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At the Last Minute


She entered the human mind at the last opportune moment. If she was a bit late – she would have to choose someone... less suitable. She'd been floating outside the host for too long not to be in danger of losing her essence. But she always chose. She hated the weak bodies of the poor, surviving in squalid conditions, threatened at every turn by malnutrition diseases, plague, and pervasive violence.

It was disgusting.

If nothing else, she'd risk frequent jumps.

But there was something about well-fed and well-off people that attracted her more than the certainty of a secure existence.


The peasant woman, who gave birth as if on a treadmill, trudging from morning till evening on the stony field, could not afford so much.

But the noblewoman...

She spent a thousand years in the bodies of women who made decisions about other bodies. She enjoyed it. Not long ago, she took over the mind of a lady in the south. Intrigues, poisons, the whole town trembled before her. Even before SHE entered it.

And they would tremble for a long time to come, at least in memory, even if she had to say a hasty goodbye to that body. She had traded it for the mind of a hired killer who had spent the last moments of his life in utter terror in the body of his victim. Then she had to get off the ground quickly, because even the minion didn't have much time, and She needed to rest for a while to make the next jump. An out-of-body existence was only possible for a short period of time, and without a perfect meld with the mind of the previous host, it would spell doom.

Now she would have to rest for at least a month. But why not – the energy of the last sacrifice had allowed her to choose from the crowd of consciousnesses one that was truly powerful.

The Queen.

Invading her thoughts she sucked them away like a mental vampire. Nestled in the subconscious.

She would be tired and grumpy for some time. Queens can do that. Shout someone down, destroy a few existences...

But why do I feel tired already? Why the sadness? And hopelessness? What's my name?

She searched the memories.

Anne Boleyn.

Nice name.


© 2007





"Things just happen. What the hell."
* Terry Pratchett. Hogfather


Welcome to my world. For the longest time I couldn’t think of right name for this place, so I left it without one. Amongst things you can find here are attempts of science fiction and fantasy stories, my collection of gods, bogeymen and monsters and also articles about things that had me interested, be it for a while or for years. (There is more of this, sadly not in English but in Czech, on www.fext.cz)



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