sides of the road.

“We got em!” someone shouted. “Stay put you little fucker!

One of the villagers caught a ninja.


About vurinstitute

Horatio Somersault is the Director and Regent Chancellor of the VUR Institute, a think tank involving some as-yet-unknown and slightly spooky manipulations of time and interdimensionality. In his spare time Somersault enjoys writing poems and fables. You can read his writings, as well as those of other VUR inhabitants, at Though he lives a wanderer's life, his hometown is a domed biome inside the water core of the moon Europa. You can follow his experiences adapting to the customs of the early 21st century on his Twitter @VURdirector and can email him at vurinstitute at gmail dot com.
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