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·75 words·1 min
Flash Fiction Deadlines For Writers


Wilson gave a final twist to the silver orb, and with a heave chucked it over the embankment.

The sounds of grinding gears and stomping feet intensified.

“They’re still coming!”

“Patience. It has to calibrate to their new housing.”

An astringent cloud of ozone blasted over them, kicking up dirt. Peeking over the berm, they saw a phalanx of robots standing still, frozen in time.

“Quick, we need to tell the others. It worked!”