{"id":3097,"date":"2019-02-03T08:00:54","date_gmt":"2019-02-03T07:00:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nmn.si\/?p=3097"},"modified":"2019-02-03T08:00:54","modified_gmt":"2019-02-03T07:00:54","slug":"best-stories-2018","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/staraspletka.nmn.si\/en\/best-stories-2018\/","title":{"rendered":"Best stories 2018"},"content":{"rendered":"[vc_row type=”in_container” full_screen_row_position=”middle” scene_position=”center” text_color=”dark” text_align=”left” overlay_strength=”0.3″][vc_column column_padding=”no-extra-padding” column_padding_position=”all” background_color_opacity=”1″ background_hover_color_opacity=”1″ column_shadow=”none” width=”1\/1″ tablet_text_alignment=”default” phone_text_alignment=”default” column_border_width=”none” column_border_style=”solid”][vc_column_text]At this year’s NMN literary competition, the jury has been choosing the best among several short stories in Slovene and English.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Below you will find the three best stories that we have also presented in the NMN 2018 publication<\/a>.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

1st place Barbara Quill Venecija - The Kicker<\/span>

\n

No one can kick better than a horse. Well, some creatures do, I suppose … The heavier the being, the bigger the force behind the kick. And I’m not heavy for a horse – light bones and all, so my wings can hold me up.<\/p>\n

But while you\u2019re fighting the Protector of the Balance, no one can kick you better than me; me being Her mount, I’m always around. I have to be. Shape-shifting seems like a tiring work, and She has to be smart at it, having only two shapes a day to choose from. So, someone has to carry Her far and wide – and that someone is me.<\/p>\n

Pegasus they call me, or Peggy for short. But only She can call me that, anyone else makes it sound like a mock! A girl’s name they say, and I’m not a girl. A stallion is what I am! Well, a petite stallion, but what can one expect – I have to spend a big portion of my time in the sky.
\nSo, Pegasus, alright? After the old myth, see. Except that Pegasus probably wasn’t real. I mean, point me a horse that doesn’t panic at the sight of a three headed beast. Ha, you can’t!
\nNow, me, I stick close to the five foot tall, teenage, seemingly-human girl – the Protector. The last gift of the gods. Which is horseshit, because they created us at the same time. But She fights while I run and sometimes kick in panic, so I suppose fair is fair. But this probably isn’t a good time for my chitter chatter. I’m loud – or so they say – but I know when to shut up and act.<\/p>\n

I kicked the screaming fool in the side as he was facing Her, and reared up. My front hoof planted on some bastard’s face in the process. I let Her mount me, only spreading my glorious white wings when I was sure She had a tight hold on my mane. No reins for me, none needed as we communicated with more than words, almost telepathically connected with years of mutual cooperation.<\/p>\n

“Let’s kick those wyvern-riders\u2019 asses!”
\n“Wait, what?” I started as my body took to air. She meant some other wyvern-riders, right? Not the five that were actually riding wyverns above us right now. Wyverns that have a nasty tendency of having fifty foot to their wing-span, deadly claws both on their feet and on the tips of their wing-bones, and a habit of spitting poisonous acid in your face.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t hesitate, though, because She screamed in the face of a very premature victory. And that usually draws attention. Thankfully, wyverns were of the cliff and not cave kind – bad at hearing, unfortunately great at seeing. But their riders were good at both. I could see some of them leaning from their saddles to look at what was happening in the camp below. And just like that, our cover was blown.<\/p>\n

Time to go.
\nI flapped to create wind under my feathers and took off towards one of them, planning to dodge under, preventing others to chase me and risk collision, or spit and risk burning one of their flight. I would be up and away like a fly on a horse.My other half of the duo had some other ideas. She pulled on my mane – and yes, I followed the move on my own free will; I might have had my escape plans, but if She wants to go head-first into danger, I’m the one who makes sure She gets there safely. I rose up, coming close from underneath.<\/p>\n

When we passed the rider, I made sure to deliver a hearty kick, knocking him out. He remained strapped to the saddle, but his limp body couldn’t do much damage, and the wyvern was left to its own less-intelligent devices. Its head turned towards us, but the reins attached to the saddle kept it on a short leash.<\/p>\n

Escape was just up ahead and we had plenty of head-start, but of course the Protector had Her blood pumping with thrilling adrenaline, and safety was never Her top priority. She slid from me as my hoof made contact and fell past the unconscious rider, rolling on the leather skin, falling on towards Her death. I neighed in panic and made to turn. She caught herself on the back end of the wyvern just below. The first wyvern felt the touch and turned its head downward, opening its head-flaps and spat the stream of burning acid after Her. She was a bug on its comrade, though, and the second animal turned, getting its side full of mucus that hastily ate at it. Its rider screamed, and the animal screeched, but She remained quiet and ran towards the end of the tail. She dropped, grabbing it with something more than hands as
\nthe beast buckled, its tail swishing.<\/p>\n

She released on the upper arch and I made to catch her, only to be used as an additional spring as she jumped towards the next nearest enemy, changing.<\/p>\n

I barely righted myself before the air flow of the two colliding wyverns could tackle me from the air. Two down, three to go. The Protector’s shenanigans weren’t new to me and I searched for Her in the empty air with no purchase, hoping She changed into a being that possessed something akin to wings.<\/p>\n

No such luck. Her body that of a small mountain lion – all lean muscle, strained to keep Her limbs open, presenting a wide frame to catch Herself on her target. All claws and teeth. At least Her trajectory was on point.<\/p>\n

Her touchdown was on the back of the third creature, tackling its rider. The collision snapped the safety straps. I didn’t see what She caught herself on, but She didn’t fall with the rider, which was what mattered to me. The beast took no extra time rolling upside-down. She hung from it, clung to the empty saddle, looking irritated. Not afraid, never afraid at the large and savage. That part belonged to me.<\/p>\n

I flew to Her, keeping enough distance to barely feel safe. Checking if I was faster than the acid-spitting son of a lizard before I flew closer.
\n“Need help ..-?” Getting out of here? She was already answering.
\n“Yeah, get it to fly towards the other two!”
\nNot what I meant! That was totally NOT what I meant!
\n“Can’t we just leave?” I asked desperately, but the creature next to me turned again, carrying Her away.<\/p>\n

I saw it twist in the air, and had to dive to gain speed, lifting again once I was fast enough to escape it. Growls and hissing followed me as the beast searched for what was supposed to be there, ignorant of the large cat clutching at its saddle.I neighed rather loudly to – curse me – gain its attention. It worked. Perhaps not the sound, but definitely the flailing of the white spot not more than one bite away.<\/p>\n

I could hear my own heart thumping as one eye zeroed in on me, the snake-pupil widening at the sight. I didn’t wait, but got my ass out of there. And it followed. I screamed then in truth, my eyesight blurry from panic, my legs pushing forward like they would if I ran. As soon as I saw the two approaching me from the other side, I screamed louder and dived to get away,
\nthe sound trailing behind me. My throat ran dry, I felt my nose blister.<\/p>\n

As I turned my head to the side to look up, I saw three titans colliding. A cat jumped from one to the other. A wild kind of laugher echoing after the roars paused. Acid dripped around, not just as saliva, but as red-green blood. I could smell the stench, and I rose above the commotion to get out of the way. She opened someone’s front with Her claws and the man hung there, dead while clutching his own intestines. Then, as a human girl, punched the last one in his face; Her small fist making contact with the eye. It knocked him back, but still he reached for the dagger at his side, ready to hurt.<\/p>\n

I crashed into him full force. She had enough sense to grab at me as I passed Her and then we fell. It was a long fall. Full of feathers and limbs, and chaotic roaring chasing us. But this was not my first rodeo. With a bit of effort and straining of muscles, I sailed close to the ground, than soared not four feet above it.<\/p>\n

The Protector safely on my back, clutching and hugging my neck. Needing protection from the
\nconsequences of Her spontaneous decisions. And I was there to catch Her as she fell and take her home, like always. Because here\u2019s the kicker: even The Protector needs a protector.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

2nd place Aljo\u0161a Toplak - Bobova izbira <\/span>

\n

Zvezdni in\u017eenir Simon Super je na svojih potovanjih po galaksiji do\u017eivel \u017ee marsikaj, nikoli pa si ni predstavljal, da bo sre\u010dal samega sebe:
\n\u00bbUstreli ga!\u00ab je ukazal starej\u0161i Simon.
\nMlaj\u0161i Simon se je namrgodil. \u00bbNe bi to ubilo tudi tebe?\u00ab
\nStarej\u0161i Simon je odkimal. \u00bbNe verjamem v tak\u0161ne paradokse. V naravi se vse \u017ee nekako uredi.\u00ab
\n\u00bbSi pripravljen tvegati?\u00ab
\n\u00bbSeveda.\u00ab Starej\u0161i Simon se je obrnil k svojemu pomaga\u010du. \u00bbDaj, ustreli ga!\u00ab
\n\u00bbNe! Ne poslu\u0161aj ga, Bobo!\u00ab je zaklical mlaj\u0161i Simon. \u00bbNikomur ni treba umreti! Prosim, ni \u0161e prepozno!\u00ab
\nBobo je gledal zdaj enega, zdaj drugega. Nezaupljivo je opletal s konico svoje pi\u0161tole in histeri\u010dno skakal na mestu. \u00bbPrekleto, ne morem se odlo\u010diti!\u00ab
\nStarej\u0161i Simon je u\u017ealjeno dvignil obrvi. \u00bbNe more\u0161 se odlo\u010diti?\u00ab
\n\u00bb\u010ce ubijem njega, ubijem tudi vas, gospod!\u00ab je rekel Bobo.
\n\u00bbBedarija!\u00ab je vzkliknil Starej\u0161i. \u00bbVesolje ne deluje na tak na\u010din.\u00ab
\n\u00bbAmpak gospod \u2026\u00ab je jecljal Bobo. \u00bbUstrelil ga bom in potem se bova vrnila v prihodnost in potem bo vse druga\u010de \u2026 Kaj, \u010de se po spletu okoli\u0161\u010din tudi jaz ne bom rodil, ker boste vi umrli tako mladi in bo to na svetu povzro\u010dilo kup drugih stvari? Kaj, \u010de to prekli\u010de vso najino delo? Da ne govorimo o tem, da ga sploh no\u010dem ubiti.\u00ab
\nStarej\u0161i je zavzdihnil. \u00bbBobo, stori kot ti re\u010dem. Nimava veliko \u010dasa.\u00ab
\nV daljavi se je pribli\u017eevalo sonce in lu\u010dke na armaturni plo\u0161\u010di v pilotski kabini vesoljskega plovila so svarilno utripale. Velik rde\u010dkast gumb je zahteval potrditev, da se preostanek goriva porabi za preboj zvezdine gravitacije in pobeg.
\nMlaj\u0161i se je ozrl po utripajo\u010dih lu\u010dkah. \u00bbAh, prekleto. Kdo bo zdaj potisnil Sonce na pravo mesto?\u00ab
\n\u00bbKomu mar za Sonce?\u00ab Starej\u0161i je odmahnil. \u00bb\u010cez petnajst let ga bodo tako ali tako sesuli in tukaj postavili svetlobno cesto.\u00ab
\n\u00bbKaj? Sesuli bodo sonce?\u00ab je vpra\u0161al Mlaj\u0161i.
\n\u00bbKako si nedol\u017een. Sploh se ti ne sanja o idiotizmu \u010dez-zvezdne federacije. Opravlja\u0161 Sizifovo delo, bedak.\u00ab
\n\u00bbKaj pa, \u010de ga vzameva zraven?\u00ab je vpra\u0161al Bobo.
\nStarej\u0161i se je namrgodil. \u00bbSe heca\u0161?\u00ab
\n\u00bbJe ideja tako sme\u0161na?\u00ab
\n\u00bbBoji\u0161 se, da bi poru\u0161il ravnovesje \u010dasa, zdaj pa bi ga vla\u010dil v prihodnost? Sploh ne veva, kaj se zgodi, \u010de bi to kdo poskusil. In \u0161e huje, ne mislim prena\u0161ati dvojnika, ko se vrneva domov.\u00ab
\nBobo je povesil ramena.
\n\u00bbTorej,\u00ab je rekel Mlaj\u0161i in se prijel za glavo. \u00bb\u010ce pravilno razumem, vodi tista \u010drvina,\u00ab Pokazal je na temno mesto zraven sonca. \u00bbTrideset let v prihodnost? In vidva potrebujeta moje plovilo, ker je vajinemu zmanjkalo goriva? In \u010drvina se bo vsak \u010das zaprla?\u00ab
\n\u00bbSem bil v preteklosti tako neumen?\u00ab je Starej\u0161i vpra\u0161al Bobota. \u00bbKaj drugega pa bi bilo?\u00ab
\n\u00bbKaj pa,\u00ab se je vme\u0161al Bobo in posko\u010dil od vznemirjenja. \u00bb\u010ce ga vr\u017eeva v najino plovilo, preden mu odvzameva njegovo?\u00ab
\n\u00bbObdan sem z bedaki.\u00ab Starej\u0161i si je pogladil obrvi. \u00bbIn kaj to\u010dno bo storil, brez goriva? Najbolje, da ga kar ubijeva. Sprejmi, da gredo stvari v\u010dasih narobe in je treba takrat po\u010distiti za sabo.\u00ab
\n\u00bb\u02ddPo\u010distiti za sabo\u02dd?\u00ab Mlaj\u0161i je vpra\u0161ljivo pogledal Bobota. \u00bbSem to res jaz?\u00ab
\nNa armaturni plo\u0161\u010di se je pri\u017egal alarm za nevarnost.
\n\u00bbBobo,\u00ab je rekel Starej\u0161i. \u00bbZmanjkuje nama \u010dasa. Ustreli ga.\u00ab
\nObotavljal se je.
\n\u00bbDaj \u017ee! Ne preostane nama drugega. On ali midva.\u00ab
\nRoke Mlaj\u0161ega so se za\u010dele tresti. \u00bbMar res ni druge mo\u017enosti? Kaj pa, \u010de vaju odpeljem do bli\u017enje postaje in\u2013\u00bb
\n\u00bbPustimo, da se \u010drvina zapre?\u00ab je vpra\u0161al Starej\u0161i. Ukazovalno je pogledal svojega pomaga\u010da. \u00bbBobo.\u00ab
\n\u00bbAli pa potujem z vama v\u2013\u00ab
\n\u00bbNe.\u00ab
\n\u00bbPrav!\u00ab je zaklical Mlaj\u0161i. \u00bbPustita me na vajino ladjo! Bom se \u017ee zna\u0161el! Nekako \u2026 Prosim, dajta mi mo\u017enost.\u00ab
\nStarej\u0161i se je grenko nasmehnil. \u00bbOdneslo te bo v Sonce. Zgorel bo\u0161. Uslugo ti delava.\u00ab
\n\u00bbNe, po\u010dakajta!\u00ab Mlaj\u0161i se je spustil na kolena. \u00bbZna\u0161el se bom. Bobo, prosim. Naj si nadenem vesoljsko obleko, pahnita me ven iz ladje, samo ubiti me ne! Zna\u0161el se bom.\u00ab
\n\u00bb\u017divljenja se oklepa\u0161 kot klop.\u00ab Starej\u0161i se je namrgodil. \u00bbLahko ti kar povem, da ti \u017eivljenje ne bo prineslo drugega od razo\u010daranja, de\u010dko. \u010cemu potem vztrajati?\u00ab
\n\u00bbProsim.\u00ab Mlaj\u0161i je moledoval s solznimi o\u010dmi. \u00bbProsim, ne ubijta me! Glejta me, \u0161e diham! \u017divim! Prosim \u2026 Prosim, to \u0161e lahko re\u0161imo.\u00ab Tiho je za\u0161epetal: \u00bbNe vem, kaj naj \u0161e re\u010dem, da bi vaju prepri\u010dal \u2026\u00ab
\nStarej\u0161i je skomignil. \u00bbMarsikaj je dihalo, pa je imelo to nesre\u010do, da mi je stalo na poti. Kaj \u010de\u0161.\u00ab \u0160e zadnji\u010d je strogo pogledal pomaga\u010da. \u00bbBobo, daj.\u00ab
\nMlaj\u0161i je gledal svojo ostarelo podobo odprtih ust. Bobo je opazoval, kako sta se strah in \u017ealost na njegovemu obrazu prelevila v jezo, nato pa je zavladal zgolj \u0161e hladen izraz razo\u010daranja. \u00bbPrekleto.\u00ab Mlaj\u0161i je zmajal z glavo. \u00bbPrav. \u010ce si ti to, kar postanem, niti no\u010dem \u017eiveti.\u00ab Pogledal je Bobota. \u00bbDaj.\u00ab
\n\u00bbDaj \u017ee!\u00ab je zaklical Starej\u0161i.
\n\u00bbPrav.\u00ab Ko je Bobo ustrelil, je prostor preplavil zaslepljujo\u010d blisk svetlobe. Simonovo truplo se je zvrnilo po tleh.
\nBobo je pogledal mlaj\u0161o razli\u010dico Simona Super. Zmeraj si predstavljal, da je bil Simon zmeraj tak\u0161en, kot je bil. Vzkipljiv egoist, prepri\u010dan da v \u0161ir\u0161i sliki ni ni\u010desar, kar bi imelo pravega smisla. Da ni\u010d ne \u0161teje, razen njega in njegovih na\u010drtov. Da je vse dovoljeno. Da je morala su\u017eenjstvo mo\u010dnih, ki se pokorijo \u0161ibkim.
\nZdaj pa je stala pred njim, mlada nedol\u017ena podoba, ki je v Bobovih o\u010deh obetala veliko ve\u010d od tega zagrenjenega starca.
\n\u00bbUbil si ga \u2026 Svojega \u2026 Gospodarja.\u00ab je rekel Simon.
\n\u00bbZa\u017eeni motorje.\u00ab je rekel Bobo in za\u017eugal s ustjem pi\u0161tole.
\n\u00bbO,\u00ab Simon se je obotavljajo\u010de pribli\u017eal krmilu. \u00bbZapeljem naravnost v \u010drvino, \u010de prav razumem?\u00ab
\nBobo je odkimal. \u00bbNe \u017eeliva v tiste \u010dase, verjemi mi. Ne tak\u0161ne, kot so zdaj.\u00ab Odlo\u017eil je pi\u0161tolo in se postavil ob krmilo. Dotaknil se je Simonovega ramena. \u00bbRaje potisniva Sonce na pravo mesto, partner.\u00ab<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

3rd place Aleksandra Markovi\u0107 - Survival is more important than the truth<\/span>

\n

It all started with a need that demanded to be met.
\nAtlas stood in the middle of the room, looking at the scene before him. A book lay on the table, surrounded by LED lights of various colours, all pointing at it. The rest of the room was dark, and the only sound was the constant ticking of the clock, counting down the seconds. The curtains were drawn, the doors were closed, and everything was in order, just as it should be. Closing his eyes for a moment, Atlas took a deep breath.
\n\u201cAlright,\u201d he said out loud. \u201cTime to face the truth.\u201d
\nThe truth was, Atlas needed Francis.
\nFrancis wasn\u2019t Francis\u2019 real name. He said his name was too complicated to be pronounced by any Terran, because Terrans lacked a distinctive set of organs that Atlas somehow deduced were most similar to a mix between a trachea and a tongue, however that worked. Francis said he chose to name himself, because he stumbled upon a writer with that name that he really liked when he did his Terran Literature Studies. Atlas decided not to question him further on the matter.
\nThe fact was, Atlas really needed Francis. You see, Atlas was a Warlock. Warlocks dealt in Magic. Magic was, by its definition, illogical. This was a problem for Atlas, because he was also a highly logical being. Structure was his preferred method of dealing with any and every thing that crossed his path. Magic, however, rarely had any structure, which made it quite a difficult concept for Atlas to grasp and even more difficult for him to control.
\nFrancis, on the other hand, was Atlas\u2019 complete opposite. He was imposing, and tall, loud and boisterous when he wanted to be, and he almost always did. He was openly affectionate, kind, nice and completely, illogically, intrinsically happy. He was, and Atlas finally forced himself to say it, at least in his own head, the embodiment of Magic. And being as he was, he was just what Atlas needed.
\nAtlas suddenly remembered a conversation he had with Francis once. Actually, more like a snippet of the conversation on a summer morning when he was very drunk and his brain-to-mouth filter was almost non-existent. Francis was, for all intents and purposes, unaffected, and was \u201cproviding moral support in Atlas\u2019 endeavor to drink a whole bar by himself\u201d.
\n\u201cI\u2019m a fraud, Francis,\u201d Atlas remembered saying. \u201cI\u2019m a creature of Logic, and yet at the same time, I\u2019m a bloody Warlock. I should not exist.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d Francis\u2019 face was devoid of any decipherable expression, but his eyes tried to convey some sort of emotion that Atlas was, sadly, too drunk to understand.
\n\u201cBecause,\u201d he said, talking a generous swig of his gin and maybe tonic, \u201cMagic is the opposite of Logic. Magic and Logic shouldn\u2019t mix. There isn\u2019t any Logic in Magic Francis, in fact, Magic is what happens when all Logic fails.\u201d
\nFrancis didn\u2019t say anything for a long time, and Atlas almost forgot they were having a conversation. Then Francis\u2019 voice broke through the alcohol haze, and Atlas couldn\u2019t say why, but something in his tone suggested what he was about to say was important, so he really tried to concentrate on Francis\u2019 words.
\n\u201cYou know, I think your basic premise is wrong. You see Magic as something illogical, as if it is a peculiarity in your world. And perhaps it is, but the fact is, it exists. You should adjust your premise \u2013 everything that is is logical in itself, because of the very fact it exists. So Magic, by the favor of its existence, is logical. What would be illogical is to discard it because it is an anomaly \u2013 what you are doing is equating Logic with Commonness \u2013 is that a word? It feels like a word, but anyways,\u201d and here he turned towards Atlas, and his violet eyes were almost glowing in their intensity, \u201cyou believe only things that are common are logical, because their patterns emerge in higher quantities, and are therefore easier to prove. Anomalies are illogical. But they aren\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat do you mean, they aren\u2019t?\u201d Atlas asked, through his foggy brain. \u201cOf course they are. That is why they are called anomalies, because they differ from the norm.\u201d
\n\u201cAh,\u201d and here Atlas remembered feeling more stupid than he ever did in his life, just by the power of that one word, that was really more of a sound than an actual word. \u201cBut isn\u2019t it logical, my dear Atlas, that every pattern should have a deviation, to show us multiple perspectives of looking at the same thing? Shouldn\u2019t there always be an exception, so that we may prove the rule? There isn\u2019t any excitement in the constant repetition \u2013 even the most beautiful, uniform pattern gets boring after some time.\u201d
\n\u201cBut,\u201d he found himself defending his way of thinking passionately, even though he was unsure whether or not he was right. \u201cBut\u2026 that\u2019s the way world works. You find something that works, and you do it like that. There\u2019s no need to change things if they already work! There is no need to try a different thing, if the status quo works and everyone\u2019s happy. Deviation from the pattern only causes loss of control and chaos and unhappiness!\u201d
\nFrancis\u2019 eyes closed for a moment, his double lids trembling. Atlas always associated any trembling of any appendages with anger, but Francis never reacted the way others did. He found himself feeling inadequate all of a sudden, like this was a defining moment of some sorts. Unfortunately, he wasn\u2019t really adept at reading normal social cues, and he was even less adept in reading Francis. So he kept quiet and tried to will away the phantom pressure building up inside him. Gastric reflux, he told himself. It was just the alcohol.
\nThen, Francis opened his eyes. His expression was completely blank and Atlas, instead of feeling relieved, suddenly felt as if he\u2019d made a cardinal mistake.
\n\u201cI believe you have imbibed quite enough of the ethanol supplement this morning. You should\u2026 you should probably go to sleep.\u201d
\nThe words were said neutrally, but Atlas knew that something he said made Francis shut down and he knew something was wrong, but he couldn\u2019t, for the life of him, figure out what it was. So he just nodded and went to get up from his chair. And here his memory got fuzzy. He may have fainted, but it didn\u2019t matter. What mattered was Francis.
\nThe memory of the conversation left him feeling even worse than he did before. He could brush it off, but he knew the way his mind worked. If his brain chose that memory to revisit, then Atlas better listen to it and think of it, because there was something there that was important, or he wouldn\u2019t have remembered it.
\nThe truth was, Francis was gone.
\nHe wasn\u2019t dead. No, Atlas was sure of that. He wasn\u2019t dead, because there was no form appearing from thin air that declared his demise, there was no paperwork for Atlas to sign, there was no wailing on the streets nor a visit from vaguely menacing shadow-figures from Francis\u2019 home planet. And wasn\u2019t that a relief. When they visited the first time, because Francis neglected to inform them of a change in his permanent residency, Atlas had a panic attack that lasted for a better part of an hour.
\nFrancis wasn\u2019t dead. He wasn\u2019t. But he was gone, and Atlas thought he could do this on his own, and by this, he meant living, but the fact was, he couldn\u2019t. He needed Francis to be able to function properly, and wasn\u2019t that a strange thing? He lived his first seventy years without Francis and he was fine, but now, now the thought of living another day without him, much less another ninety, was unbearable.
\nTherefore, he needed to get Francis back.
\nAtlas opened his eyes. His mind was finally clear. He took another, shallow breath, and steeled himself.
\nSlowly, he opened the book.<\/p>\n<\/div>[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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