Tags: prompt: dailyprompt


And Ahead of Me... a story for #Fridayflash, DailyPrompt

I woke alone, I woke blind to the world, and I woke scared.

Those are the things I know about when I woke, and only those, not when nor where nor why I was, or even who I was. I was against a wall, the floor was cold, and I could not see.

And you were not with me. Of course: I was alone. But more than the absence of other breath, other voices in the room was the absence of you.

I found my feet, somehow. I found a stick, a cane, somehow. My body knew the way. I found a door - that was harder - and the sun on my face told me travel west.

But the ache in my gut told me travel east, so east I went.

The bus was going North, so I walked. The police officer that stopped me wanted to take me west, but I talked him out of it. The punks that wanted my money, when they found I had none wanted to take me to their home.

But their home was to the south, so I kept walking anyway. I didn't know where I was going - how could I, when I didn't know even who I was? - but I knew you were there.

"There's nothing to the east," the taxi driver told me. "You can't go there like that." I say taxi drive, like I said punks, because he asked if I needed a ride and told me a price, like the punks grabbed me with hard hands and then handed me back my cane with soft words.

The sun's warmth was gone before I reached my destination, but I could feel the edge of the road with my cane, so I kept walking. Cars would rush by, a gust of wind and a blast of sound, but I kept walking. They'd honk or shout or both, but I kept walking. The night grew cold, but I kept walking.

I didn't know how far I had to go, and I could not see the signs to read them, but I knew you were ahead of me still. There was nothing to do but keep walking, keep walking.

The sun was warm on my face again when a car pulled alongside me. "You can't be here," the woman told me. "The signs say so."

"I'm almost there," I told her, and by that I knew that I was nearly to you. "Only a little longer."

"But you can't be here."

I kept walking. There was nothing behind me, after all, but the dark. And ahead of me was you.

To [community profile] dailyprompt, 2014-09-10:
If I was blindfolded
If my memory was erased
If every sign pointed
to another place
I'd still find you

For #FridayFlash

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/808735.html. You can comment here or there.

Better Left Unsaid, a story for #FridayFlash

"It's the job," she'd say, when Tchaikovsky announced a text. Better not to say someone's dead; they either already knew or they'd never get it.

"I'll be back when I can." She'd step out carrying her go bag and never saying if I survive. If they understood already, it was cruel. If they didn't, it was crueler.

"It was hard," returning, never filling in the gory details, the struggle to pull herself back to humanity, the blood that never totally washed out. If they'd asked, they already knew.

"I've got to go:" never even hinting at the pain of being so close to someone so human.

From [community profile] dailyprompt, 2014-08-21: "things that are better left unsaid".
For #FridayFlash; I wasn't satisfied with my last piece so voila
This riffs off of Entanglement from #3ww

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/803055.html. You can comment here or there.

It's You (#FridayFlash)

From [community profile] dailyprompt, 2014-08-21: "it's always you."
For #FridayFlash - it's Friday somewhere!

It's you. It's always you.

I stand up, I answer the door. I don't bother to look through the peephole anymore, because it's always you.

4:35 p.m., every day. I get up, I answer the door. I take the package, I mutter thank you, and I close the door. There's always a package. There's never a conversation.

I open the package, of course. It's from you, and it wouldn't do to ignore it. Flowers, food, socks. I unpack it all carefully. Blue socks, because it's me, tie-dyed and organic, because it's you. It's very you.

It's always very you.

I put away all the presents, very carefully. I eat the food, slowly, savoring every bite. I put on the socks - my feet are cold, so cold. You always know what to get for me. That's very you, too.

When I'm done, I throw out the packaging. It wouldn't due to leave it sitting around. I make sure to put the box in the recycling. You'd like it better that way.

I try very hard not to notice that yesterday's box isn't there. Recycling, I tell myself. Like my feet are cold because the socks were missing this morning. Like I have a vase for the flowers, even though I only have one vase.

The doorbell will ring again tomorrow, and I'll answer the door. It will be you. It's always you.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/784514.html. You can comment here or there.

The Daily Grind

From [community profile] dailyprompt, 2014-08-14: "I've never met anyone like you.

She'd sit down. She'd buy a drink and then, after a moment's consideration or an hour's, she'd buy him one too.

She'd slowly lose the tension that held her shoulders stiff, as she even more slowly sipped her second drink, or her third.

And he'd wait until he saw that tilt of her head, and he'd wander over, nursing the drink she'd bought him. He'd slide into a seat, just so, letting her grope him with her eyes until she'd had her fill. He'd sip his drink like he was making love to it, until her eyes filled in the blanks.
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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/776006.html. You can comment here or there.

Locked In, a story for Trope Bingo/Bonus Round

This is to [personal profile] rix_scaedu's prompt to my [community profile] dailyprompt here.

This fills the "locked in" square in the Trope Bingo Card.

Names from Fourteen Minutes' generator.

“All right. This is looking bad.” Richan frowned at the door.

“Looking. Looking.“ Cathuyet shook her head. “I'm not sure looking bad is the phrase you're looking for.”

“Would you shut up and let me work?”

“No. No, I won't. And I'll tell you why.” She pushed the lantern into her partner's hands. “Because we have twenty-five minutes to get out of here. Failure is in no way an option.”

“I know, I know.” Richan paced around the room for what had to be the seventieth time. “There could be another way out.”

“There is most definitely another way out.” Cathuyet's voice was level, but she wasn't paying her partner much attention anymore; she had a small ball of light floating over the lock mechanism and was tapping at things with a tiny hammer. “I can think of at least four.”
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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/673910.html. You can comment here or there.

He Couldn't Fail, a microfic for the Daily Prompt

This is to stryck's prompt to this bonus-round call to the [community profile] dailyprompt prompt "I can't fail."

It would probably have come out better if I knew anything about football... sorry.

There was a witch in the stands. There had to be.

Ernie was trying to miss throws. He was trying to fumble the ball. He'd even tried to run into the opposing team's biggest guy: in short, he was trying to fail, because if he didn't...

There had to be a witch in the stands.

He grabbed at the point of the ball and suddenly found the whole thing in his hands, threw it haphazardly, and found it flying true towards his teammate, tripped into the opposing team and ended up getting in their way just enough to tangle them up.
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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/656850.html. You can comment here or there.

Exhaustion, a story of the Aunt Family for the Bonus Round/Bingo

This is to [personal profile] kelkyag's prompt to my [community profile] dailyprompt here.

This fills the "exhaustion" square in the January Bingo Card.

This is either a different branch of The Aunt Family or an earlier/later line.

Warning: death.

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/650776.html. You can comment here or there.

Closing Up, a story for the Bonus Round (@rix_Scaedu)

This is to rix_scaedu's prompt to this bonus-round call to the [community profile] dailyprompt prompt "the end of an era."

The sign out front said "Closing! Everything Must Go!" It brought people in like nothing else ever did.

Vultures, Tama thought, but, like vultures, they served a purpose. They picked the last otherwise-useless things off the bones, for one, leaving a nice, tidy skeleton. Nature's disposal system.

"Excuse me? Excuse me, miss, this Hunnel statue. It's a fake, you know, right?"
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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/646061.html. You can comment here or there.