Becky, Kristof and I recently helped with a kids book answering some questions on how to be writers. Becky randomly mentioned that “Your first project might be a fantasy short story that is three paragraphs long and takes place in the crust of a pie.” and It inspired me to do just that. This is the result.
The armies of the Low Lay marched toward the meeting of the layers. Here on the yellow flats worlds were built on one another, their surfaces each others skies. Each world below the other vying to rise up and overthrow those above. At a nexus these worlds met, and catacombing caves lead above and below. This is where the wars play out. Young soldiers, the salt and spices of the earth, die together, attacking those above and defending from hordes below in a never ending struggle.
“What do you think it’s like,” said Bridie, one of the aforementioned young soldiers currently being marched to her death. Her gaze was cast upwards to the yellow sky that acted as other men’s ground. It glowed with light penetrating down through the many layers. One spot had a conspicuous dark patch, the Upper Lay’s city. One day it’d be pillaged by the Low Lay, or so the propaganda went.
“Bright and crisp,” responded Burek, Bridie’s shieldmate. “My grandfather says it’s the brightest layer he’s ever seen. They say that the upper crust is a myth, but the pie must have a surface.”
“If that’s so, then the army we’re about to face can put all it’s strength into defending its lower tunnels.” responded Bridie, not letting the fear show.
“Then you best pray your swing is true, Sword-Sister.” smiled Burek.