There was a new story up at Masochuticon last week but it's not pretty - it's what happens when you try to write a story in the two hours before you rush to get on a plane. But the great thing about Masochuticon is that it does force you to get something done. We'll be returning to the theme of walking prisons though.
The legs look like tiny lines in the sky but they get fatter as they get closer to us down here and then they just dissolve into the leg fog, which looks whiteish like normal fog but it’s hard to push through. Slomo! they shout at you if you’re trying to push through the leg fog, so I always try to keep clear of it. Gram said that’s the speed you move at when you’re up in the walking prison, slow as if you had run out of battery.
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