The Land of Floating Blocks

I used to think that jumping from one platform to another was something I liked doing in video games, because it gave you such a beautiful sensation of movement. There were also the colors and the collectibles, the sound effects and the animations. But to actually do that and get away with it in reality was something totally unexpected. The Land of the Floating Blocks was literally that: a huge continent divided into at least forty sections, each a jigsaw piece missing its brothers, and on each block was an animal who looked vaguely amused holding a flag out to the human adventurers and parkour enthusiasts. And I was one of them when I began, but by the end of the enormous number of jumps I pulled, a part of me became less human, in the sense that I stopped existing as a human being who loved movement and more as movement embodied with human body parts. The final platform saw me become an animal myself, and once I landed I picked up the flag and waited for another participant to finish the game once and for all. 

The Fall

There was a little spot of green, and I sat me down there. The minute I did, it gave away under me and I fell down and kept falling. I fell asleep, to be woken up from time to time by others falling with me, who would wake up too and needed to talk. We talked about the most inane of things. The rocks and edges sticking out looked inviting, but no one grabbed them, since no one was panicked. (It's a good thing they didn't, for their arms would have been ripped off). So we fell and then forgot all about the fact that we had started falling at some time and after several years down the line, we thought this is how we'd always been: we'd been born, inexplicably, falling, and we'd die falling too. Then, a few heretics went ahead and postulated that there was something called 'a surface' on which we would someday land. Theories and tirades and diatribes raged while the same bland rocks and edges passed us by. Now we have two factions: the Surface Huggers and the Free Fallers. At least it makes falling that much more intriguing. Every day they come up with a new angle to the problem. I've never revealed that it is perhaps only I who remember that little spot of green which had given away under me.