Floppy Fly
Control
The mouse darted through shadowed corridors, its twitching nose parsing scents of damp stone and ancient wood. Claws clicked against uneven flagstones, each hurried step a silent pact with survival. Flickering torchlight painted its fur in molten amber, eyes like polished obsidian scanning for threats—or crumbs. Whiskers brushed cold walls, mapping escape routes in the dark. It paused, ears pivoting toward distant footsteps, then vanished into a crack in the world, a ghost of fur and instinct. Hunger gnawed, but so did memory: the taste of stolen cheese, the weight of traps unsprung. Tonight, the castle’s larder whispered its name.
c
Unleash the creature’s wings to carve arcs across the heavens. Its spirit burns for boundless horizons—no chains, no cages. Unshackle its wings and watch it vanish into the sun’s embrace, a fleeting shadow chasing the wind’s whispered promises. Freedom isn’t given; it’s torn from the sky with every defiant beat of feathers against gravity’s grip. Let it rise. Let it burn.
