Newest updated prompts – new bits for each bauble!
Talons scraped the rock, snow breaking away as the hands sought the long engraved sigils. Whisperings and hissings poured over the stones and soaked the air around this quiet place.
He paused, glancing in either direction before approaching the fence. No matter how quick I thought I was, dodging behind the wall at the corner, my heart skipped a beat and I knew his eyes met mine.
Each step made her toes more froze, and each step seemed to make her heart beat louder, and each step was another leap of faith. She didn’t see anyone, not even the person she was expecting to see, and she started to worry her heart would pound out of her chest.
“How did you steal the matches?”
“I traded for a box of cigarettes.”
“How did you get a box – actually, I don’t wanna know.”
“You really don’t. Let’s just get started.”
“You hear that?”
“We all hear that. How could we not hear that?”
“We should head home.”
“What, are you scared?”
“You know what that sound means, we should go.”
“It’s just a stupid legend.”
“Or maybe you’re just stupid. Let’s go.”
“Hang on… There. We can find the arrow tomorrow and see just how much of a legend it is.”
He could see her eyes flash momentarily, and the warmth fade in favor of cold logic. Her decision required logic without feeling, she finally realized, and he knew the logical outcome meant nothing good for himself. It was perhaps a selfish thought, and he considered it for only a full minute, but he allowed himself the vain hope that those emotions were still there, speaking in the guise of logic.
The sharp nails scratched the back of his hand as they shook on their deal. He shivered, giving away the subconscious fear of his partner, and the other hand tightened around his own. “Not to worry, you couldn’t have made a better deal.”
He slammed the paper down on the table, scratched his chin, and consider for a minute. A door closed downstairs. He struck a match and watched with sad eyes as the letter rolled and charred and disappeared into ash in front of him.
“Why are they all here?”
“Why shouldn’t they be?”
“But why not in the garden?”
“Perhaps they found a sweeter nectar on the walls.”
She slid into the statue’s arms as a joke, pretending to play the aged silent flute. It was a joke. She didn’t set out to cause any real damage or offense; and she certainly didn’t expect the flute-player himself to be offended.
“There’s something so dramatic about yellow roses.” He squatted beside the flower and took a quick picture. “A survivor, despite everything man might build on its ground.”
The back of the bottle had a small label with a nearly illegible scribbled date. “It’s just some white stuff.” She angled the bottle, up in front of the light, and, with a loud gasp, she nearly dropped it. “There’s… There’s something inside!”
Shallow breaths echoed in the silence; he wasn’t gasping anymore, or even struggling. Reality felt limp and unfocused, and he hardly registered the sound of footsteps before he was turned over, a blurry dark mass standing over him.
“We’re the ones staring at the ceiling, at the walls, out the windows, at anything that isn’t reminding us how crappy life can be, at anything that lets us freely think.”
“You’re kind of dark, aren’t you?”
“So, you don’t sleep?”
“I do. Sometimes. Eventually.”
“I’m glad we’re sharing a room.”
“I like the way your mind works.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Let’s be dreamers for a little longer.”
She shuffled deeper into the shadows, her bright blue eyes bouncing around, watching carefully for any movement. A nearby box fell with a thud. Her breath caught, her eyes flashed, and she shivered a little. A cat appeared around the side of the box and, with another flash, was reduced to a scorch mark on the tile floor.
It wasn’t just a flash of lightning, but something sustained. She pushed through a couple more bushes above the dunes, watching the light flicker over the water – and into a small boat. She laughed a loud “ha!” and hurried to turn on her camera before the light disappeared.
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