Wall of Mental Proportions

An attempt to work through Writer's Block by writing about it!

The sounds of sirens and warning alarms cut through the room drowning out even the General.

A small woman with long wavy blond hair ran through the chaos of people shouting, frantically hitting buttons and trying to make phone calls. On her shoulder a metallic pink bar identified her as a lieutenant.

She had been trying to get the General's attention for a full five minutes from the door to the stairwell before braving the bedlam.

"General!" Finally reaching her target she snapped to attention.

The five metallic pink stars sparkled through the waves of long blond hair as the General briefly saluted the Lieutenant.

"Left-tenant! We sent that down to Extremity Operations this morning!" Her eyes grew wide with anger at seeing the dossier in the Lieutenant's hands.

"Sir yes we did sir! Formative Administration approved the layout, general concept and plot just last nig..."

"Cut to the chase Left-tenant! Can't you see we have a crisis on our hands?" She waved at the twin displays dominating the front half of the room.

A set of fingers lying dormant on a keyboard took up the bottom while a blank box surrounded by green filled the upper portion.

The Lieutentant trembled at the sight and, forgetting herself, exclaimed,

"Cripes! How long as it been like that!?!"

"Almost three weeks now, it's never been this bad before. Nothing is getting through. Those poor blokes are on their own; we calculated they ran out of stories only a few days in."

They both hung their heads and stood silent for a moment amid the commotion out of respect for their comrades.

"Major!" barked the General, breaking the spell. A woman with blond hair turned quickly to face the General.


"Proceed to Mirror Hall and form a team of our most creative and ingenious officers! Take the Left-tenant here down to Extremity Operations, and Major... guard that dossier she's carrying with your life. It must make it through the Wall."

If the Major felt any apprehension at accepting the task she had just been given it did not show. Her shoulders straightened, heels snapped together as she saluted the General before crisply turning away.

"Left-tenant," the General called as she turned to follow. "That dossier there is our last idea, we don't have enough Formative energy left to produce another."

The Lieutentant briefly saluted in acknowledgement and disappeared into the bedlam after the Major's retreating figure.

"God speed" whispered the General to no one in particular as she sank into her chair and watched the static images on the screen.

The End

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