Class Representative Flurry Heart looks at her hands and she feels like crying. She must be making too much noise, for she hears her name being called sternly. She looks front and center.
Principal Celestia has her hands on her hips. She looks upset. She asks Flurry Heart why she's so distracted. All of the other students are turned in their desks, looking at her.
Flurry Heart sniffles. She politely asks to be excused. But as her mouth opens up, battleships come out.
The red alert light is flashing. There are patches of flames and sparks erupting all across the bridge. Half of the crew are pulling burnt, bloodied officers away from their singed posts while the others are shouting at Flurry Heart, awaiting orders.
She runs her thumb gently across the arrow head. It cuts thinly, spilling blood down the string of her bow. She squints out painted eyelids, peering through the foliage at the orc encampment below. She tongues the air, measures the wind, and takes aim.
The car pulls out slowly from the back of the speakeasy, its polished surface reflecting cold lamplights. Flurry Heart waits for the thunderous roar of a passing L-Train before revving her engine and giving pursuit. While driving at a safe distance, she radios in police dispatch and tells HQ that the bootleggers are heading for the landfill across the tracks.
Sunburst regards her with a steely glare. He stands at the far end of the bank lobby, separated by a sea of hunched-over hostages. His fingers tickle the trigger of a semi-automatic. Flurry Heart doesn't flinch. Her shotgun is already trained on him. She's been waiting for this moment for a long time.
The sharks give no mercy. They drag Luster Dawn away from the capsized boat. Her screams are mere high-pitched chirps against a frothing sea of suffering. Soon, all Flurry Heart can see is blood-red brine, and scraps of her former student wafting up to the surface, like morsels in a hellish soup.
He gazes at her from across the table. There is no room amidst his wrinkles for a smile. She sits in silence, knowing she is just one of many creases—soon he will be lost among the folds. The flesh will unravel and dump his bones into the heartless permafrost. There won't be a marker. He doesn't deserve one. He gave mommy far less than what was possible—than what was promised. He gave mommy her.
Waves crash against the beach. Flurry Heart stands alone. She looks down at her foot. Again, she feels like crying. Her toe digs into wet pulp—at the very end of a spiraling line that forms the plush shape of a snail. The waves crash again. The snail vanishes. She's left looking at the lines in the beach. All wrinkles—no smile.
The dragon spits flames at her. She's crying as she charges in. The beast swipes at her, but she twirls about and—with a thrust of her forearm—plunges the sword into the monster's chest. The prince is saved. They throw confetti and streamers across the castle courtyard. The springs are worn out. A bed like a tombstone. She will never love her; she never loved him.
An enormous temple. An enormous machine. Glistening with light in darkness. She scales it. She fathoms it. The tears are dry now. All is bone, buried beneath permafrost. A derelict zeppelin. A valley full of dinosaurs. She moves towards it, every step half-a-long as the last. Always approaching. Never reaching. It was all he could give. She was all that could be given.
A submarine filled with pirate skeletons. A cloud of fairies with magic wands. She awaits atop the mountain with a sniper rifle. The starlight glistens off her gauntlets. Friends. Friends. The scent of candy corn. She trudges downhill. She climbs uphill. A griffon with a flame thrower. A gang of robots carrying boom boxes. Flurry Heart lowers the sail and