Tag Archive | prompter: rix
Protected: The Child Of….
Turn Around_
Originally posted on Patreon in January 2019 and part of the Great Patreon Crossposting to WordPress.
In the Prompt Call, I mentioned that:
Fic starring characters who’ll later be in the novel currently titled Found Down Below is available http://www.lynthornealder.com/2018/08/02/thimbleful-thursday-parts-and-points/ and http://www.lynthornealder.com/2018/08/27/what-the-spell/ .
This is the third character in that novel.
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He didn’t turn around.
Part of him was screaming to. Huge parts of him ached with it, whispered to him, reminded him that Dyevo had found all his jobs, had paid his rent, had bought his food…
…had taken 90% of all his fees, leaving him with enough to cover a couple entertainments and the options Dyevo didn’t deign to provide.
Mostly potions, because Dyevo ran this part of town, and if Dyevo didn’t think his Parts should have something, they were gonna make said Parts pay out the nose.
That, of course, was another problem. Dyevo ran this part of town. He ran Tayevyi Industries, he ran the BelowSpace entries, he ran the Parts that did the running and the entertainment and the black market shipping. Continue reading
Present
a story for my New Year’s Prompt Call, which you should go prompt at please, here.
Warning… a wee bit maudlin.
The snow had finally melted. It had been a long winter – slow-starting but then dumping buckets of snow on us all of February and March and most of April.
It was May 5th, and I could finally see all of the grass, or at least the parts that had survived. I could see, too, my poor bushes, which had not done well but which were, now, trying to put out the buds they normally would have put out in early March. Continue reading
Swale Lake
Originally posted on Patreon in October 2018 and part of the Great Patreon Crossposting to WordPress.
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This story brought to you by someone introducing me to the Disappearance of Bobby Dunbar – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disappearance_of_Bobby_Dunbar~*~
“The boy was confused.”
In the years to come, that would be said more than any other phrase in relation to the Bobby Dagmar case.
It was also both the most accurate and, considering how it was used, the least correct.
They would also say that he had hit his head, temporarily suffering thus from severe nearsightedness and hearing loss. They had the symptoms correct in this case, but not the cause.
But what nobody ever quite could answer was why neither potential mother — Mrs. Dagmar nor the woman who claimed the boy was Jules Whittier — recognized the boy until they bathed him.
Room and Board
Originally posted on Patreon in October 2018 and part of the Great Patreon Crossposting to WordPress.
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Set in my ‘verse Reiassan, at an unknown time or series of times. 👻
The hotel had been there since the city had been there, and the city had been there since people started landing on this coast. It had been a small inn, three stories tall, made of solid stone carved out of the cliffs.
When the family – Arrans through and through – had needed more room, they had added on another wing. As time went on, more wings were added, until the original building was surrounded – except for a narrow courtyard on front and back – and until the original additions were also, save for more narrow courtyards, surrounded.
But in the core of the hotel, there was one room that they would never rent out. Even in a holiday, when every single room in every inn in all three of the Arran cities was booked, when anyone who claimed any blood of the Arrans came home to see the sea (such as “home” was to these refugees without a nation), they would not book the last room on the right on the second floor of the original inn. Continue reading
Protected: Stone by Stone
What’s in the Garden?
Written to Rix-Scaedu’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call. This is definitely a Science! story, complete with the Boss – Liam – and his plucky second-in-command.
The raid had taken down three scientists working outside the bounds of the law, morality, or common sense, along with seven “assistants”, mostly grad students, who would probably not be charged, as having to find another research position might be punishment enough for anyone.
It had also found several references to “the farm office,” which, once the proper grad student was interrogated, appeared to be an old veterinary clinic sitting in a small farm town half an hour outside the city.
Liam, who had no official government or law-enforcement position, and Cara, who was, on paper, at least, his second-in-command, were along on both trips. Liam had already recruited the most sensible of the scientists (along with hiring her a lawyer) and the three grad students Cara had hand-picked. Now – now they got to see what the farm office was. Continue reading