Now taking 4 prompts on Mushrooms Closed!
For a master prompt on this call, see here.
Tip ‘Shroom 😉
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Archive | May 23, 2014
May/June Giraffe Call: Micro Prompts
Doing something different this time!
I’m going to post a series of themes, to which I’ll take 3-5 prompts; I’ll write a story – a drabble, really, 100-250 words – to each prompter, and then post a new prompt, for five-or-more prompts.
The current prompt is here – Variants
Closed Prompts:
Mushrooms
Circles
Packages
As always, there are tip incentives:
* If I get to $25 in tips, I get take-out (mmm take-out)
* If I get to $50 in tips, I will either:
– write to a second prompt for each tipper
or
– let each tipper who has not left more than one prompt suggest a new theme for prompts
* If we get to $75 in tips, I will write two extra 500-word continuations – chosen by prompters picked by random number generator.
* At $120, everyone who donated will get an additional (3rd) microfic written to their prompts.
And of course, I will write 100 words of continuation to a story of your choice for every $1 you donate.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/720328.html. You can comment here or there.
“So Who Are You?”
“So who are you?”
Blaecleah had been answering that question all day. Some people said it like an invitation, some people said it like a challenge. Some people said it like he was in their space – like this guy, too tall and too lean and with too white of teeth.
“I’m Blaecleah. Who are you?” It was a novel situation; before now, everyone had known him and he’d known everyone.
Instead of answering, too-tall just grinned. “Hah. I like you.” He grabbed Blaecleah’s arm – he tried to grab Blaecleah’s arm, seemed unsurprised when Blaecleah dodged, and somehow managed to get a hand on him anyway. “Very nice. Creche kid?”
“Yeah, what of it?” Blaechleah blinked up at the guy. The grip was too tight to break with a simple twist; did he need to start a fight?
“You guys are always tougher than the ones of us from outside. Sort of. Tougher and softer at the same time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shifted his body as far as too-tall’s grip would allow, and got his feet into fighting stance.
The guy just grinned even wider. “Look at you. Ready to knock my teeth in. And yet you’ve never lived a day without electricity in your life, have you?”
The creche was in the Village; the Village was within Addergoole’s wards. “No? Why should I?”
“Because you won’t be in the creche forever.”
“Obviously. I’m here now.”
“You are. And how will you survive here?”
Blaecleah looked around. “That’s a joke, right?” Soft carpeting, paneled walls – down here, you’d never know there’d even been an apocalypse.
“Is it?”
“Oh, you’re a barrel of laughs.”
“Look.” Too-tall did something, and then he was holding both of Blaecleah’s arms. “You’re quick, and you’re a smart-mouth, and that’s a good start. But that’s not gonna be anything but the bare basics, here.”
Blaecleah snorted. “I can take anything you can. I can take absolutely anything you dish out.”
“Oh, really?”
Something in Blaecleah set off alarm bells, but he’d come this far; he wasn’t going to back down now. “Really.”
“Anything.”
“Anything. Duh.”
“Say you’ll belong to me.”
What? Blaecleah glanced away. He’d grown up in the Village; he knew what that meant. He’d seen enough people wander through collared. He scoffed to cover his pause. “That’s the best you got? Sure, I’ll be yours for a year.”
“Then for the next year, you Belong to me, Blaecleah. Come on.”
Head spinning, Blaecleah went where he was tugged.
Next: Bug
Like what you see?
Click on the cup
to buy me some tea!
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A Walk (@korionfray)
So, the writer in my attic, K Orion Fray, sends out a weekly writing inspiration e-mail, which includes a writing prompt.
A prompt from many weeks ago:
Take a character guide, like the one I’ve attached, and make a character. Don’t spend too much time working on details; just get the basics and worry about kinks later. Then take the city you live in, or a city you are familiar with, and drop them into the middle of it. Have them figure out how to deal with it (especially if you’ve made a character who normally wouldn’t be in your city!), walk around, interact with people…just see what you can do. Sometimes, you could be surprised at what you learn!
This story – well, vignette – is in the same world as
A Scene Description and
A Place Description
A Deletion and
A Conversation
And I used the generator inventrix made me for Addergoole/Fae Apoc, so:
The character is female
5 ft. 5 in. tall.
slim athletic build.
shoulder blades perfectly straight light brown hair.
greengrey eyes.
light skin.
posture is notable in some fashion
Aria strolled down the streets of what passes for a downtown in Burchester, NY. She’d been here less than a month – moved here for work, for a dream job in terms of pay, benefits, duties, co-workers – pretty much everything except location, which just happens to be in the rustiest of rust belt cities, in the coldest of Great Lakes areas, in the armpit of America.
And that was fine, because she didn’t want all that much to do with her family anyway. Go… Orange, or Red, or Slightly Reddish-Orange, or whatever the college colors were around here. Go being in Burchester and not Springfield.
Burchester was weird, though, and she was never quite sure if it was because she was new, or because the city was just weird. Something about it got under your skin.
Like the street art. Someone had put a lot of money into this bus stop, the one shaped like an umbrella, and that was lovely. But somehow, it never seemed to quite look right. Any angle you looked at it, it looked just a little bit off.
Not everything was creepy – except in that city-that-was-past-its-prime way, like these sad flower boxes. Maybe sometime, once, they’d held flowers. Now they held trash. Aria picked up a few pieces and dropped them in the nearby garbage can, trying to ignore the slimy feeling they left of her fingers.
And some things were beautiful. She rounded the corner – she wasn’t even all that sure where she was going – and came across a rose garden, striped across three acres in the most brilliant rainbow of floral beauty she had ever seen.
Aria took in the scent. Maybe Burchester wasn’t all that weird. Maybe she just shouldn’t have moved in in February.
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