Tag Archive | prompt: thimbleful

Let the Good Times Roll/Forgery, a story of Fae Apoc for Thimbleful Thursday

Feb22

Set in late February, 2012

Carmelita knew a handful of things.

She knew that it was Mardi Gras and she was, by strange coincidence, in New Orleans.

She knew that her hometown was burning, crushed, and flooding, all at once, which was not, to her way of thinking, a very good state of affairs.

She knew that she was twenty-one and, possibly more importantly, that at the moment almost nobody anywhere was going to ask her age.

And she knew that, despite everything, despite everyone, despite the war and the so-called gods and the even-less-likely-called saviors, New Orleans was still running, still partying, still rolling.

She leaned over the edge of the balcony. “Laissez les Bons Temps Rouler!” It wasn’t real French. It didn’t need to be. The burgundy in her glass wasn’t real burgundy, either, no matter how many times the man had told her it was. And it didn’t need to be, either.

“Sweetheart, come back inside.” The man had ideas, of course. He’d bought her the fake burgundy. He’d paid with stolen credit and thought she hadn’t noticed. His accent had changed three times in the four hours they’d been together. “Come back to bed, lovely Carmel.”

Of all the nicknames you could make from her name, she disliked that one, often also used to describe the color of her skin, the most. “It’s not ‘back to,'” she told him, a little more crossly than she might have, under normal circumstances. “I haven’t been there yet.”

“Come to bed, then. There’s more burgundy,” he coaxed her, his voice smooth as the not-really-silk sheets. “There’s Camembert and crackers.”

The streets were calling her. “Eat, drink, and be merry,” Carmelita muttered. The man was less interesting than he had been, once you saw him up close, like any forgery. “I’m not dead yet,” she called over her shoulder, and jumped into the street.

For this week’s Thimbleful Thursday: Laissez les Bons Temps Rouler

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Paying Attention, a story of Fae Apoc for Thimbleful Thursday

Jan29

He’d never noticed her.

She’d changed her hair color and gotten a haircut. She’d gotten not just one but three promotions at work, one of them directly over him.

He still didn’t notice her.

She saved his life in the middle of the Fae Attack, and he brushed himself off and muttered cursory thanks while eyeing the blonde from IT. She saved his life again when the hell-hounds came running through – and the blonde’s life; no reason to let her die.

He still didn’t notice her.

So she set his world on fire, stepped out into the street and burned it down around his ears, leaving only him alive.

To today’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt, “Set the world on fire,” 110 words.

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Ready-to-Order, a short ficlet for Thimbleful Thursday

Jan26

He was gorgeous. He had perfect pecs; six-pack abs; smooth skin; short, perfectly-tousled curls; stunning green eyes; and white teeth. He was just enough taller than her to be pleasant, without being so tall as to loom, and, dressed in nothing but blue jeans and a leather collar, he looked absolutely to die for. And he was hers.

The icing on his scrumptious bright-smiled handsome-eyes striking-nose cake (and now she wanted to lick icing off his nose – and she could!) was that this absolutely delicious chunk of manliness had volunteered. He’d signed up for the collar, the leash, the half-nudity, and five years of complete and utter servitude. And the slightly-dazed smile on his face suggested that, so far, he wasn’t regretting it.

She’d watched his recruitment video. She was sure he’d watched her placement video; it was a required part of the matching procedure. And then, because this was her first time doing this sort of thing, she’d watched his processing by remote camera.

She heard that recruits got to keep the abs, etc., when they were done. And that, that was the sprinkles on the icing (She had to try that, really, really had to try that). Not only had he volunteered, but this new, shaped-to-order body was as new to him as it was to her.

~

To January 23rd’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt, approx. 200 words

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Thimbleful Thursday – Mad in Atter, a story of Foedus Planaterum

Jan11

This belongs to the Foedus Planetarum setting and the Tod’cxeckz’ri Paper Story.

Previous in Story

“I suppose we could try my father,” Yira Trembane had suggested. They needed an acceptable relation to void their contract, and visiting Yira’s mother had turned out messily-at-best. “It’s just… he lives on Korsakoff. I don’t think he’s going to be much help.”

“I visited Korsakoff once.” Jahnan wince. “It was…”

“Memorable?” Yira’s teasing come out rough-voiced.

“Ouch. Yeah. Something like that.” She leaned back in the seat of the Maru and closed her eyes. “I landed…”


    Nehanani Jahnan set down her little star-bouncer on the neglected landing field of Atter, Korsakoff’s largest city. There were only two other ships in the field – a Foedus bureaucracy ship, probably census or taxes, and her quarry. There was dust over her quarry’s ship, but Korsakoff was known for its heavy dust that coated everything – he could have been here a day or a week.

    She fitted a filtered mask over her face. Korsakoff’s air wasn’t exactly poisonous – but it wasn’t any fun, either. Not if you wanted to leave anytime soon. Chances were, her target was just down the road. Unless he’d thought to mask, hoping she’d – ha – forget.

    She found Fess Entiror in a bar, just inside the city limits of Atter. The bartender aimed a desultory wave her way, and passed her a drink. Jahnan paid and headed for the table where Fess Entiror was already talking.

    “…and so I headed into New Malibu…”

      And there, in the middle of the town, there was this statute, this giant thing, larger than life, of a naked woman, with her hand… well, there’s ladies present. And there, sitting at the base of the statue, with his hand… sorry, ladies, well, there was my target.

      And the moral of the story is, never go into New Malibu drunk, or you’re just going to end up a sitting duck for whoever’s hunting you.”

    There was no point in talking to him; he had the glazed eyes and rambling speech patterns of someone already suffering from Korsakoff Syndrome. Jahnan couldn’t resist, anyway, as she slapped the cuffs on him.

    “And the moral of the story is, never go to Korsakoff when you’re on the run from the law, or you’re going to end up mad-ass in Atter, waiting for whoever’s hunting you.”

Yira coughed. “Or, well. Maybe we could just visit my stepfather, the first one.”
~

To January 8th’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt, approx. 400 words

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/883945.html. You can comment here or there.

The Bridge, a story for Thimbleful Thursday

Oct30

“There’s no water under the bridge.” Geoff stopped midway across the plank structure to stare down at the stones. “I mean, there’s a lot of rubbish, and some moss, but there’s no water at all, even standing water.”

Before Elora could stop him, he’d vaulted over the railing – nearly ripping it off in the process; it wasn’t very well-built – and started digging in the rocks with his shovel. “The bridge isn’t recent. But if this was a streambed, there should be some sign of water under here. I mean, we haven’t seen any evidence that the stream has moved.”

“Well, one, it could have moved further ahead of us. Two, it could be the dry season. And three—” Elora was growing very uncomfortable having Geoff down there. “—they could have built the bridge for some other reason than water.” She offered him a hand. “We don’t know why they didn’t want to walk over that area, that area you’re standing right on right now, but we know it was important enough for them to waste rare timber on it. Come on, please?”

Geoff didn’t move. “I. I think I know why they built a bridge. I’m… I’m sorry, Elora.”

~

To September 25th’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt, approx. 200 words

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Weaving a Plan, for #Thimbleful and #FridayFlash

Oct30

“I never thought this would come in handy. Those underwater basket-weaving classes you took in college, your ‘easy a’s’…” Amelie shook her head. “I thought you were coasting.”

“Everybody thought I was coasting.” Brent finished the repair with an elaborate knot. “It’s hard to explain that you know you have to learn something. So I went with Liberal Arts because it allowed me to dabble…”

“And used your psychic powers to take classes you knew you were going to need?”

“Well…” Brent swam up. Below, a basket wrapped around a shifting seal, holding an Old One in their place. “Yes.”

~

To this week’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt, 100 words. Also for Friday Flash.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/840457.html. You can comment here or there.

Say What You Want, a ficlet of Clockwork Apoc for Thimbleful Thursday

Oct29

to the Thimbleful Thursday prompt from 2 weeks back “For XYZ reasons;” 393 words

“So, she went right into the middle of a Blank zone. Just walked through it, like there weren’t Creatures still in the air and only the skies know what sort of trouble on the ground. Not to mention falling walls and all that standing water….” Grace shook her head. “Who knows what goes through the mind of someone like that?”

“We’re talking about Lisette, right?” Rose pursed her lips. “Who knows why she does anything? She’s the one that rode below an airship all the way across the Blank Plains. She’s the one that brought home an Other just to see what made it tick. She does what she wants, for x, y, and z reasons, and the rest of us just have to stay out of her way.”

“You just put up with here?” Grace had only been in the compound for a few months; she’d been a refuge from a lost town, Mortin, one of only three survivors. Rose tried to remember that when Grace got… difficult. Judgey. “It seems like she’s putting the whole compound at risk.”

Rose took a breath. Remember what happened to Mortin. Remember the bodies. Remember the Blanks. “The thing about Lisette is… yes, she does her own things, for her own reasons, reasons that are best not asked about and not worth speculating on. And when the compound was attacked by a wave of Blanks last year, it was Lisette – Lisette, on her own – that saved us.”

“But you let her just wander into Blank zones. What if she came back blanked out? What if she contracted some disease?” Grace leaned forward. “What if she let the Blanks in?”

“Lisette is not going to do something like that.” Although Rose was beginning to see a picture of how Mortin had fallen. “Lisette does what she does, for Lisette’s reasons – but she protects the compound. She’s never failed to protect the compound.”

“But what if she’s wrong? What if, worse, what if she’s doing something wrong? You can’t just let people wander around for mysterious reasons, and not expect them to turn on the compound! You can’t!” Grace’s voice was getting louder and louder, shriller and shriller.

Rose kept her voice low and quiet. “Lisette has her reasons for doing what she does. And we have our reasons for letting her.”

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Quick-and-Dirty, a story of Clockwork Apoc for Thimbleful Thursday

Oct27

“I can do a quick-and-dirty fix.” Carlotta pushed the magnifying eyepiece back on her head, pinning her red-and-white curls back with the strap. It gave her, Johsnen thought, a strangely rakish and mechanical look, the telescoping eyepiece sticking out of her head like a periscope. “To actually repair it would take three weeks to a month and parts we don’t have here. So that adds another two weeks to a month, depending on when a caravan or ‘ship can get through to Ashburg. That kind of fix, though, that would hold up to just about anything except maybe a wild boar attack.”

“And the quick-and-dirty?” Johsnen ran an apologetic hand over the ‘car. He really hadn’t meant to get it into so much trouble. But there’d been Them, and then there’d been that hole in the road he hadn’t seen until he was in it, and all things considered, he was lucky he’d gotten himself and the steamcar back to Bridgeport. But she’d never look the same again, and she’d been a lot of miles in the poor thing.

“The quick-and-dirty I can do with what I have here. It’ll run, it’ll be safe against normal impacts – it’ll take a humanoid hit, but stay away from big tusked or horned things – and it won’t break down. But it’s going to be a little more fragile, and it’ll probably take a few more repairs along the way.”

“Can you…”

“Yeah. But if you come back around in winter, it’s going to be more like three months. For one thing, everyone does the same thing. For the other…”

Johsnen sighed. “Yeah. For the other, nobody wants to travel the Blank Plains in wintertime.”

This was meant to be about Carlotta (with a nod to @inventrix), but it really turned out to be more about Johsnen (Jawz-nen). Ah, well.

283 words, to two weeks’ past Thimbleful Thursday, here: https://thimblefulthursday.wordpress.com/2014/10/16/thimbleful-thursday-prompt-2/

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Thimbleful Thursday: A Piece of Cake

Oct23

“Okay, so, first we need to break into the Library…” Asha ticked it off on an invisible white board.

“Piece of cake.” Tonya didn’t even look up from burnishing her nails.

“Then we need to break into the Rare Books Vault…”

“Cake.”

“And then we need to break the spell on the book, which will include casting a ritual circle in less than a three-foot-wide space, and not setting off either the spell-based alarms or the motion detectors while doing so.”

“What, all of that while balancing on our heads? Come on, give us a challenge. Piece of cake.” Tonya grinned over her well-filed nails at Asha.

“…and, once we have the book in our hands, we need to get out of the Rare Books Vault, get out of the Library, get off campus and back to the apartment, and then we’ll need another ritual circle, which, at least we have, to get the information properly out of the the book. And then put it all back – though that’s the easy part.”

Tonya’s grin grew bigger. “I’m telling you, Asha. It’s a piece of cake.”

“And what do we get out of it?”

Her roommate gestured broadly. “The world’s best piece. Of. Cake.”

To Today’s Thimbleful Prompt, “Piece of Cake,” 204 words

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