REAL TIME WRITTEN: Aug 25, 2022, around 7:14 PM

The last sci-fi facility ever forming concentric rings, that looks like the best bronze age circle city made from above, in the center a floating, rippling sphere of liquid, probably water, or life serum, containing purple and orange lights on the bottom and above. Glowing, but not too bright, illuminating itself and pulsing, humming, breathing, but not alive, but pleasant. Inside this ocean is the darkest room, with a candle standing on cultured wooden flooring from every culture. A person sits and watches the lit candle flame dance, despite the still air of the world. Inside the candle flame is a perfect grass field, with every blade of grass cheering in motion the sun and its rays, casting down from the bluest skies ever. Underneath the ground in this field is the most terrifying death maze from any dimension. In each victim’s throat lies a lump containing 7 to 9 universes, depending on age, to contrast with the 70 to 90 universes lying within the advancing minotaurs’ bulging muscles, bulges, tendons, lumps, sexy members, et cetera. Each universe corresponds with one element of mood, including but not limited to, sadness, anger, happiness, gloominess, chillness, openness, emptiness, blossoms, and robotics. I never considered minotaurs to be this emotionally complex. I’m so sorry to the minotaur boyfriend I had whom I never considered the feelings of. To be fair, he chopped my head off. Inside my head was a song that was written by a string itself, and that string was the pet of Antiochus of Ancient Greek Kingdom fame. Back then everything was seas, oceans, some land, some clouds, but especially the delectable water. Some days the super robots of the sexy system go down, befriend the minotaurs, get into fights because they are 90 emotions short to be on the same level of compassion as the bullmen, and then stop being friends. If I had it my way, I’d have all of those guys fight over me, I want that attention, and I want it now. We can’t have it that way though.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m very happy you said that to me, but that is not on the menu.” Sarah Dickherson stared blankly at the burger dame, as that had nothing to do with what she just said. “Oh sorry. I need to be somewhere” she lied, and walked out of the restaurant. There were birds flying in a crossbow shape in the sky, and there was nothing to remember outside. The city she was in was entirely composed of flat, otherwise smooth surfaces, but textured to have friction. That is, if the swift and smooth metal winds hadn’t completely eroded every surface to be perfectly smooth. There wasn’t a drop of air in the whole world that wasn’t metal in composure, but thankfully it was incredibly similar to regular air, breathable, livable, even enjoyable. Nobody enjoyed today because it was the regulated death smack day, where everybody has to go home and… get a death smack. Death was very common in the world, far more common than regular death. Death in this world was made of metal. Metal made from friends, friends made from chains, chains made from energies, ETC. The death smack would instantly death attack anyone affected by it. The easy thing about it is it’s just like dying, but anyone under the attack can come back at will, despite it being very painful. However, it had to be done. No government or overarching power had ordained this ritual, it was simply what everyone truly, heartfeltedly believed to be right, and that’s alright.

So Dr. Dickherson walked to her superhouse, which is just a normal house but sized up so she was the size of a doll. She liked it that way, and she lived lavishly. Dr. Dickherson was christened with her name Sarah as it represents the letters S, A, R, A again, and H. So the story of these letters goes as follows: S saved the world, A arrived after, R repeated the changes, and A altered them again. However, H had something really great to say, and that’s why her parents named her that, as they knew she had very great things to say. The issue is they didn’t realize nobody would want to listen. Her last name is Dickherson because millions of years ago, the village the Dickherson line lived in was constantly chided for having super gay sons that would, as adults and giving consent, would engage in various sexual actvities involving the human penis. Funnily enough, she had no brothers, so her siblings never engaged in sexual activities. Even if she did, she’d never know as all the family outside of the sons of the family would be dropped off in their village and they would go on vacation for the day. Every single day. Despite their family name, they had no clue of their sons proclivities. Sarah took her family name as advice, as she personally had a penis, and used it on many people, but she wants a robot and minotaur harem, so she never felt love while doing it.

Her superhouse was full of bugs due to its immense size. They never bothered her much though, besides blocking out all of the light from her large, large windows. She had no one to live with besides these insects, so she got used to them and enjoyed them. Every day when she isn’t telling fiction stories to people she likes to explore her superhouse and discover every secret it has, and she bought it and enjoyed it this way so that she would never find everything until the end of her life. She makes 1:1 scale maps of the floorplan of the house and lays them down on the floor. If other people knew her they’d say she’s better off using the paper to write down the things she says rather than say them, but she has no friends and she doesn’t know how to write. All of that would soon change when a man, made of clouds crashed through one of her windows. He was so small in comparison to the window that it didn’t shatter, but it did crack and splinter from the point at which he hit the window, and fell right through the relatively small hole he made. Falling all the way down, he displaced a few of her floorplans and laid there, possibly dead for hours. She didn’t find him until he woke up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Never seeing a cloud man before, she didn’t know if this was normal for them or if this was a unique personal trait.

This is the rough draft of this. I may or may not edit this or continue it. What is presented is just one version of this. I know it may not be the greatest piece of fiction, but my girlfriend likes it. I hope you appreciate it.