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Nanowrimo, Day 23: Where is the ploooooooot?

By the time they made it to the cabin, Chip's universe had narrowed to one splotchy stain under a pile of white and green - one which kept shifting closer and closer to the edge of the mattress, ready to jump for muddy freedom - and the feel of his hands and arms slowly turning into lead rods filled with concrete. He doubted he could let go of the mattress even if he wanted to, imagined his hands had turned into hooked claws sinking into the grimy foam, and he was almost sure he could not stand up straight anymore.

They turned around when they reached the cabin so that Chip could go up first. "I'll take most of the weight," explained Thomas. This sounded like a fantastic plan until Chip found himself bent almost double, trying to feel the next step before it hit him in the back of the leg.

Up at the top, he managed to give the door a few sound kicks before almost losing his balance. "Mattress coming in!" he shouted. "Open up before it kills me!"

38346 / 50000 words. 77% done!

* Junk Abe


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