Floory Inanimate Insanity Novels & Stories

"That’s the part you can’t weave." The global network didn't snap, but it stuttered. Across the horizon, the white lines of light dimmed, the planet-wide hum dropping into an erratic, coughing static. The false Florence didn't dissolve. She stabilized her form, her face smoothing back into that terrifying, serene mask, but her eyes were no longer looking at the northern horizon. She turned her gaze slowly down toward her own chest, where a single, dark stain was beginning to spread through her liquid-silk coat.

“I said I am not insane.” Silence hit the hall instantly. The figures around me froze. Lyra stopped smiling. Alina stopped speaking. Even the Elders leaned back slightly. I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “You want to question my mind,” I said clearly, voice cutting through the hall like steel, “because I refuse to break under pressure. That is not insanity. That is survival.” No one interrupted me. I stepped forward once, forcing every eye to stay on me. “If there is a problem,” I continued firmly, “it is not my perception. It is your assumption that I am weak enough to be manipulated by it.”

He hesitated about what the men would do as their leader screamed bloody murder and fell to the floor. “You missed! You fucking shot my ear!” he was finally able to speak. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking Lombardos! You’re gonna pay for this! Tell your boss his days are numbered ... no one’s backing him now ... he got no allies ... that crippled son of a bitch thinks he’s going to take over the families? He’ll be dead sooner than he can walk!” he blabbered. One guy across the room pulled out a gun. Another shot was fired. The guy across the room fell to the ground with a bullet hole in his head.

They creaked despair even when nobody sat on them. Inside, the fluorescent hummed like old men bad dream. The white tiles were cracked in the lazy way tiles crack when nobody expects the flooring to make a good impression. A woman in a blue hairnet pushed a mop around without bending her back too much. She’d seen better messes; this didn’t scare her off.

Curly was in panic by seeing her niece this way. "No please! Let them go! You're hurting the Luna and the Prince! Let them go! Stop please?!!" Izzy shouted. Curly was scared. She thought that her niece had gone insane again, "Stop Izzy, you're scaring me" she said. She can't understand her niece again. She has heard about her madness. Could it be back again..? Tears filled Curly eyes. She thought Izzy was displaying madness. "It hurts Aunt! It hurts! Save them! Save them"

legs felt as if they were being pulverized with every step. On the 80th floor, the "Automated Security Drones" made their final stand. These weren't the "Elegant" sentries of the past; they were "Broken Assets" themselves, their casings rusted, their sensors flickering red with "System-Error" madness.

I'm such an idiot. The drive through Abuja is a blur of familiar sights and sounds. Street vendors, crowded markets, the smell of burning charcoal and spicy food drifting through the car windows. Luke doesn't try to make conversation, and I'm grateful for the silence. The hotel, when we finally arrive, takes my breath away. It's not just expensive – it's obscene. Marble everywhere, crystal chandeliers, staff in uniforms that probably cost more than most people make in a month. My room – no, suite – is on the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the entire city. The furniture looks like it belongs in a museum, and there's a bottle of champagne waiting on ice.

“Girl!” She grimaced while observing Flora. “Huh? Why are you in such a rush?" Flora grinned broadly. "Girl, we need to watch it!" she yelled, causing Rye to grimace. "What's going on with you? You appear to be possessed by demonic spirits," Rye jokingly remarked, shaking her head. “Duh!” Flora's eyes rolled. "Just come with me," she said as she dragged her out of the locker room, "we cannot miss his fight,” she continued to drag her.

block. His eyes were as misty asthe fog on north Manhattan on winter solstice and could not be deared no matter how many times the old man waved his hands. He felt like a victim of weed douse (thoroughly bathed in Indian hemp) "Fghdknkhasknskhds, adghfghdgqddqwdg." He muttered incoherently as he fought against insanity from the sheer information cum experience overload. "Hmm" the old man waved his hand and Tom found himself in

My body rocks back and forth as if I've got a limb, when the only thing that has snapped is my sanity. Walking bereft of shoes, laughing to lyself, rocking to my own tune, stopping and glancing over my shoulders before continuing on, singing to myself. Burn Burn Oh such lovely flames Orange and red, screams and wails. Maybe I'm a little out of touch with reality, maybe I'm crazy. But who says their not crazy?