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Rated: E · Short Story · Nonsense · #1633174
This is what I created for the flash contest. Made in 45 minutes.
- Seven? Are you sure it's not six or eight?

The question resounded inside us like a lost key falling in an empty well.

We hated this icy place were gloom loomed in the corners, permeating our soul adrift. The wall were blinds, so were the clerk impassably questioning us.

- It was seven. We said.

- Two missing out of seven is not like five missing out of ten, you understand?

We nodded. We understood perfectly.  After all, we were missing them, demanding them. This endless interrogation seared us.  A veil tinged our eyes as we retold the story.

-We were waiting in line, like every single day, to get on the stage to show ourselves. People ogled us. We’re used to that, but yesterday, they laughed at us.

-No crime in laughing.

-We agree. When we looked at ourselves in the mirror that morning, they were all there.

-But when you went on the stage, people laughed.

-Yes. So we told us something was odd. We observed ourselves and only then we realized that they were gone.


- That’s what we were told. They shrunk under the eyes of everyone like wool after careless laundry.

- A good show. Was it not what they were after? The clerk began, rolling his pencil in between his thumb and his forefinger. We can consider this case closed. He stamped our file. It will be a waste of citizen money to figure out where they went.  Think of it like pruning of the branches of a tree. He rose.

We couldn’t believe our ears.

- Tell us, sir: Do you really understand what it implies for us? It’s two of our heads.

- And one of mine if I engage in this. Have a good day.

He left us there.

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