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The Silent Planet

Warning: Horror. 

This story came out of nowhere, honestly.  I just started typing and this is what I got. 


The water slipped through the canal, snuck along the rocks, and whispered along the muddy bank. There wasn’t a burble to be heard, not a whisper, not a splash.

In this place, even the water was silent. In this place, there was no sound at all louder than a breath, and even the breaths were held when they could be.

In this place, those that walked did so on muffled feet and every wall was as thick as it could be. In this place, even a whisper could be too loud. Continue reading

Awakening

This story comes from (checking the prompt link twice) this Reddit r/writingprompts prompt and was posted there first. 

Content warnings for surgery, bionic parts, and um, non-consensual body modifications?

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Waking felt strange. There’d been times when Jo had woken up quickly, woken up scared, woken up slowly in a warm sunbeam, woken warm and comfortable – although the last had been rare, in the last few years. Continue reading

The Pumpkin Witch

The Pumpkin Witch (superimposed over a cinderella-style pumpkin carriage)

This story is the second one to my Squish-Squash, Pumpkins and Gourds Prompt Call. New characters, unknown world. 

🎃

 “They say she only comes out when the pumpkins are ripe.” Harriet tried for a creepy voice but ended up, to her ear, sounding more sick then spooky.

“They say,” Yasmin tried to top her, “she spoke to Charles Shultz, but he tried to banish her by creating the Great Pumpkin.”

“They say she spoke to Matt Groening and he tried to warn the world in his Treehouse of Horror ‘Great Pumpkin,'” Doc countered. Continue reading

The Last Prison

This started out thinking about the concept of an immortal in prison but it sort of went… I’m not actually sure where it went.  Enjoy?

⛓️

“How long has she been in here?”

The District Head of Corrections and the Warden of the only old-style prison remaining in the Consortium stood studying the case file of Dolores Colchinny. 

“A hundred and ten years.”  The Warden tapped the holo-display.  “Every twenty-five years, her law firm tries to get her released.  Every twenty-five years, a judge turns them down.  You can see where they did that ten years ago.” Continue reading

Long Game – a fic for Thimbleful Thursday

“That investment is a long shot, you know.”  The broker frowned across the table at Freida.  “It won’t pay out for decades, maybe even longer.  Now if you want something that’ll give you some money to play with-”

“Decades is fine.”  Frieda knew what the broker was seeing – a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, who was going to get bored with this whole thing too quickly and demand greater returns in the short term.

She also knew everything he wasn’t seeing.

“Well, how about we split the difference? You put half into something like this, the other half into, say-”

“If you’re not willing to make the investments I’m interested in, I can find another brokerage firm.  I don’t need money next week.  I want this money to be growing for my posterity.”

She snipped the words off shortly.  She never was good at acting the age her face said she might be.  Then again, she never was good at patience, either – in anything except this.

Except her money.

“Well, if you’re sure.  I just have this contract-”

She smiled.

She could stand having the conversation once every hundred years, could stand the ten or twenty years of tight money for each  century.

She could handle the long game for the payouts that were coming.

 


Written to August 26th’s Thimbleful Thursday prompt and 217 words long.

Three and a Half Oaks

Based on a prompt found here.

🌳

Between the blink of an eye, in a heartbeat, in a breath, in things that stopped mattering, the world stopped – or at least we did.

People froze. I froze. Animals froze. Insects froze, I think. 

It was – when I thought about it clinically, it was fascinating.  My body didn’t hunger, didn’t ache, didn’t have any needs.  My eyes didn’t dry out.  I’d been sitting in the park.  The others in the park seemed the same – stuck in a single moment.  They didn’t fall over, even if in mid-jog.  The squirrel hung in mid-climb.  The ducks stopped in mid-nibble. 

Nothing moved.  Nothing but plants.  Nothing died, nothing rotted, nothing breathed, nothing but plants.  Continue reading

Biting

Biting

This story is a follow-up to Fishing Day, is as dark as that one, and is from my Fishy Prompt Call, as the original story reached 7 comments (the last time I counted). Not sure I actually answered anything, but I carried on without any more on-screen murder, at least. 

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The fish fought the line.  She pulled, reeling it in carefully.  There were police coming up behind her.  She finished reeling in, carefully unhooking the fish.  “Officers.”  Her bucket had three fish in it already; she checked the size of this one and dropped it in with the others.  “I heard screaming a little while ago.  Is everyone okay?” Continue reading

Train Rolls On….

From writing prompt found here.  

🚂

“Did you give me this note?”

The train was rumbling on into night time, so I’d been getting settled into “my” sleeper room when the woman came in wielding a note on a lined index card. 

I took it from her carefully, using two fingers on the corner, and gave it a glance. 

Whatever you do, don’t get off this train until it arrives at the final stop. Continue reading

Fishing Day

Fishing Day

New prompter!  Also, this story involves murder. (Attn new Prompter: you can either ask for a continuation of this story or give me another prompt, as you wish)

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“Shit.”  She was trying to get calm, get mellow, to enjoy the sun on the lake and the breeze in her hair.  Her mind kept coming back to the body in the swamp, just a couple hundred feet away.

She hadn’t meant to kill the man.  Well, man-thing.  She hadn’t meant to be killing anything today, it was a fishing day. 

Fishing days were sacred.  She got up before dawn, headed out to the lake, and stayed until past dusk. 

If she happened to catch something? Bonus.  Continue reading