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When it all goes wrong again

Toes curled around the edge of the cliff. Seventy five feet and mere seconds until eternity. The wind howled, and outstretched arms caught the breeze. For a moment, the existence of gravity seemed questionable.

Nevertheless, they landed.

Suddenly Janie was standing among all of her, quite literally, fallen comrades. Among them stood a tall man in a dark cape. He seemed to have the most beautiful features and most repulsive features at once. Sometimes it looked as if he had no face at all, but that couldn't be right. Her delicate post-human mind couldn't quite grasp the ethereal qualities of the Angel of Death.

"Wow, now I've seen some interestin' cult deaths in my day, but good lord," he gestured to their mortal bodies behind them, "THIS is completely off the wall!" And in a whisper, "Or cliff, as it were."

Janie couldn't understand why he sounded Scottish. She always assumed he would have a boisterous, guttural, angry voice. I suppose the Scots can be angry at times, she mused.

"So right, some of you are goin' up, some down, some..." His voice trailed off when his eyes rested on her.

"You? You aren't supposed to be here." He scratched his head, and surprisingly, pulled out a mobile phone. His fingers tapped the keys.

Beep beep beep.

He held the phone to what one would assume was his ear, sighed, kicked some dirt around, then looked back at her, and sighed again. "Oh, hello, yes. We um, er.. we have a problem."


Miss Jessie Lynn

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