Many thanks to Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr for their photo prompt, THE UNICORN CHALLENGE.  (04/04/2025). No more than 250 words in length.

“We clear to go?” The voice was hesitant, a little high-pitched with emotion. The Gatekeeper laid a firm hand on his bony shoulder and squeezed hard. A finger to her lips wouldn’t carry in the darkness. She didn’t want to risk touching his. God knew how many pocked asses he’d kissed to get to that high level of the OliOrg, before crashing and burning.

This one was different, though, with none of that acid rage that fueled so many of their ancillary members before they burned out into flat complacency. They were necessary, but had a short attention span. Never invited into the inner sanctum, they remained clueless to the interconnectedness of the understory of the Gatekeeper’s organization.

No, he was usually cucumber cool, which was how he’d passed all the previous screens. Something was off. She pressed a button on her remote: Track and execute if necessary.

Listening for quiet topside, she pictured the façade of an abandoned pensione, trussed up with surprisingly modern flying buttresses: a half-built set for a dystopian film, funding pulled by the OliOrg. They hadn’t liked the messaging.

The maintenance cover was heavy, but she was strong. He edged his way in to help. With a sardonic grin, she allowed it. Pale light flooded into the hole. He pushed past her, and touched the brim of his red cap in farewell, sliding the cover back in place. He was unaware of the scurry of one of their best, behind the graffitied metal wall.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2025)