A whole world on a single page!
The short story morsels of One Page Worlds are flash fiction adventures of all flavors. Every Wednesday will feature a complete story in one page, or the first page of what could be a novel or novelette.
Sharing the fun and geekery is the best part of writing! Please tweet or comment with your guesses on what genre, character, and job is central to each tale. Enjoy touring new universes each week with One Page Worlds!
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“Did you surmise we all healed from wounds as a job perk so we could perform the next episode?”
I poked the animated crock doctor on the snout. “You’re ink and scales.”
“And you, Ms. Rinard, appear to be a police detective if that badge and uniform are to be believed.”
Faces of trained medical professionals on the ER floor all around us locked onto the blood—ink?—soaking through the crocodile’s lab coat. It dripped onto white tiles, yet slid along them without staining when the reptile swept a clawed foot toward me.
Spearmint drifted on its breath when it growled and said, “I have been shot by a hunter’s rifle and I seek care. Do not worry. Refusing care or filing suit are not on my mind. Especially in this state.” It gestured at the entrance wound like I could miss the freaking thing.
I cleared my throat and shoved brown hair out of my eye. “You just reminded me of those movies from the old days. Can someone start treatment while I ask a few questions of…”
“Doctor Tyrus Longfang. Please, do not make the joke. I never bit those construction workers.”
A male doctor with a shaved scalp approached Dr. Longfang and ushered him through a glass door and behind a curtain. I followed, standing near the door while the doctor gave his name—some one-syllable name—and asked how much pain the crocodile was in.
“Not much. My doctor did not draw me with nerves, but pain is pain no matter where you end up. Er, where is your pencil, doctor?”
The bald doc stopped retrieving bandages from a cabinet and stared at Dr. Longfang.
I used my move-this-freaking-conversation-along gesture. “You know, because he’s a cartoon. Animators must be doctors where he’s from.”
The bald doc flinched when the crocodile faced me and grinned. “And the detective emerges. I doubted your skills for the briefest moment.”
Beaming back, I drew out a notepad and a pencil, wiggling it and shrugging that no, I was not an animator. “We can get a cartoonist in here shortly. Can you describe your attacker?”