382 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
“Such a nice FIELD you brought back yesterday,” Wordler 382 remarked to her immediate predecessor. “Mind if I lie down in it?”
“You have a quest to do,” 381 reminded her. “Also, the ghosts of old-timey baseball players are in the bottom of the third inning. There’s two outs, men on first and third, with the home team down 3-2—”
“Ah, right. The old-timey baseball players that only you can see and hear.”
“And Darth Vader. He’s the catcher. He keeps force-choking the umpire when the strike calls don’t go his way.”
“Do you think that cloud looks like a dragon?” 382 asked, pointing up.
381 shook his head. “I’ve never had enough of an imagination to see things in the clouds. I’ll be right back. Vader’s threatening the grounds crew with his lightsaber again.”
“The clouds look like spilt milk,” 382 told herself. “No, they look more like mayonnaise. Or cotton balls. Or—” And she smiled, because she’d found her Word.
Web3 Draft:
Revision Notes:
To be added.
