Tag Archive | giraffecall

Happy Monday! Giraffe Call!

Mar19

To quote a co-worker, I almost sound like I have my own voice again! This is a MAJOR improvement!

The March Giraffe Call is still open, and will remain so until bedtime tonight, ~11 p.m. Eastern Time. It’s been a slow call, probably because of the weird format – the topic is “Weren’t you going to write…?” In essence, I’m offering you an opportunity to bump up forgotten continuations in my queue, remind me of a brilliant idea I had and then forgot, or just ask for more of a story you really enjoyed.

We’re at $25 as of first thing this morning, which puts us $5 from takeout and $15 from the first incentive level.


And with that said, off I go to begin writing again! Whee Monday!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/302480.html. You can comment here or there.

Human Town

Mar18

For [personal profile] anke‘s commissioned continuation of Parent-Teacher Conference (LJ) and Humanity (LJ). Have no fears, there is one more section in the queue to write!

Dragons next Door has a landing page here.

“So, little sister…” Jimmy’s crests did a fun ripple thing, like doing the wave, and his jaw dropped for a second in the way dragons mimicked human smiles, “My favorite little sister.”

“Jin says that!” she told him gleefully. “I’m your only little sister, too!”

“You’re right,” he laughed. “Well, while we’re up here, best-only-little-sister, what do you want to see?”

“EVERYTHING,” Juniper giggled. “How far can you take me?”

“I have a little while,” he answered, and swooooped down almost to the road level before climbing back upwards, wings flapping mightily. “Let’s look at Smokey Knoll. It’s always fun to look at your home from the sky.”

“Eeeee!” she squealed happily, and held on Very Tightly, like she’d promised, as Jimmy swooped and twirled in the air, almost like he was dancing with her.

“What’s it like, where dragons live” she called. The houses behind them looked like one boring grey roof after another, all so very similar, roof, roof, roof, red tiles! She wanted to know who lived in the place with the red tiles.

Jimmy didn’t answer for a minute. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her, but his crests were laying down flat. Something wrong? She’d asked it the wrong way?

“You’ve seen where we live,” he called back to her, his crests popping up brightly. “You’re over there all the time.”

“But…” Her question turned quickly into an eeeeeeeeeee as he swooped again. “Jimmy!” she called exasperatedly.

“I don’t remember where we came from very well,” he answered, falling into a nice level flight again. “Look, here, you can see where Human Town ends and Smokey Knoll begins.”

“Human town?” She peered down at the roofs, and the tall hedge around the Mulberry family’s house. “I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”

Jimmy’s crests wiggled again. “It’s what a lot of the other races call the city and the burbs, the places that the humans live in. Like, you know, how there’s Tiny Town downtown?”

“But humans live in Smokey Knoll, too,” she pointed out, confused. “Us. The Mulberry family. The Sanjays.”

“Look, there’s the Harpy place,” Jimmy called. He was ignoring her a lot today. “Watch out, incoming harpy chick!”

Giggling, Juniper ducked, covering her face with one hands. Little harpies were an airborne threat until they got used to their wings. And Jimmy… Jummy wasn’t telling her something.

Maybe Jin would tell her. Or maybe she could ask the nice guy at the bus stop.

Next: An Understanding (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/301977.html. You can comment here or there.

Big Bad Witch

Mar18

For [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s Prompt.

Evangaline modern-era. After Unexpected Guest, Followed Me Home (LJ), and In the Cards (LJ)

Pancakes in hand, Eva knocked on the door to her Florida room and paused to listen.

A startled jumping sound was followed quickly by some hasty blanket-noises, and then, cautiously, “yeah?”

“It’s Eva,” she called, amused. “I brought breakfast. I can bring it in, or you can come eat in the kitchen with me.”

“I… uh. Could you bring it in?”

“Coming in,” she agreed, trying not to laugh. She swung the door open, and set the tray down on the low coffee table, before plopping herself into the old wicker chair. “Did you sleep well?”

“I… yeah.” He sounded a bit startled by that. “Did you… hex me or something?”

“I thought we talked about the witch thing.”

“You said you didn’t look like a witch. And you really don’t. But this house… everyone says it’s the witch’s house. Always has been.”

“And they say you shouldn’t go inside?”

“They say kids who do, never come out.”

Eva pursed her lips. “There is the off chance,” she allowed, “that one of my ancestors liked to scare small children. But, if it’s who I’m thinking of, those small children are grandparents or great-grandparents now, and that Aunt is long gone.” Although it might do to check the parts of the basement that had dirt floors.

“You still haven’t said you’re not a witch.”

“I haven’t,” she agreed. “But I’m not the sort that eats little children, either.”

The glance he gave her was half wounded dignity and half what she was pretty sure Beryl had meant by “Interesting :x,” though she would have just called it “steamy.” “I’m not a little kid, either,” he pointed out.

“No,” she agreed, and sipped her orange juice. “You’re clearly not.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/304427.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/301572.html. You can comment here or there.

The Princess and the Huntsman, a story of the Aunt Family for the March Giraffe Call

Mar18

For [personal profile] jjhunter‘s Prompt.

A continuation of “Tell me a Story,” (LJ) and “Princesses, Knights, and the Huntsman” (LJ)

The Aunt Family has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

Rosaria was not surprised to see Cady coming around more and more often. When Lily’s mother dropped off her handful of children to “visit Grandma,” there were often a few neighborhood kids in the van as well.

This particular day, it was Cady, Lily, her two brothers, and another friend, a shy boy with old shoes that she hadn’t met before, and yet felt she already knew.

“Gather round, children,” she said, as she did when the group was right, “it’s time for a story.” She had been asking around the neighborhood, trying to discover what Cady’s demon was. She had some clues, but nothing definite yet. Perhaps a story would tell her more.

“Once upon a time,” she began, reaching for the story as Lily whispered an explanation to her brother’s shy friend. Once upon a time, indeed. The threads were recalcitrant today, not wanting to give her a story. Rosaria coughed. “Some water for Grandma, dears?”

Chamus hurried to get her a glass of water, and Rosaria relaxed, letting the story take her where it would.

Not Cady, and not the new boy, no, today it would be Lily. Rosaria drank deeply from the plastic cup her grandson offered, and let the story take control.

“Once upon a time, there was a…”

“A knight?” they asked eagerly. “A Queen? A dragon?”

“A princess.” She smiled a bit as she said it. “There was a young princess, youngest of many princesses but no less beautiful. And this princess had come to fall in love with the huntsman’s son.”

She saw it hit home, and wondered if this tale was supposed to be cautionary. She liked those the least.

“She had fallen for the son of the huntsman, who himself would be hunstman in his turn, a skinny lad who hadn’t yet come into his full growth….”

“Is there a quest?” Cady asked eagerly.

“Hrrm, it seems there is. But we will get there when we get there, dear. The Princess’ parents didn’t disapprove of the match, because they didn’t, yet, know about the Princess’ infatuation. Thinking the Princess was too young, they were blind to the consequences.”

Interesting. Lily was squirming.

“But the young noblewoman herself was not so blind, and neither was the boy she loved, not the Hunstman, his father. They would have, she knew, many hurdles to cross before they could be anything more than distant friends. ” Oh, dear. I thought we had a few more years…

“And so, it seems, the Princess and the Huntsman agreed on a quest.” Rosaria smiled benignly, hiding the worry she felt. “To prove themselves worthy for each other, and for the world.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/301558.html. You can comment here or there.

Voices, a story of Bug Invasion for the March Giraffe Call.

Mar17

For [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith‘s Prompt.

After All in Your Head and Out of Their Minds.

All round, hosts were rejecting their symbiotes. The Earth was rejecting the Bugs. The faeries were taunting the invaders, the ghosts were haunting them; even the Things were fighting off the aliens. Nobody wanted them there anymore. Nobody wanted a creature in its head. Nobody wanted the bugs on their planet.

Nobody, it seemed, except Josh.

^*^They are rej^*^ecting their riders,*^* his symbiote whispered in his mind. ^*^They are kil^*^ling them.^*^ The simple statement came with layers of meaning: We didn’t know they could do that. No race has ever rejected us before. Are you going to reject me? Are you going to kill me.

“They are,” Josh muttered. He was staring at the fence penning them in, holding the hosts close to one another. “They’ve never been alone. They don’t know what it’s like to be left alone with the voices.”

^*^I am a voice,^*^ the symbiote pointed out quietly. ^*^And you do not mind me?^*^

“I don’t mind you. Look, we could get out this way.”

^*^Out? Why Out? This is where the Home is.^*^ The concept for Home in the symbiote’s mind seemed to consist in part of the-family-I-keep-around-me and in part the-place-where-I-sleep.

“Home is… humans have a saying, okay? ‘Home is where the heart is.’ I don’t like this place and, besides, the bugs are losing. Eventually, the humans are going to swarm this place. And they’re already figuring out forced separations.”

^*^I do not want^*^*^ to be sep^*^arated.^*^

“Me neither, buddy. You’re the only voice in here that makes sense.” And, besides, since the symbiote had taken up residence, the other voices had gotten a lot quieter. “And you don’t think I’m crazy.”

^*^You make more sense than most hu^*^mans.^*^ The symbiote fell quiet for a moment. ^*^Not here. Down there. There the fence is thin^*^ner.^*^

“Got it.” Humming to himself, Josh went about making his escape.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/301189.html. You can comment here or there.

Navigating Lannamer, a drabble of RIn & Girey for the Giraffe Call

Mar17

For Rix_scaedu‘s Prompt.

Reiassan has a landing page here.

After “Under Scrutiny”.


Girey followed Rin out into the hallways of the labyrinthine mess her people called an Imperial Palace. “Do you ever loose people in here?”

“All the time. Usually strangers; children learn young to navigate by the mosaics on the floor.” She pointed at the thin green border and thicker red line on the patterns under their feet. “See? This is how I know I’m in the right wing.”

“You follow the floors.” He shook his head, but noted the floors nonetheless.

“We follow the floors.” Despite – or maybe because of – their earlier argument, she was cheerful, smiling at him, dragging her fingers along the stone walls. “And the walls, and if all else fails, the ceilings.”

“The ceilings. You…” He fell silent as, coming on an X-shaped intersection, they could hear another conversation.

“One of my agents swears he saw the Bitrani prince in the market in Ossulund, with a Callenian woman. Are you certain?”

“We executed the Bitrani King in the main square in Arinoss. We jailed every courtier her had and executed those who showed skill with the sira. We’ve taken their support base.”

“But left them their prince.”

Girey hadn’t realized he was grinding his teeth until Rin set her hand on his wrist, just over the bracelet she’d put there. It was one thing to know it, another to hear the elimination of his people discussed like dealing with an infestation.

“If their prince is a captive of a Callenian woman, he’s hardly a threat anymore, is he?” the first voice laughed, as they rounded the corner. “Not in… Lady.” The speaker bowed low, his layered qitari brushing the ground. “Princess Arinyanca.”

“Uncle Esnees.” Rin’s voice was icy. “And I’m sure you haven’t yet met my companion, Girey.”

Next: Sun-on-the-Water (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/301055.html. You can comment here or there.

March Giraffe Call: Spring Cleaning Lyn’s Queue!

Mar17

The call for prompts is now OPEN!

I am now taking prompts on the theme of “Weren’t you going to write…?” Leave one or many prompts, and I will write (over the next month) at least one microfic (150-500 words) to each prompter.

This month’s theme is a little different; it’s an attempt to knock some of the balls out of my rafters (where they get stuck when I have too many balls in the air). Did you hear me say “I want to write about…?” or think I should write more on a story? Now’s the time to bring it up.

Need ideas?
More-Please tag
This discussion of my queue


Prompting is free! But Donations are always welcome.

If you have donated, I will write to one extra prompt of your.

In addition, for each $5 you donate, I will write an additional 500 words to the prompt(s) of your choice.

If I get two new prompters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll).

At $30 in donations, we’ll get take out. Reached!

At $40 in donations, I will post an additional 1000-2000-word fic on the subject of the audience’s choice.
Reached!
At $50, anyone who donated $7.50 or more will have a copy of “Alder by Post” mailed to them if they wish

At $70, I will write two extra 500-word continuations – chosen by prompters picked by random number generator

At $75, we will upgrade our wheelbarrow to an AWESOME CARD

At $100, I will write three extra 500-word continuations – chosen by prompters picked by random number generator

At $130, I will record a podcast of an audience-choice story and post it for everyone to read.

At $150, we’ll upgrade the awesome cart to awesome-cart-with-sides and be able to haul EVERYTHING!< Also I will release an e-book of all of the fiction written to this call.

If I reach $200, I will hold a mid-month Call on a single setting of the readers’ choice. Everyone who tipped will get wordcount-and-a-half

For more information on Giraffe Calls, see the landing page.


Donate below

Art by Djinni!
I also take payment by Dwolla

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/300617.html. You can comment here or there.

Siren Song

Mar16

To Friendly Anon’s commissioned prompt and @Inventrix’s request, the first half of a continuation of Porter Needs a Girlfriend (LJ).

Other than 4500 words on Addergoole-proper, this is all I’ve written in days. It feels weird. O_O Yeah. I’ve been THAT sick.

It wasn’t that Porter minded his friends’ “help” in getting him a girlfriend. After all, he knew that he’d need to get a girlfriend, or at least someone cooperative in baby-making, sometime in his four years at Addergoole. Possibly twice, even.

It was just that they – although he suspected Timora, from the amused, wicked looks she was giving him – kept picking such imposing girls, girls that didn’t seem to smile much, girls that, in some cases, didn’t really seem to even like guys.

He was pretty sure that Timora was trying to mess with his head, he just didn’t know why.

He was also hopeful, because it looked like these dinner dates were working their way down through the Cohorts, which meant, if he was going to have a “surprise” date tonight, it would probably be a Ninth Cohort. And, aside from Timora, none of the Ninth Cohorts he’d met were really at all scary.

“Hey, Kitty, Kitty.” Too late, Porter looked up, realizing that, lost in thought and hurrying to get home for the theoretical Ninth Cohort Dinner Date, he hadn’t been paying attention.

Lots of people called him Kitty. Only one person did it in that unctuous tone of voice, like she was grooming his name.

“Tess.” And because she and her crewmate were never far apart, “Lucian.”

“Hey, Kitty.” Lucian leaned against the wall behind Porter. “Have you had a chance to think about our invitation?”

“Your…” He looked between the two of them, Tess’s green eyes boring into him, Lucian’s close-winged pose deceptively closed, making him look harmless. “Oh,” he smiled, and choked out a little laugh. “I thought that was a joke. I mean, I already have a crew…” And even if Sylvia runs everything, I trust her.

“Ah, but we could really use your power, pretty kitty.”

“So you want me for my doors, not my drawers.” In a way, he was relieved. Tess was a very frightening woman when she wanted something, and Lucian was little better.

Like that laugh. He chuckled throatily behind Porter. “We wouldn’t mind both, would we, Tess?”

Eep. Feeling like he was being eaten with their eyes, he cast around for the quickest Door surface. There was under his feet – but that could have unpleasant consequences. You never knew how far away the floor would be, for one, and it was hard to close the door after yourself.

“Mmm. There’s not much I’d mind with him,” Tess agreed. A quick glance told porter that the scales running down both sides of her neck were shifting color, from “safe” white-and-green to deep red. Her voice was taking on that funny tone to it, like she had a reverb going, and Porter knew what that meant.

“No,thank you.” Sailors of legend had dived over the sides of ships to get to sirens. Porter dived through the floor to escape this one.

He pulled the door upwards, grabbed the handle that was created when he did that, and swung down onto the third floor by the handle, yanking the door shut with his weight.

And then, of course, the doorknob vanished.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/300341.html. You can comment here or there.

Reaching out for the Congregation

Mar12

For flofx‘s commissioned prompt, a continuation of

⛪
The kirkevaren was watching Mirandabelle.

It made her uncomfortable. It made her skin crawl. It made her fingers itch and her shoulders twitch. It made her want to cry.

But she went by the church every day. Every single day, after school, before work, after partying, before she went to bed. Twice some days, three times some days.

She went by because her mother had told her what had happened; because her grandmother had told her mother what had happened. She went because she’d heard the stories and, while this kirkevaren and this priest were innocent – she could see their innocence hanging over them like a halo, like an aura, like a crown – but the church itself, new and hallowed and blessed, the church was not.

She walked the edge of the fence, because the kirkevaren could not stop her from doing that, and she kissed the iron spikes, brushing her snakebite piercings against the metal and accepting the brief burn as her penance.

“Florence Carter,” she whispered to the first pike, “Benjamin Tomes,” to the third. She looked up at the kirkevaren as she said the third name, “Juliander Tempest.” Juliander had been her mother’s mother’s mother. She had died here, died when the church still hunted the fae.

The corpse-lamb stared at her at that one. Every time. Every time, with its dead blue eyes. With its protective gaze.

“My kin died here,” she told it. “My kin and my kind.”

Every day. Every night. School uniform. Club clothes. Work uniform. She looked like a normal kid. She looked like a human kid. But the kirkevaren knew. The corpse-lamb had been guarding the church from fae for centuries, and it came to the work easily again this time.

“My kin died here. My grandmother’s mother. My best friend’s great-uncle. The one they called the Grey Cat. The one they called The Nose. They died ere. They weren’t buried here, no. They weren’t put under your guidance. I won’t be buried under your guidance.”

She told the lamb that every night. Every day. It was three months before she got an answer.

“I can not stop what has already been done.” It wasn’t the lamb, and she nearly bolted when she saw the new priest, Father Nehemiah, standing in the shadows. “I cannot heal the old wounds… it’s Mirandabelle, right?”

“Some people call me that,” she allowed.

“Then I will call you that. Mirandabelle, I cannot help your grandmother’s mother, save to pray for her. I can’t help those this church once failed. But miss, I am not the priest who once stood here, and this church is not the church that once stood here.”

“The hallowed ground is hallowed ground,” she spat. “The land and the blessing was there, and it’s here now.”

He shook his head. “Yes. Yes. But the land has been re-blessed, Mirandabelle, and I would like to re-consecrate our relationship with the fae again as well.”

She ran a finger over the iron posts and listened to the faint sizzle. “With iron and blood?”

“No.” He swung the gate open. “With open doors and a handshake.”
⛪
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/299183.html. You can comment here or there.