Many of the stories from the Gender-Funky Giraffe Call for Prompts seem ripe for continuation.
This week, I offer two at a discounted rate: $4 will buy 500 words more on either story, up to $40/50,000 (That’s more than I’ve written on anything but Addergoole).
From cluudle‘s prompt “female unicorn, male virgin:”
Jordan’s older sisters had all, when they were young, old enough to be maidens but still pure, gone down to the river. Each of them, in turn, had received the unicorn’s bloodly blessing, as did every girl of the village, their village and every hamlet along the Pure River. Their blood blessed the fields, kept the water clean despite the factories upstream, kept the crops coming. Their blood made their bellies rise with unicorn babies; there wasn’t a household along the river that didn’t have a white-haired child in their midst.
Every spring, the girls who had come into their womanhood went down to the river. Every spring but this one, when there were no new maidens, no fresh pure blood to shed. The water was beginning to show the taint of the factories; the crops were slow in coming up. And their town had no virgin girls to give.
Girls bleed in the water, men sweat in the fields. So he had always been taught. But there were no girls, and Jordan was still pure. His beloved, Daisy, had died, as girls did, now and then, of the blood she had given to the unicorns and the small child she had born. In her memory, in the need of the fields and his family, the needs of her tiny changeling baby, Jordan went to the river in the moonlight, and knelt before the unicorn he found there.
“Take what you will,” he told the beast – a mare, he saw; weren’t they always stallions? Stallions, to leave their changeling children. “Take what you need.”
From lilfluf‘s accidental prompt “Royal Reform School:”
The princess Serafina had been kidnapped, and nobody seemed to care.
Indeed, outside of the Princess herself, nobody even seemed to know. There was a TV outside of her prison, and she could hear it prattling about the banal, not-Sera-related news of the day. As far as the morons on TV seemed to think, the Princess was on retreat in the country, relaxing on a horse ranch. That had, indeed, been her plan, a vacation suggested by her mother. But instead, she’d been body-snatched and locked in this barn, with straw on the floors and nothing but a stale bowl of water to drink. She could hear people walking by, talking; she could hear the TV. They seemed immune to her shouting – and to her powers of charm. She kept shouting, anyway.
She’d been there for what she thought was three days when the door finally opened. She flung herself at the large, burly man who walked in, reaching out with her hands and with her power. “Let me out, let me out, send me HOME!,” she screamed – croaked, rather; the water had been gone for a day.
She was so wrapped up in her panicked attack that she barely noticed the collar he locked around her throat until it was closed.
Any other fic written can, of course, be sponsored for continuation at my usual $5/300 word rate. 🙂
We are under $15 from reaching the first incentive goal of $125!
For every $50 from $75 ($125, $175, $225, etc) reached, I will write and post publicly another short story as an expansion of one of the gender-funky drabbles.
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