Written to DaHob’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call. Fae Apoc, early apocalypse.
Things had been going weird for weeks, but Tlalli had been doing a pretty good job of pretending they weren’t.
She went to classes every day, went to work after that, and screened stupid application after stupid application for a roommate, looking for someone who wouldn’t be torture to live with and would actually pay the rent something like on time.
There was some weird shit on the tv, weirder shit on youtube, and twitter was blowing up with the stuff people had seen – and the people that had died or vanished. One person she followed posted a list every morning. Just an image, black names on white text. It was getting pretty long. Continue reading
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The drive was not all that long, although it went through five minutes of the sort of traffic where it would have been quicker and probably easier to get out and walk. Ctirad shifted a few times in his seat, but for the most part, he was still. He wanted to find a place where he could be what Timaios wanted of him, even if I want you to be you was the least helpful advice ever.
He opened his eyes when Sal pulled into an underground garage that, while not hidden, was not exactly advertised, either. The bar that raised when Sal swiped a card was far more intense than the normal wooden gate, too, and there were two of them and a metal roll-door before they reached the actual garage.
“Secure,” Ctirad murmured.
“People who work here take such things very seriously,” Timaios agreed. “And I admit I like it, or at least, my public persona likes it.” Continue reading
Written to Clare-Dragonfly’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call. Aunt Family all the way.
Beulah considered the spell that had been the work of the last decade.
She considered young woman now leaving the property a young woman who attended the property – an 85 year old Widow. Valise in hand, she was headed off to a new life, away from whispers of what she’d done when she was twenty (the story originally had been what they did when they were twenty, but as more and more of the children of the original miscreants told the story, rather than the people who had been there, they didn’t wish to impugn their own parents, and so one by one the party shrank until it was only the woman leaving now and Beulah – and nobody made whispers like that about Beulah where she might be some day hear them); she left behind two dead husbands, three dead children, eight grandchildrens and at least four great-grandchildren, one of whom was Beulah’s great-grand-niece. Continue reading