Original Length: 1042 words.
Post Revision Length: 1385 words.
Many people would lose their marbles in my situation, and who am I to bla them? But heres the critical difference between them and . They dismiss luck as superstition and would never act in a way or another because they thought this might actually be not a good idea for because of my lack of luck.
Instead, I am a staunch supporter of superstitious practices and luck. Why? Rationally, if luck doesnt exist, its not really a problem now, is it? But what if luck does exist? Well, better be prepared!
For once, I had almost thought I could have had sothing nice, that my mistress luck was about to remove its pointy heels from my battered chest. But it was just a fools dream. Cool, wholeso, bookish subway girl and ? Yeah, sure. Whats next? Miss Universe asking if I can be her booty call?
Co on.
And its not that my confidence is low because Im not good-looking. As I always explained to my mother, the only reason I got laid is that I sohow look good and can pull so shaless moves. How? Well, most human beings would be afraid of being so cheesy and idiotic. But when you really do it, won do get swept off their feet. Or they laugh at you. Lets say its pretty much fifty-fifty. Maybe forty-sixty, but Im digressing.
The most important thing, buddy, is to factor in the slap risk. Its a ten percent chance of getting a slap when you pull a move in the wrong context or, most likely, on the wrong woman. As there are crazy n, there is an equal number of crazy won out there. Better be prepared for anything because you never know what could co your way.
And I always had a higher slap risk than your average Joe precisely because of luck. So, even when I see a beautiful woman who could be interested in , I try to be careful.
Now, in fact, I simply apply my dating mindset to the current situation Im in. Yeah, yeah, I am in front of a perfectly arranged treasure hoard that could give Pixar animators a run for their money. So how does dating apply to this?
Well, this is the equivalent of Miss Universe giving a booty-call, isnt it? And you think I would fall for it? Think again, pal, because if I started touching sothing, a colossal dragon would pop up and roast right there. Maybe the dragon would first do so taphorically, and only after a good bout of insults, literally.
I notice that I am incredibly close to a very thick to that looks magical. Now, one could say that it doesnt really look magical, but that the word magical is actually on the cover.
Magical Theory The Omnium Compendium. Sound a bit pretentious, if I have to be honest.
And for a mont, I forget the most essential rule because this book is not just like Miss Universe, but its like a Miss Universe paired with a massive caboose on her. While I successfully ignored the rest of the riches around , sothing pulls toward that book, and an insane idea starts brewing in my mind. Its the idea that I could touch that to without consequences.
Its just too enticing. And so, taken by the magnetism of the book maybe because deep down everyone dreams to wake up with magical powers I turn the book to its first page.
At this point, do I really have to say what happened next? Like, is it even necessary? Co on, we all know it.
As Lady Luck usually wills it, a dinsional rift or simply a tear in the space-ti continuum of reality, you could say opens below my feet and the book. And it does what a massive crack in the fabric of the universe does: it swallows us both.
Well, I might as well die torn apart into billions and billions of atoms while my real essence turns to nothing more than universal mush. I just wish I could have t Selena Goz before dying and
I land on my ass, with the book on my knees.
Huh, thats sothing, I nod toward the book, giving the artifact my approval for not having turned into molecular dust.
I look around. It seems Im outside so sort of a dieval city with walls and a gate with a long queue. The walls look very neat and clean. Actually, those rocks look too clean for the current setting. Who lives there, so cleaning freaks?
I stare at the people in the queue while scratching my chin and squinting my eyes. Theres sothing that feels distinctly wrong, but I cant put my finger on it.
What is all this sun in my eyes, anyway?! What the hell?! Shouldnt these dinsional jumps bring sowhere dangerous in the middle of the night? I was expecting to be dumped in the land of the dead or sothing, with zombies, skeletons, and mad necromancers all around! I an, I can understand the creepy treasure hoard, but this?
Theres even a little bird that lands near and starts chirping.
Co on, Lady Luck, we both know where this is going. Whos this bird, huh? Is it going to transform into a giant monster and tear apart?
The little bird, what looks like a puffy blue sparrow, lands on top of the to and chirps cheerfully again, almost happy to see . That is, obviously, until the to disintegrates the poor creature with so obscure spell.
Blasted into oblivion.
Well, thats more like it, I pat the book, agreeing with it on the tone we should give to my lifes tale.
No chirping birds in my apocalyptic adventure, thank-you-very-much.
With the book under my armpit, I start making my way toward the gate. Not much I can do without a
HOLY SHIT.
HOLY SHIT.
OH NO.
OH NO. PLEASE. NONONONO.
THIS CANT BE HAPPENING.
I take a better look at the people queueing in front of , and I see what gave the feeling that sothing was out of place.
They are not humans.
Oh, okay, they are not humans.
They are the most vile and spiteful creatures a goddamn British writer ca up with!
They are Elves!
Oh. My. God, I make a U-turn and start walking away from those wretched things when, as a suspicious human in a city full of Elves, I get the shout.
I dont know if you have ever been stopped by the police while doing sothing untoward, like urinating in a public place, speeding a red light, or telling a woman that shes the spitting image of your mom.
HEY! YOU!
Those two words are pronounced with the sa distinct cadence in two different worlds, it seems. And I hear sprinting heavy steps right after.
Here we go. Whats worse than Elves, you might ask? Well, besides French people, only Elven Police, I guess.
Hello, gentlen, how may I help you? I greet them with a radiant smile, so big that the two tall and armored Elves almost recoil.
Ahem, one of them quickly tries to recompose himself. We are not used to humans coming here
They speak English, I realize after a second. The book cover, too, was in English, wasnt it? I an, if I read it, it must have been.
Oh, Im so sorry. If you could point to the nearest human city, I will be going imdiately.
The two look at like Im an idiot.
The nearest human city is probably on another continent or sothing like that, isnt it?
The nearest human city is on another continent, Human.
Isnt that lovely?
And we are at war with them, the other guard adds while resting a hand on the elaborate hilt of his sword.
Well, I hope that Elven prisons look good. As long as they dont force to eat a vegetarian diet or anything of the sort, Im good with doing so ti before I figure out the rest. But knowing my relationship with Lady Luck, I'm in for a hell of a lot of broccoli, arent I?
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