Our Mario Is In Another Castle

I’m a little under the weather this week, but here’s an entry that might be kinda-sorta tangentially related to this week’s Flash! Friday challenge. This week’s challenge was to include a death, along with the photo prompt shown.

Typhoon Maid Thursday. CC photo by Shuji Moriwaki.

Growing up, the others called you a tomboy, but you never listened. Awash in the glow of the CRT, the outside world faded away. Miyamoto was your Moses, Sakaguchi your savior, Carmack your king. A universe was at your fingertips; an electronic world in need of a pixelated hero. Nothing else mattered. You fought past floods, storms, and mad scientists; you lived morality tales in stark black and white, splashed with 8-bit color.

Your parents fretted. Your teachers worried. They couldn’t see that your world was bigger, more intense. From the tragedy of every player death, to la petite mort of those brilliant victories, you took those virtual lessons to heart.

Growing up, the others called you a tomboy, geek, video game nerd. Now the jealous ones call you much worse, but your investors call you ambitious, cunning, and determined. The others say it’s lonely at the top. You tell them to shut up and enjoy the view.


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