The Most Important Thing by Juliet Boyd

posted 24 Apr 2016, 06:24 by Juliet Boyd   [ updated 24 Apr 2016, 06:24 ]
Clod knew it was against the rules, but there was no way he was leaving home without the tools of his trade. He was an artist looking for inspiration. Even on another world that wasn’t going to change. It was so stupid of the authorities to say that personal objects could mark him out as different. They were only pencils. Anyway, he’d removed his clothes. He wasn’t an  idiot.

He pushed the pencils through the fabric of reality one at a time. They made a sharp popping sound, which was followed by a hiss of air. That didn’t worry him. His body would make a much bigger hole and it was against the rules of the universe for it not to close up again afterwards.

As Clod went through himself, the sensation on his body was like swimming through a sea of cling film. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t easy. When that was over, he began to claw at the dirt.

There were crowds of people waiting by the time he emerged – not all of them friendly, he could tell. They were like the toy soldiers he’d had as a kid. Not quite what he’d been expecting, but inspiration? You bet.

Small pellets fired at his skin as he leaned down to pick up the pencils. That was the least of his worries. All Clod could think was that he really should’ve brought his pencil sharpener with him, as well.

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Inspiration from this post by @memopipwrites on Instagram.