Once Upon a Time in Madoka
Madoka Kaname stood undaunted against the vast empty stretches of desert before her. She tipped her sombrero and chuckled. “Looks like I’m in a bit of a pickle here, aren’t I?” No-one was around to hear her, but she pretended she wasn’t alone anyway. “Guess I’ll have to get back home on my own, then!”
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To make it worthwhile to be reposting all these stories, I am going to start adding commentary for each chapter of each of these dumb Madoka stories in the comments section of each post. I’ll also go back and add commentary to the ones already posted, though all of this will probably take place sometime next week. Will this give invaluable insight into the human spirit and help aspiring writers with discovering the spark within them that will make them truly great? I can’t say for sure, but we have to try.
Warm, sand-laced wind cut through the air, scoring The Man’s unshaven face. The snaking dirt road stretched on toward the sheer orange walls of a mesa. A rickety, sun bleached wooden sign slowly approached on his right, the words “Casa de Blanca, 8 miles” scratched into its face. He continued on at a slightly more brisk pace in the direction that the sign pointed.
As he traveled the road began to curve, leading the Man toward the town, which was nestled in an alcove at the mesa’s base and hidden from the road until about a mile away. The term “town” was very loose in this instance, as Casa de Blanca consisted of little more than a handful buildings, most of them ramshackle wooden structures. The only building that stood out from the whithered piles of wood that dotted the village was a whitewashed adobe mission about twice as tall as the rest, built into the wall of the mesa. The Man’s gaze gravitated toward the towering fortress for a reason unbeknownst to him. He felt drawn to this… white house.
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