Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


February 12th 2018 in Microfiction

“Flexibility,” said the first apprentice aloud, moving into the practice area. “Symmetry,” said the second apprentice, coming through the golden gate to stand beside the other. “Power,” said the third apprentice, emerging from the temple to take his place in the triad. They stood in the training stance for almost 15 minutes before Brother Lu On Ping bustled into the arena. “The master has been injured; there will be no teaching today,” he said. “You are to work your forms independently and meditate until lunch.” The apprentices bowed. “Was he victorious in battle, Brother?” the first asked, his eyes low. “Are his injuries severe?” Brother Lu On Ping paused in his retreat from the quad and looked back over his shoulder. “The master … was … he was … adopting a new form and … kicked himself in the head with his foot, then overcorrected and punched himself in the face with his knee. He will recover; it is a mild concussion and a simple break.” Again, the apprentices bowed. “Flexibility,” said the first softly. “Symmetry,” said the second (just as softly). The third one burst out laughing and fell to the ground.

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