carly part two: the streets

This story started here.

After a moment, their host said, "Oh, don't alarm the poor girl, just because she started to snore in that outrageous fashion. I'm sure she'll come up with a story in good time. Meanwhile, I'll continue my little tale.

"So, neither of you have heard anything about the streets? Well, you will soon enough. The story will be all over the area in the next day or two, but I'm sure most of what you hear will be hooey. So, let me finish telling you the real story now, so you can weed out what's true and what isn't when you start hearing the rumors. You know, there are times when you simply have to alter your very ideas of how the universe is put together. I–"

"Stop trying to flimflam us and just tell the story, you old fraud," the tall man snapped.

Their host made a grumbling, huffing sound. "I'm trying to make it sound more impressive. You, of course, are tone deaf to such nuances, but it's a common trick in a story-teller's bag." He harumphed again.

"To resume: The third night, I was sitting in Duffy's (which is a fine local drinking establishment, by the way). There was quite a diverse and eclectic group there assembled, and we were engaged in some fairly abstruse metaphysical speculations. It shows, by the way, what kinds of insight can be achieved when fine minds tuned to diverse areas of thought–" There was a strange, non-verbal comment from the tall man, and their host chuckled. "Wandering off the topic, I realize. Well, there are many hours until dawn."

"How long a story is this?" Carly asked. "And what did happen when you and Fifteen went out? I think that's where I dozed off."

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About Anthony Lee Collins

I write.
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