"House burned down. Car stolen. Cat exploded. Did 1500 easy words, so all in all it was a pretty good day."
- Neil Gaiman
|1. Prompt: Bravado||2. Song: Never Gunna Be Alone||3. Style: No dialogue||4. Starting sentence: “Two knocks echoed through the hall. Not the habitual three, but two.”||5. Prompt: Campfire|
|6. Quote: “No matter how careful you are, there's going to be the
sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that
you didn't experience it all. There's that fallen heart feeling that you
rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying
attention.” -Chuck Palahniuk
|7. Prompt: On the go||8. Picture:||9. Prompt: Strange||10. Quote: "Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we
don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors
and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of
witherings, of tarnishings." -Anais Nin
|11. Prompt: You & me||12. Starting sentence: “Smirking, she turned and walked away.”||13. Style: Letter||14. Song: Marchin’ On||15. Artist’s Choice|
Poison Apple Dreams
“My fairest love! Did you sleep the sleep of a thousand tiny angels?”
Snow White glared at the prince, who beamed unfalteringly back at her from the far side of the breakfast table.
( “Please stop calling me that,” she said.Collapse )
A Case of Survival
She wasn’t a femme fatale. In fact, she was a fairly ordinary woman of medium height, with her hair in long, neat braids. I wouldn’t have looked twice at her if I’d passed her on the street. Then again, I wasn’t a very good private eye, so I couldn’t exactly expect the universe to bow down to me in favour of literary conventions.
“How can I help you?” I asked, indicating that she should sit down. She clutched her handbag on her lap.
“It’s my husband,” she said. “He’s cheating on me.”
“Ah,” I said. My heart sank. Adultery. Just good old-fashioned lust. Lost objects, lost children, minor protective magic – that was more my thing. I hated the whole cheating spouse deal. It all seemed so sordid. As a matter of principle, I should have turned it down. I had opened my mouth to say as much, when my common sense kicked in.
I was living out of my office because I couldn’t afford two sets of rent. Over the last week, I’d been surviving exclusively on a cheap generic equivalent of Jungle Oats. The only real meal I’d had was when my friend and tragically-unrequited-one-true-love Erica had taken pity on me and bought me a burger. A veggie burger, because she was like that. I literally couldn’t afford to take the moral high ground on anything.
Greed wrestled with professional pride. It was a very short match. Pride was on the mat before it had a chance to do more than shout exaggerated threats for the benefit of the crowd.
“Tell me about it,” I said, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.
Hey, sordid or not, it was either that or eviction. Even wizards need a place to sleep.
The police weren’t in the habit of employing specialist services – and it had already been made clear to me that I would be receiving only a very small consultant’s fee – but some enterprising young police officer had Googled “Johannesburg magic detective”, which was how I’d ended up being called in to investigate.
I’d spent the last few weeks loafing around and watching old episodes of The Mentalist and eating chips, thereby adding sloth and gluttony to the already long list of things likely to send me to hell. Not that I could afford to be too worried about that – after all, witchcraft, as I understood it, was pretty high on the no-no list.
Gods aren’t are cool as you might think. There are the big ones, who deal with thunder and love and death (anything you could convincingly write an opera about), but then there are the others…
“The god of Documents Lost by Home Affairs?”
“And the gods of Gerbils, Car Keys, and Small Talk with Acquaintances,” the client repeated.
“And they’re planning?”
( Jo'burg's magical energy was out of whack...Collapse )