The Rift Between Worlds


An entry for Flash! Friday — Vol 2-18.

Hope and hooch only last so long. Snow stung our faces as Mount Hope stared down at us icily. The twilight was already fading.

“Don’t hang it up yet! There’s still time!”

The storytellers in Snowden tell of the old days of automobiles, aeroplanes, and pictures moving in black and white. They say that Man grew arrogant, and split the Atom.

Then the Mancers emerged from their secret places. Without even a hi-de-ho, they eliminated Science and sundered the World: no one could travel between Cities, except by Magic.

I thought it all bonkers, till Helen vanished on her sixteenth birthday. Mount Hope was our fleeting chance to rescue our daughter, but that rift was treacherous.

“Look!” A grassy clearing appeared ahead of us. Sunlight. Warmth. Apple trees. A young woman in a sundress — Helen! “Summerland!”

We hurried forward, but the vision quickly faded. When we got there, we found only a single golden apple, dusted with snow.

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