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As usual, I haven't planned ahead whatsoever. I'm going to give last-year's members a week or so to contribute, and if they don't, I'll boot 'em. Also, Henry will posting prompts the first week while I'm out of town in Chicago.
If you have any ideas for prompts, please post them in the comments here. It's always fun to incorporate those.
The challenge begins tomorrow, and Henry and I will do our best to post the prompts early enough in the day to give people plenty of time to write.
Let the writing begin!
PROMPT #1: You are the boss of writer's block. Write a memo telling writer's block that it is fired.
PROMPT #2: Take the last line of a poem, story, or book that you love and use it as the first line of your scene.
PROMPT #3: List five things that annoy you. Then pick one and write a short scene from the perspective of someone who loves that annoying thing.
PROMPT #4: You are waiting for a bus. A public phone starts ringing and you answer it. Write down your conversation.
PROMPT #5: A drunk man sits down next to you, decides you're his buddy, and starts confessing "the truth." Write about what "the truth" is.
PROMPT #6: Write about someone who is hiding.
PROMPT #7: This is one of Fool's suggested prompts from last year, and it is simply "the worst childhood memory." Interpret as you will.
PROMPT #8: Describe a memorable event, positive or negative, and how it felt to you, but do not name the feeling. Instead, tell how it felt in your body (damp hands, metallic taste, tight throat, wobbly knees, etc.).
PROMPT #9: A character arrives at work to find her chair missing. What happened to it?
PROMPT #10: Start your scene with this line: "Her laugh broke the silence."
PROMPT #11: Write a scene about two people who disagree, but must find common ground to solve a problem.
PROMPT #12: It is a rainy morning. Imagine the smells, colors, the feeling of the air. At the periphery of vision, surrounded by fog, something emerges. Watch what happens, and write your scene.
PROMPT #13: Your protagonist is inexplicably terrified of something. What are they afraid of and how are they confronting it?
PROMPT #14: Write a scene set somewhere you're unlikely to ever go.
PROMPT #15: Write a personal ad for someone you would never want to date.
PROMPT #16: A small spaceship flies in through your window and lands next to your computer. Describe your reaction. What do you do next?
PROMPT #17: Write about something you are uncertain about.
PROMPT #18: Write about two people who hate each other and are trapped in a small space together.
PROMPT #19: Use the first line of a nursery rhyme to start your scene.
PROMPT #20: Take on the role of your editor or agent. Write the most devastating rejection letter you can imagine.
PROMPT #21: Write a scene in which someone is trying to find something or someone that is lost.
PROMPT #22: Another prompt from Fool: "first against the wall when the revolution comes."
PROMPT #23: Write a scene in which someone finds out or has just found out that a child is on the way.
PROMPT #24: Write about something ugly—e.g., war, fear, hate, cruelty—but find the beauty (silver lining) in it.
PROMPT #25: There are three children sitting on a log near a stream. One of them looks up at the sky and says…
PROMPT #26: Write about your early memories of faith, religion, or spirituality; yours or someone else’s.
PROMPT #27: Incorporate the following three elements into your scene: a campfire, a scream, and a small lie that gets bigger and bigger.
PROMPT #28: Your character's boss invites him/her and his/her spouse to dinner. Your character wants to make a good impression, but her husband has a tendency to drink too much and say exactly what's on his mind...
PROMPT #29: Write a scene in which a very strange gift is received.
PROMPT #30: Write about something you are proud of.
Ur-brother 17 and ur-brother 23 plodded through the wet tunnel, ignoring the pooling water sloshing around their ragged boots. Deep inside the Blackwood mine, their dark-sighted eyes searched for the perimeter they weren't allowed to cross. They traveled shoulder to shoulder, spanning the width of the rounded corridor, until suddenly the path turned to their right and they stopped. Glowing white in their vision were the crude X marks of their boundary, chiseled into the stone and filled with a phosphorous powder that resisted the constant dripping of groundwater and slime. They could go no further. Doing so would endanger the somberium they so desperately desired.
Since Ur-brother 37 was not there to meet them, they waited, staring into the continuing darkness. Ur-brother 17, after a while, asked, "How long should we wait?"
The other dwarf sighed. Was there was no end to 17's questions? Yet, there was some truth to the query, and 23's answer rumbled around his throat before he spoke. "The child should have been able to retrieve the ore by now." He glanced at 17. "We must look."
As one, they bowed their heads briefly to the darkness about them, and then ur-brother 23 pressed the palm of his left hand on the left-hand wall while ur-brother 17 pressed the palm of his right hand on the right hand wall. With their other hands balled into tight fists, they touched knuckles against knuckles, and the energy generated between them melted into the stone and bonded with the earth, their Mother and Progenitor.
The spirits of the ur-brothers flowed as one through the veins of granite and dirt and a thin line of marble that pointed in the direction of the somberium. But there was no sign of ur-brother 37, not a single vibration of sound or movement, or pockets of fleshly warmth. At the extent of their senses, the earth became abruptly uneven, sending their feathery senses tumbling and curving through the rocks like drunken moths. They had come too close to the somberium, and its natural energies blinded them.
Then their senses snapped back suddenly to where they stood under the dripping ceiling. Ur-brother 37 stood before them, having just tapped both of them on the shoulder. "The child is stuck," the dwarf said. His voice resonated weakly in the tunnel, and the ur-brothers gazed at him with wide eyes.
Ur-brother 23 shifted his feet slightly. "We did not sense your travels. How did you come to be here? And you are late."
The late-comer nodded thoughtfully. "Apologies, I thought perhaps the human would return from the shaft. And we are too near the raw somberium, it is affecting your minds." The ur-brothers exchanged shrugging glances while 37 continued, "I must return to the surface for a fresh digger. Stay here," he stressed, "in case the child finds his way free."
"Grüs," said Ur-brother 37 as he squeezed past them, acknowledging the breaking apart of their meeting -- as with stones, as with the ur-dwarfs. The sound of his sloshing feet faded up the tunnel, the path back to the outer corridors and the elevator back to the surface.
The pair remained where they stood, at the perimeter of the somberium's influence. Once again, they connected with the rough-hewn wall to monitor the earth around them, listening for ur-brother 37's movement, but still there was there is no sign of his movement. They could sense all the grains of rock and dirt around them as if they held the bits of earth in their hands, but somehow the somberium ore seemed to block them from following their brother.
Frustrated, they stretched their senses in the other direction, back toward the somberium. At the very fringe of their power, just as 17 and 23 thought they detected the heartbeat vibration of another brother, the nearby ore swamped their strained senses, breaking their telluric connection, and they felt sick.
- Current Mood:
discontent
- Current Mood:productive
The mayor spoke briefly with the receptionist and then, as the reporters exited to the parking lot, turned and greeted Donaldson as if she had not yet seen him. "David Donaldson, you're a few minutes early but that's okay, I'm happy to see you." She shook his hand. She had a very firm grip. "Are you ready to tour the schools?"
"I am." He straightened his tie that was pocked out from behind his beard. His blue suit was the most formal clothing he had ever wore. It wasn't so bad. He patted his jacket pockets. The one on his right was still bulky with Glacial's transmission ship. To cover his actions, he buttoned his jacket under the tip of his beard.
"The past year has been very difficult," she said as they walked out the front door of the offices. "The entire school board and all the teacher resigned unexpectedly, blaming themselves for the student's poor performance, but fortunately we had already been considering moving the school system to a private infrastructure, like a business." As they walked through the parking lot, Amy was joined by a young male who handed her some notes to sign on a clipboard. He continued walking with them, one step back, as they approached a black, shiny SUV with a waiting driver.
Donaldson's girth consumed much of the back space but there was still enough room for Stewart to slid in beside him. Her assistant sat with the driver in the front, busily texting. Donaldson watched the driver pull slowly out of the parking space and make for the exit into busy morning traffic. He turned back to the mayor. "All your schools are private now? How are the grades?"
She grinned broadly. "Perfect. Every one of them. It's a like a breath of fresh air. I think you'll enjoy this teaching staff. Oh, would you like a bottle of water? It's delicious." She handed him a small plastic bottle that had no label. When he have it an appraising glance, she added, "A local refinery I've been investing in, still hasn't settled on a name. I think it should be called 'Water from the End of the Rainbow.' Try it, I think you'll agree with me!"
If the giddiness in her voice wasn't enough to put him off, he was already under strict instructions from Glacial not to eat or drink anything until he returned to his office. And if he didn't remember, there was a small spaceship in his pocket that would remind him with a small electrical shock.
He accepted the bottled water with a smile. "I'm okay for now but I'll save it for later, how's that sound?" He slipped the bottle into the pocket with the spaceship.
For a brief moment, Stewart's face lost the bright excitement of a school girl, until she changed the subject to how the schools were going to spend Donaldson's grant money. He nodded attentively, playing the game so early in the morning.
- Current Mood:working
Surprised, he looked with more effort at the space around him. The tunnel was low and thin, with just enough clearance to let him pass. The walls and ceiling were less polished, and the path beneath his feet, hidden in the pooling of water, was uneven and blocked here and there by stones too large to move without the concentrated effort that had not yet been applied to this section of the mine.
"Fear not, human," said a Dwarvonian behind him. The echoing resonance of the miner's sonorous voice seemed to sooth the rising panic in Biscuit's chest. "Here not so much has been done. The presense of the ore is too strong. Only one of my kind can be in this area at a time. If I lose you, return to find another guide, understand?"
Biscuit swallowed the uneasy worry of being alone in the tunnel. "I understand," he heard himself say. Trying not to consider how the Dwarvonian would lose him, he turned his mumbling thoughts to other things, and remembered finding the big black stone of waving blue and purple light.
The big stone of somberium. That's why he was there. Even through the drugged haze obscuring this thoughts, the history of the Dwarvonians was difficult to forget. The dwarves that first hit on the vein of somberium discovered that even in trace amounts the unprocessed ore dulled the minds of humans and elves, and lowered to zero their resistance to suggestion. Recognizing its dark potential, the dwarves outlawed it from being brought to the surface.
A small group of miners, however, decided it was their ticket to a life beyond the digging, and used it against an entire village in a fashion that the elves refused to record. Calling themselves the Dwarvonians, the true race of dwarves, they refused to work for anyone but themselves, and the kidnapping of Santa Claus was to be their ultimate statement of independence.
But Dwarvonian ambitions were limited. The few pieces of somberium they had were brought out by their less-greedy souls, a fact that was pieced together only later. Elves investigating the ore found that somborium was sensitive to the nature of the person removing it from its home in the earth, and ruined is ruined if not first plucked from the earth by the spiritually pure. The Dwarvonian's covetous nature toward gems and minerals neuters the magic. So they lost their rebellion.
But now they were starting it anew. The stone Biscuit delivered to them from the first tunnel was enough to influence an untold number of souls. No wonder there were no letters to Santa. The town was in the grip of the somberium.
Biscuit shivered. He realized the medicinal smell in the air was the somberium gas. There was nothing he could do to fight against their suggestions. He stubbed his toe on an unknown rock at the same time he wondered how he managed to get out of the first tunnel in disguise form. He must have turned the necklace back on out of perseverance.
"Keep going," the Dwarvonian said behind him, and he did. He didn't realize he had stopped at the moment of pain.
He mulled over the situation for as long as he could, but soon the somberium wrestled his thoughts back to a numb concentration on moving forward, which he did until the he was told to stop.
The Dwarvonian pointed to a small hole in the wall. "Here is the entrance to another vein of stones for you to retrieve."
Biscuit looked at the hole. It was about the same dimensions as the end of the previous tunnel where he pulled the somberium free. There was no way he was going to fit into this new tunnel as a human. He looked at the dwarvonian, who shied away from the bright light on Biscuit's forehead. "I can't fit in there," he said, dully.
The Dwarvonian made a humming noise. "You were able to travel through the other tunnel without complaining, now do it again or suffer the consequences." He shifted his pick where it was hooked on his belt.
Biscuit could not stop his hand from reaching up toward his neck. Turning off his diguise was paramount to death itself, as the Dwarvonian's hated enemy, but he could not refuse the miner's direct order. He felt his fingers digging past the collar of his shirt and heard the slight click as he pinched the link in the magical chain.
The Dwarvonian gasped as the disguise fell away and Biscuit stood as himself in the muck and the wet of the tunnel. Without pausing, the miner ripped the pick from his belt and swung with rage at the elf, but he swung wide and Biscuit fell backward against the wall and into the pooled water. But when the miner stepped toward him for a second swing, which would surely land, the necklace buzzed to life and Biscuit felt himself transforming into a secondary form: a wolf.
The miner stopped where he stood. The light that had been secured around Biscuit's head slipped into the water but there was still enough illumination to see the shock in his eyes.
The wolf form bared its teeth and low, menacing growl rolled out of Biscuit's throat. It was as if he had no control of himself, and the same lack of control allowed him to remember programming the defensive state himself. The wolf leaped at the Dwarvonian, aiming to bite his neck, and the miner dodged but in the confined space, there was no where to go. His head smacked into one of the protruding stones and he collapsed to the muddy ground.
Biscuit stood four legged over the unconscious Dwarvonian, struggling to keep himself from ripping into the miner's flesh until, just as quickly as it had appeared, the wolf form faded, leaving the elf sitting on the Dwarvonian's chest, conveniently the only dry place in the tunnel.
Biscuit tapped the necklace. "This is Biscuit, is there anyone out there listening?" Silence. He was too far down below the earth. "Hello?" he tried again, but there was no one.
He looked at the Dwarvonian underneath him and wondered what he was going to do next. How far would he get before the other Dwarvonians caught him? Even as a wolf he would only be able to get so far. He let the water dripping through the ceiling to fall on his face, cooling his mood.
"Necklace," he said, touching the device around his neck and pulling back the collar of his shirt. "Display the virtual programming panel, track for manual input on my command. Go."
A yellow-green light emitted from the necklace drew a square panel on the tunnel's darkness in front of him, and a keyboard shimmered in the air at his fingertips. Taking a deep breath, Biscuit began programming a new disguise.
- Current Mood:determined
Prompt text: Your protagonist is inexplicably terrified of something. What are they afraid of and how are they confronting it?
"How do you like your iPad?"
The question startled me, and I raised my finger from the screen far earlier than I intended. On the display the yellow bird flipped impotently to the ground in front of the sling shot. I scrunched my mouth up into a bit of a grimace before hitting the reset button and looking up to see who my interrogator was.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mess up your game," the server said shyly.
She stood maybe 5'6". Her hair was short and brown , maybe coming to a stop just below her chin if it were down. Today she had it up in a ponytail, revealing a star tattooed on her neck just below her left ear. The star was composed of blue lines, the interior fill a bright yellow. A small silver stud was in her left earlobe.
"No, that's ok," I said. The reassurance made her smile, broadly with a hint of very white teeth below a button nose. She had almond colored eyes that looked almost comically large, what I sometimes thought of as anime eyes. She had the demeanor that compelled you to smile at her no matter what your mood was before she spoke.
I had crushed on her for the better part of a year since I started coming to the pub. And I had not had the courage to say more than the words "Hello" and "Goodbye" to her on any occasion.
I suddenly realized that I had just been staring at her and she just smiling back. My brain worked overtime to try and string together something intelligible in English. "Yeah, uh...." I felt a blush starting on the back on my neck and it rapidly spread until I felt like my whole face was aflame. "I've had this one only a few months, but I've had one since they first came out."
"You must be a big techie," she replied. "I see you in here all the time with your laptop writing." She had her order pad in her right hand, and she set it down as gestured with the left towards me. I sat confused for a moment before realizing she was asking to hold the tablet. I handed it over to her, and just sat looking at her. My right cheek felt like it was starting to spasm and I found myself reaching up to tout my face, trying to make the twitching stop and finding nothing moving.
She took the tablet and laughed a bit as she saw what was on the screen. "I love this game, I have it on my phone." She touched the screen and I heard the sound effect indicating she was lining up a shot. Her finger raised from the display and the iPad uttered a muffled yelp as another Angry Bird flew to its eventual target.
The speakers gave back audio feedback that she had successfully hit something, but her mouth scrunched up in a fashion similar to how mine was when she first spoke. She handed the tablet back to me, still beaming that overpowering smile. I tried to return it and felt the corners of my mouth slowly rise, as though my face were made of molded plastic trying to change shape. The more I tried to smile, the worse it felt and I eventually gave up trying.
I was uncertain or unaware of what kind of face I was making, but it seemed to be a negative one as her smile faded and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. She grabbed her order pad, and started to turn away. "Well, sorry to bother you..."
In the back of my head a voice angrily yelled Don't let her go, you jackass!
"No!" I said, almost to forcefully. She turned back towards me, looking slightly confused. I tried to smile again, and it must have looked more real, as she returned it tenfold. I tried to think of something to say.
"I'm sorry, it's just..." Panic threatened to start rising again when a chirp from the game caught my attention. "I just am having a really hard time with this level. I can't quite figure out how to clear this screen."
Her posture relaxed and she cocked one hand on her hip. "I know what you mean! I find I'm playing some of these screens for hours trying to get three stars on it." That she enjoyed the game so openly made me feel safer, and I could feel my body, which had been locked rigid since I became aware of her presence, started to relax slightly. Something in my head clicked, and suddenly the words just started rolling out of my mouth."
"Yeah I love the iPad because it's not as bulky as my old laptop but since I went to a slimmer computer, I find I split my time more evenly between the two," I told her. "It's just not entirely comfortable for me typing on the screen in the same way it is on a full keyboard."
"Huh," she said, looking at the tablet again as it sat on the table between us. I reached down and closed the game out, bringing up the notepad to a blank page and turning it back towards her. She put her pad down again and reached forwards with both hands. She looked studiously at the keyboard, almost as though she thought there might be some trick to getting it just right. She began to type, almost immediately going to the backspace key and making corrections constantly.
I laughed. "Yeah, you're doing just what I did when I first got it," I told her. Without looking up at me she laughed, but her focus on the screen intensified. Almost imperceptibly, her typing quickened and there were fewer efforts to correct anything. "You do adjust quicker than I do," I admitted.
I didn't think it was possible, but her smile broadened even more, lips parting and teeth showing in a victorious grin. After another minute, she hit the home key and then turned the tablet back towards me. "I've been thinking about getting one, but I'm not sure I want to take the plunge," she said. She was now studying the tablet, and I could see something going on behind her eyes.
My phone buzzed on the tabletop, and I picked it up the check the message. Work was calling me in to help with a project. As I started texting a response, I asked, "Can I get my check? I'm having to leave earlier than I expected."
"Oh, ok," she replied. My imagination swore I heard disappointment in her voice. She turned and headed back to the bar to get my check. I sent my response and as she returned, handed my credit card to her without even looking at the check. "I'll be right back," she said, pivoting quickly back to the bar. I moved to put my iPad away in my bag, thinking that I hadn't made a fool of myself but still feeling like I should say or do something.
"Thank you for coming by," she said as she put the check and card down in front of me. "And thanks for letting me play with your iPad." I smiled as I scrawled my signature on the receipt and jammed the card into my wallet.
"Any time," I replied. "If you are still thinking about taking the plunge next time I'm in, and have any other questions, let me know. I'll be happy to help."
She smiled and nodded. "Ok, I will!" She turned and moved towards one of the tables near the front door.
I bent down to pick up my bag, and then looked again at my receipt. In the top left corner, above the date and time the check was run, I saw "SARAH" printed. Mentally, I locked the info away in the back of my mind. I slung my bag over my shoulder and passed her as I went towards the door. As she walked past me, she said, "Have a good weekend, Phillip!"
My hold body froze, trying to figure out how she knew my name. My brain caught up to the fact that it was from the same place where I just got hers. I turned back to face her. "You do the same, Sarah!" She raised her hand, her fingers waving slightly at me. Then she turned and moved back to the bar. I watched her go, then left for work.
---
At the office, I started in on the project, forgetting the day and everything at the pub. My manager asked about a slide presentation I was working on, and I reached back into my bag to bring my iPad out. As I unlocked it, I went to the task bar and tried to launch the slide program. I pressed the notepad app by mistake and was about close the notepad when I saw the last file opened.
There were three lines of random text, I registered it was some a poem or book I'd read once in college. Below the lines Sarah had typed out:
SARAH
512-577-9810
I made sure to hit save and then opened the slide editor and handed the pad to my boss. As she took it, she looked at me. "You're awfully happy for someone working on the weekend," she said.
Mr. Donaldson was waiting for Snoball when the elf appeared at the shop the next morning, just after sunrise. The bells at the top of the door jingled as he walked in while staring at his phone. "Good morning, boss," he said without looking up. He was wearing a white short-sleeved buttoned shirt, black tie, grey-blue slacks pulled halfway up to his chest and faded black leather shoes -- a typical office worker, though perhaps very short.
"Snoball," Donaldson nodded. He was leaning on the cash register, wearing his regular business clothes but with a large brown sack over one shoulder.
Snoball walked past him, still absorbed in whatever he was reading on his phone. "I'll make coffee," he said. "Sorry I'm late, I was reading the files on the Sacking of 1412."
"The Dwarvonian rebellion." The big man grunted. "Good idea. I should review those files myself."
The elf punched at his phone. "I've sent them to you," he said. He slid the phone into his shirt pocket and climbed on a footstool along the back counter to where the coffee maker lived. He removed the glass carafe and jumped back off the footstool to run down the corridor to the restroom. He returned a moment later with a carafe full of water that he poured into the coffee maker's reservoir. He ladled a handful of coffee beans into the grinder and then, while the beans were grinding at a tremendous volume, winked and pointed at Donaldson. "Smells like morning now," he said cheerfully. "I love coffee!" Satisfied with the state of the grind, he poured the dry grounds into the gold-filtered bucket at the top of the device.
He pushed the button labeled, "brew, dark," and climbed down the footstool and then climbed up the barstool behind the cash register. "Should be done in a few, sir," he said to Donaldson on the other side of the cash register.
Donaldson nodded, watching him. "Thank you," he said. "I could use it. I was up all night working out plans. Speaking of which, I have an assignment for you, should you choose to accept it."
( Read more about the assignment ...Collapse )
- Current Mood:
excited
When the sun went down, Mr. Donaldson sent Biscuit out for the dinner and shut himself in his office. From the lower drawer of his desk his found a bottle of golden liqueur and a square glass. He also found a metal cigar flask. He twisted off the top of the flask and let the cigar inside slide out. From the pencil drawer, a clipper to snip the end. From the side drawer, a box of matches.
He puffed the cigar to life and dropped the extinguished match onto the desk. He poured a dash of scotch into the glass and sat back in his chair. For once, he enjoyed the extended dip of its loose springs, and watched the coil of smoke engage the ceiling.
A noise behind him made him jump and splash the liqueur over his fingers. It was just the shade pulled down over the window, knocked by his chair. "Still jittery," he said to no one. "But thanks for reminding me." He drew the shade back enough to unlock and open the window. He yanked it open just enough to retrieve a black ashtray from the outside sill with his free hand, cigar clenched between his teeth.
As he closed the window, he was startled a second time by the sound of breaking glass. He jumped out of his chair, completely spilling the scotch and dropping the ashtray. It had to be glass in the shop. A window.
( Read more about ...Collapse )
- Current Mood: impressed
"This is what I like to see. A hateful young elf hitting rock bottom." Cane stood in the doorway to the small apartment shared by Unocello and Biscuit. He paused before entering as the smell of the room wafted over him.
Unocello stood ghostlike in black soiled clothes that looked like rags in the raw sunlight. "Cane, just the person i dislike." She said his name with utter disappointment and then turned to shamble toward the stained, unmade bed.
There were other things he wanted to say to her but those all seemed like minor issues at the immediate moment. "It smells really, really bad in here," he said. He put a hand over his nose.
Unocello sat gently on the bed. Her short hair was wet with sweat. "I ate the hotel shrimp," she said wetly. "And other drinking stuff."
Cane shook his head. "Why are you so dumb for a smartass? Oh, I guess you're just an ass."
She turned her face into the light from the open door. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and her skin was grey instead of porcelin. "Who would ever answer your personal ad?" She crawled further onto the bed, trying to get comfortable. "'Boastful meathead seeks pretty mannequin with a potato for a brain, bring beer.'"
He shrugged. "Pretty elves who don't talk so much."
Unocello leaned up weakly on her elbow and looked at him like a ghoul. "I'm actually going to throw up on you now. Just stay where you are." She started to make her way back off the bed.
"Okay, I'm going!" He raised his hands and backed out of the apartment. Outside the door, he turned back around and dropped his hands. He reached for the doorknob to pull it shut. "I'm going to get some cleaning equipment. Don't go changin', okay?"
- Current Mood: sympathetic
Like a nightmare, ghosts started to appear in the tunnel's fog. Biscuit thought he was hallucinating -- he felt like he was hallucinating -- but abruptly the ghosts became more Dwarvonians, carrying a stretcher carrying a young girl. She was maybe 10, a while she wasn't dead, she looked drained almost of all color. Her eyes followed his as she passed, and then was gone, fading away with the sound of the wide dwarven feet scooping at the water pooling on the floor.
Soon, another ghost became another set of Dwarvonians carrying a boy, also drained. His skin was blue, and Biscuit suspected this one was dead, until his eyelids flickered. After that one, more came and passed. Biscuit stopped looking at the children.
Someone behind him pressed a cup of water into his hand and he drank it. That made him feel better. "Keep going," the person behind him said with a voice like grinding rocks. Yes, he nodded a little. He would keep going, though his knees were long since numb.
The girl and boy that he had been walking behind had disappeared some time before and for a long while, Biscuit was alone, except the compelling shadow behind him. And now the returning Dwarvonians and the sick or dead children no longer passed him on their way back out. He barely noticed that the tunnel became smaller and smaller until he had to duck to keep his head below the ceiling.
( Read more about the ceiling ...Collapse )
- Current Mood: rejuvenated
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effwritersblock- September Writing Challenge
Page Summary
audissius : SEPTEMBER WRITING CHALLENGE 2012 [+1] - abfakesanta : Prompt 21: Lost [+0]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 20: Critical Review [+0]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 19: Nursery Rhyme [+0]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 18: Small Space [+1]
- signor_ferrari : Prompt 13: Fear [+0]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 17: Uncertain [+1]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 16: Unexpected UFO [+1]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 15: Personal Ad [+1]
- abfakesanta : Prompt 14: Unlikely Place [+0]
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