p dir="ltr"
style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:normal;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"Corey wasn't a volunteer bird. That would mean he was brave, and Corey was anything but brave. He wasn't a criminal bird. That would mean he was bad, and Corey definitely wasn't bad. Corey had been drafted, but he didn't really mind. Corey just wanted to seen those fabled pipes. The Pipes had been there since the Birds had been divided- A group called the Flappy Birds had started a revolution,
and the other Birds, now known as the Floppy Birds, erected the Pipes, to keep the Flappy Birds. At least, that was what Corey had learnt from the Flappy Birds. He wasn't sure if it was true. But the stories he'd heard of those pipes- those emerald pillars of mystical magic, that killed at the slightest touch. He'd heard that they changed positions everyday- they had slits small enough for one bird to go through, but each one was in a different part of the pipe,
and each day they would be somewhere different. Here, at the camps,
Corey would train everyday, until he became fit to go through the Pipes. Ever since the day the Pipes were made, the Flappy Birds had tried to get through. Corey was as ordinary as birds could get. He was a yellow bird, the first, and most abundant color of bird. There was also, red, orange, and blue, but those were less common. He was a small bird, with no distinctive features besides his curiosity. For ten months, Corey trained to become a Flappy Bird. Finally, he was deemed ready. At this point in the training, most of the volunteers realized how stupid this goal was- not a single bird had achieved the goal, and all had died trying. What would make them any better? But there was no turning back. So most of the birds flapped high in the sky, and let themselves fall to the ground and die, escaping the treacherous poison and death of the Pipes. Corey's flying day was upon him. He stepped onto the platform, and took off. He flew for about 10 minutes before the Pipes came into view. When he saw them,
he almost stopped flying. The Pipes were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen- the brightest green, so sleek and sophisticated. As he drew nearer, he thought about the suicide. He had seen what he had wanted to see, and he was content. He was nothing special, he knew he would die before the first ten Pipes, not even winning himself a honorary medal. So he flew high in the air, and dived down. Two seconds before he would've hit the ground, he decided against it.
He didn't want to never be remembered. Those who had died trying were still recognized- they were listed on the Wall of Flappy Birds,
even if they had died on the first Pipe. But those who suicided, they got no recognition. Their lives were lost, and never remembered. So he pulled up out of the dive, and started through the Pipes. He went through the first 12 Pipes with fear. Each Pipe was another struggle,
and they all scared him. But his success gave him confidence and he flew easily past 53 more Pipes. Corey knew that the monitor Flappy Birds were always watching him, and he could easily check on his progress. The Pipes were also broadcast in the training camps, and Channel 15, but they were never watched, unless someone broke the record. At the time, the record was 13,000, 892. That was Budge, a rare red bird, who did it 30 years ago. Since then, no one had surpassed 1,000. /span65 Pipes, and the Sun was already setting. Corey flew the rest of the night, and the morning, and kept going. Soon, everything became a blur. Yet Corey kept flying. After a while, Corey finally checked on his progress. He had gotten through 1,234,740 Pipes. He realized that everyone must have been watching him. That gave him a new burst of confidence, and he flew faster and stronger than ever before. Within the next few days, Corey had surpassed 13,000,892. In fact, Corey had gone through 132,891,923,546 Pipes. Back at the training camps, and in the rest of their lands,
all eyes were on him. Many people had seen the entire broadcast, as it had been recorded, and his dive had become famous. Corey trudged on through the Pipes. After 172,956,790,148,038,381,904 Pipes,
fatigue took over. Corey went slower, and his eyes began to fail him.
Corey died at the 184,683,658,329,943,218,433rd Pipe. Corey died happy, knowing that he would be remembered until the end of time.
Thousands of birds were inspired by Corey. The training camps got a flood of volunteers, and when Flappy Birds were about to reach the Pipes, they would fly high up, and dive down, and pull up again. THe dive was said to bring luck, as it had for Corey. Deep in the shadows of darkness, I cried. I cried not in mourning for Corey, but I cried in pity, for the living. A quintillion Pipes, and Corey never reached the end. He wasn't even close. Not even halfway. I knew, for I had made those Pipes, a feat I regret. Millions of lives had been taken because of my Pipes, more than would've died if the Battle of Birds had continued on. My Pipes were made to keep the Bird race safe. Both sides had found the Pipes, and spent the rest of Time trying to defeat their invincible enemy. I had given up so much power into making the Pipes, that I never even had the power to tear them down.
My futile efforts to both sides, telling them to stop trying to breach the pipes, only got me loneliness. I had the power to cross to both sides of the Birds, for I had my magic, but it would only suffice for me. My greatest pride, those beautiful Pipes, had turned into my greatest shame./p
style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:normal;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"Corey wasn't a volunteer bird. That would mean he was brave, and Corey was anything but brave. He wasn't a criminal bird. That would mean he was bad, and Corey definitely wasn't bad. Corey had been drafted, but he didn't really mind. Corey just wanted to seen those fabled pipes. The Pipes had been there since the Birds had been divided- A group called the Flappy Birds had started a revolution,
and the other Birds, now known as the Floppy Birds, erected the Pipes, to keep the Flappy Birds. At least, that was what Corey had learnt from the Flappy Birds. He wasn't sure if it was true. But the stories he'd heard of those pipes- those emerald pillars of mystical magic, that killed at the slightest touch. He'd heard that they changed positions everyday- they had slits small enough for one bird to go through, but each one was in a different part of the pipe,
and each day they would be somewhere different. Here, at the camps,
Corey would train everyday, until he became fit to go through the Pipes. Ever since the day the Pipes were made, the Flappy Birds had tried to get through. Corey was as ordinary as birds could get. He was a yellow bird, the first, and most abundant color of bird. There was also, red, orange, and blue, but those were less common. He was a small bird, with no distinctive features besides his curiosity. For ten months, Corey trained to become a Flappy Bird. Finally, he was deemed ready. At this point in the training, most of the volunteers realized how stupid this goal was- not a single bird had achieved the goal, and all had died trying. What would make them any better? But there was no turning back. So most of the birds flapped high in the sky, and let themselves fall to the ground and die, escaping the treacherous poison and death of the Pipes. Corey's flying day was upon him. He stepped onto the platform, and took off. He flew for about 10 minutes before the Pipes came into view. When he saw them,
he almost stopped flying. The Pipes were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen- the brightest green, so sleek and sophisticated. As he drew nearer, he thought about the suicide. He had seen what he had wanted to see, and he was content. He was nothing special, he knew he would die before the first ten Pipes, not even winning himself a honorary medal. So he flew high in the air, and dived down. Two seconds before he would've hit the ground, he decided against it.
He didn't want to never be remembered. Those who had died trying were still recognized- they were listed on the Wall of Flappy Birds,
even if they had died on the first Pipe. But those who suicided, they got no recognition. Their lives were lost, and never remembered. So he pulled up out of the dive, and started through the Pipes. He went through the first 12 Pipes with fear. Each Pipe was another struggle,
and they all scared him. But his success gave him confidence and he flew easily past 53 more Pipes. Corey knew that the monitor Flappy Birds were always watching him, and he could easily check on his progress. The Pipes were also broadcast in the training camps, and Channel 15, but they were never watched, unless someone broke the record. At the time, the record was 13,000, 892. That was Budge, a rare red bird, who did it 30 years ago. Since then, no one had surpassed 1,000. /span65 Pipes, and the Sun was already setting. Corey flew the rest of the night, and the morning, and kept going. Soon, everything became a blur. Yet Corey kept flying. After a while, Corey finally checked on his progress. He had gotten through 1,234,740 Pipes. He realized that everyone must have been watching him. That gave him a new burst of confidence, and he flew faster and stronger than ever before. Within the next few days, Corey had surpassed 13,000,892. In fact, Corey had gone through 132,891,923,546 Pipes. Back at the training camps, and in the rest of their lands,
all eyes were on him. Many people had seen the entire broadcast, as it had been recorded, and his dive had become famous. Corey trudged on through the Pipes. After 172,956,790,148,038,381,904 Pipes,
fatigue took over. Corey went slower, and his eyes began to fail him.
Corey died at the 184,683,658,329,943,218,433rd Pipe. Corey died happy, knowing that he would be remembered until the end of time.
Thousands of birds were inspired by Corey. The training camps got a flood of volunteers, and when Flappy Birds were about to reach the Pipes, they would fly high up, and dive down, and pull up again. THe dive was said to bring luck, as it had for Corey. Deep in the shadows of darkness, I cried. I cried not in mourning for Corey, but I cried in pity, for the living. A quintillion Pipes, and Corey never reached the end. He wasn't even close. Not even halfway. I knew, for I had made those Pipes, a feat I regret. Millions of lives had been taken because of my Pipes, more than would've died if the Battle of Birds had continued on. My Pipes were made to keep the Bird race safe. Both sides had found the Pipes, and spent the rest of Time trying to defeat their invincible enemy. I had given up so much power into making the Pipes, that I never even had the power to tear them down.
My futile efforts to both sides, telling them to stop trying to breach the pipes, only got me loneliness. I had the power to cross to both sides of the Birds, for I had my magic, but it would only suffice for me. My greatest pride, those beautiful Pipes, had turned into my greatest shame./p