Tag Archive | prompt: microbookends

Passing Dreams, written for last week’s @MicroBookends

Jun28

(I didn’t win, so here’s last week’s microfic at 110 words. Check out the MicroBookEnd page for the photo and prompt.)

“Big freaking deal.” Jenny and the rest of the mean kids kicked at the chalk letters. “So you have a list. Ooh, I see, it’s a ‘wish list.’” Jenny snorted. “Cute.”

Trying to get them to help had been dumb.

“Here, let me see.” Jenny snatched the chalk out of Maris’ hand. “You wished for a new dog? Right.” She scribbled at the bottom of the list. “Twenty dollars. Uh. What?” She jumped, but the list was already pulling her in, replacing her with a twenty, the way it had given a dog when it had taken Maris’ brother.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/954938.html. You can comment here or there.

Quick, Click, written for last week’s @MicroBookends

Jun22

(I didn’t win, so here’s last week’s microfic at 110 words. Check out the MicroBookEnd page for the photo and prompt.)

Urban vampires live among us.

The rural breed is nearly extinct; vampires like hectic fear and the country is slower, tireder. The last rural vampire retired to a farm college where he feeds quietly off of grad students.

Urban vampires, however, live on. They dwell in the places between mirrors, in the arching walls of glass, in streetlight reflectors: not in the shadows, but in the excess of light.

It’s said that they love elevators. They can be seen there sometimes, hiding behind your stacked reflections. A camera might capture them – or release them.

But perhaps there is no need to fear, and it is all just a legend.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/951980.html. You can comment here or there.

Reconstruction, written for last week’s @MicroBookends

Jun15

(I didn’t win, so here’s last week’s microfic at 109 words. Check out the MicroBookEnd page for the photo and prompt.)

“Double points if you find one the right color.” The junkyard stretched on for miles, acre upon acre of beehives, feral dogs, and cars as wrecked as the world around them. Joey and Zeph were perched an old truck, surveying their realm from a central vantage.

“Who cares about color?” Zeph scoffed. “If it runs, it’s going to be a miracle. If it hauls, we’re in.”

“If it runs and LOOKS good, then we’ve done what nobody else has in fifteen years. That’s the thing, little sister.” Joey posed, wrench and crowbar pointed to the sky. “If we do this, no-one, NOBODY, will be able to follow our act.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/949778.html. You can comment here or there.