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sidewaysTitle: Put On A Show
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Ambiguous fantasy
Remarks: 100words prompt - decadent
“Extravagant,” she says, scolding.
He spins an elegant circle: head thrown back to bare the loop of necklaces around his throat, arms curving over his head to let thick rows of bracelets glitter in the light. The silk brocade hangs too loose across his shoulders. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Hn. True enough.” Something catches her eye; she separates the ring from the pile on the end of her knife, squints assessment. Diamond, she thinks: hard, cold and practical. Scrubs it against her tunic, smearing the blood before it dries and crusts in the fittings. “Got us in the door.”
◘◘◘
Title: Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Modern
Remarks: 100words prompt - family of choice
Pale blue, like lightning’s edge, catches the frame of her face with each profile she passes on. Red hair, wide lips. Swipe. Blue eyes, pointed chin. Swipe. Oh, similar nose – and house-sharing with four other students. Swipe.
There’s an ache building in her hand by the time she finds him. Curled hair the right shade of brown. Long jaw. Glasses, even. A good age, a steady job, a fondness for German beer and rugby. When she holds her phone next to her face in the mirror, their smiles stretch along the same angle.
“Well, hello…” She pauses. Considers. Decides. “Brother.”
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Title: Futile Response
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Sci-fi
Remarks: 100words prompt - fever
You’re focusing on the symptom, little sister. Look for the disease.
Take in city-fires, heatflash silhouettes on cracking concrete, air thick enough to swim through – then look up.
Skim the storeys, to save time. Punch-clock routine and punch-clock comforts, then someone pulls the clock apart to rework the wiring. Breezes set to circulate bliss, bare feet on marble, glitter-eyed mermaids in the water. Fat, fleshy gardens, I hear. Fruit ripening to rotten.
Pretend you can look up to see the lights. Prayer-capsules and god-engines, encoding wishes and wants. Satellite smitings from orbit.
Then look up…
Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Ambiguous fantasy
Remarks: 100words prompt - decadent
“Extravagant,” she says, scolding.
He spins an elegant circle: head thrown back to bare the loop of necklaces around his throat, arms curving over his head to let thick rows of bracelets glitter in the light. The silk brocade hangs too loose across his shoulders. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Hn. True enough.” Something catches her eye; she separates the ring from the pile on the end of her knife, squints assessment. Diamond, she thinks: hard, cold and practical. Scrubs it against her tunic, smearing the blood before it dries and crusts in the fittings. “Got us in the door.”
◘◘◘
Title: Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Modern
Remarks: 100words prompt - family of choice
Pale blue, like lightning’s edge, catches the frame of her face with each profile she passes on. Red hair, wide lips. Swipe. Blue eyes, pointed chin. Swipe. Oh, similar nose – and house-sharing with four other students. Swipe.
There’s an ache building in her hand by the time she finds him. Curled hair the right shade of brown. Long jaw. Glasses, even. A good age, a steady job, a fondness for German beer and rugby. When she holds her phone next to her face in the mirror, their smiles stretch along the same angle.
“Well, hello…” She pauses. Considers. Decides. “Brother.”
◘◘◘
Title: Futile Response
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Sci-fi
Remarks: 100words prompt - fever
You’re focusing on the symptom, little sister. Look for the disease.
Take in city-fires, heatflash silhouettes on cracking concrete, air thick enough to swim through – then look up.
Skim the storeys, to save time. Punch-clock routine and punch-clock comforts, then someone pulls the clock apart to rework the wiring. Breezes set to circulate bliss, bare feet on marble, glitter-eyed mermaids in the water. Fat, fleshy gardens, I hear. Fruit ripening to rotten.
Pretend you can look up to see the lights. Prayer-capsules and god-engines, encoding wishes and wants. Satellite smitings from orbit.
Then look up…
Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.
