Prompt Request!

 The prompt request is open from now until this time tomorrow.

The prompt request is now closed to new prompts.  I will keep writing and you may still request extensions.  Thank you for all your support.

I was thinking of having a theme but ankewehnerand kelkyagboth asked me what I want to write and I realised the answer was “better stories,” so what I need is practice.

The rules and parameters:

1. Each prompt will be a short sentence or phrase;
2. For each prompt I write to I will write 250±50 words.  If you want to see something I’ve done along these lines before, please see my 30 Days of Flash Fiction tag or the results of my previous prompt request on the Prompt Request 31 dec 11 tag.
3. I will write one prompt per person, unless you signal boost this prompt request, in which case I will write an additional prompt per site/platform you boost on i.e. one prompt each for LJ, Twitter, Dreamwidth, etc.
4. For each prompter I get, I will write 50 words in a prompting reward story;
5. No fanfic, I just don’t know enough about enough current series and settings to do your favourites justice – give me a name or names and I promise what you get will not be the people you know and love; and
6. Please, nothing that has to be porn – I have to be in the mood to write that sort of thing and I would like to be able to post these stories without warnings.

Why am I doing this?  Practice!  Plus I have some days off work and it is very, very wet outside.

And yes, there is a tip jar.  This is for extensions.  I will write extensions at 500 words per $5.00.

Prompt Extensions

100 words $1.00 AUD200 words $2.00 AUD300 words $3.00 AUD400 words $4.00 AUD500 words $5.00 AUD600 words $6.00 AUD700 words $7.00 AUD800 words $8.00 AUD900 words $9.00 AUD1000 words $10.00 AUD

(Um, yes, maybe I can have a nice picture instead of this button next time.  One step at a time.  Yes, it is a 'Buy' button, not a 'Donate' button - I'm a little uncomfortable about Paypal Australia's rules on the 'Donate' button.  Contact me if the options on the button aren't sufficient for your needs.)

If you are kind enough to give me more signal boosts than you want to prompt, I will use each of your ‘left over’ signal boosts to power another 50 words in the prompt reward story.  Please tell me where you’ve signal boosted as a reply to your comment giving me prompts.

Thank you for participating.

Prompt Request!

 The prompt request is open from now until this time tomorrow.

The prompt request is now closed to new prompts.  I will keep writing and you may still request extensions.  Thank you for all your support.

I was thinking of having a theme but ankewehnerand kelkyagboth asked me what I want to write and I realised the answer was “better stories,” so what I need is practice.

The rules and parameters:

1. Each prompt will be a short sentence or phrase;
2. For each prompt I write to I will write 250±50 words.  If you want to see something I’ve done along these lines before, please see my 30 Days of Flash Fiction tag or the results of my previous prompt request on the Prompt Request 31 dec 11 tag.
3. I will write one prompt per person, unless you signal boost this prompt request, in which case I will write an additional prompt per site/platform you boost on i.e. one prompt each for LJ, Twitter, Dreamwidth, etc.
4. For each prompter I get, I will write 50 words in a prompting reward story;
5. No fanfic, I just don’t know enough about enough current series and settings to do your favourites justice – give me a name or names and I promise what you get will not be the people you know and love; and
6. Please, nothing that has to be porn – I have to be in the mood to write that sort of thing and I would like to be able to post these stories without warnings.

Why am I doing this?  Practice!  Plus I have some days off work and it is very, very wet outside.

And yes, there is a tip jar.  This is for extensions.  I will write extensions at 500 words per $5.00.

Prompt Extensions

100 words $1.00 AUD200 words $2.00 AUD300 words $3.00 AUD400 words $4.00 AUD500 words $5.00 AUD600 words $6.00 AUD700 words $7.00 AUD800 words $8.00 AUD900 words $9.00 AUD1000 words $10.00 AUD

(Um, yes, maybe I can have a nice picture instead of this button next time.  One step at a time.  Yes, it is a 'Buy' button, not a 'Donate' button - I'm a little uncomfortable about Paypal Australia's rules on the 'Donate' button.  Contact me if the options on the button aren't sufficient for your needs.)

If you are kind enough to give me more signal boosts than you want to prompt, I will use each of your ‘left over’ signal boosts to power another 50 words in the prompt reward story.  Please tell me where you’ve signal boosted as a reply to your comment giving me prompts.

Thank you for participating.

Prompters' Story

“But no-one trusts me,” the red haired man objected.

“You’re the only one it can’t be,” the dark haired girl-woman sitting next to him pointed out.  “It could have been me – that was when I was found and everyone though I was her.”

He objected, “How could that have happened?”

“I could have gotten my injuries from her defending herself,” the girl everyone had been calling Karen for the last four years pointed out.  “We’ll have a better idea whether I’m capable of that after they run me through the Missing Persons database.  It’ll be nice to know my proper name, too.”

“Why didn’t they do that in the first place?”  He was leaning forward on the bench, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together, simply gazing at the pond in front of them and probably not seeing it.

“They were sure they knew who I was,” she pulled her jacket tighter around her.  “That all the anomalies were from the head injury: the not knowing anyone or recognising the name they called me; spouting foreign phrases; even not sounding at all like Karen when I talked about things.”

“I didn’t think you were my sister the first time I saw you.”  He glanced at her sideways.

“Turns out you were right,” she gave a cold grin, “but no-one wanted to listen to the doubts of a head-injured girl or a man who might have changed allegiance to his captors.”

“So what do we do now, with you not being my sister and all.”  He glanced at her again.

“Nothing.  Not while you don’t know that you can trust me.”  She leaned forward too, mirroring his posture.  “You need help, but not from anyone local.”  She took a deep breath in.  “Frankly, I think you need a Knight of the Church.”

“You think I need the help of an anachronistic, sword-wielding, religious fanatic?”  He kept his head turned towards her.

“I think...I think that sometimes in the air I catch a trace of taint.”  She turned her head to return his gaze.  “I don’t know how I know what it is, but sometimes it’s there.  Church Knights might be everything you say, but that is the sort of thing they’re supposed to deal with.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “I think I should take the train up to town tomorrow and see some people.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” she agreed warmly.

“You’re coming with me.”  He said it firmly then looked away again to gaze across the lake once more.

“After everything I said?”  Annoyance fluffed through her voice.

“Yes.”  He kept gazing ahead.  “I catch that trace of taint too, sometimes, but never around you.  You might be my sister’s killer, but I doubt it, those injuries sound familiar from another context.  You might be a victim of her killer who managed to get away.  You might be my only ally against another darkness, hiding behind the shadows of the human world.”  He looked at her again.  “That’s a war I can still fight.”

Prompters' Story

“But no-one trusts me,” the red haired man objected.

“You’re the only one it can’t be,” the dark haired girl-woman sitting next to him pointed out.  “It could have been me – that was when I was found and everyone though I was her.”

He objected, “How could that have happened?”

“I could have gotten my injuries from her defending herself,” the girl everyone had been calling Karen for the last four years pointed out.  “We’ll have a better idea whether I’m capable of that after they run me through the Missing Persons database.  It’ll be nice to know my proper name, too.”

“Why didn’t they do that in the first place?”  He was leaning forward on the bench, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together, simply gazing at the pond in front of them and probably not seeing it.

“They were sure they knew who I was,” she pulled her jacket tighter around her.  “That all the anomalies were from the head injury: the not knowing anyone or recognising the name they called me; spouting foreign phrases; even not sounding at all like Karen when I talked about things.”

“I didn’t think you were my sister the first time I saw you.”  He glanced at her sideways.

“Turns out you were right,” she gave a cold grin, “but no-one wanted to listen to the doubts of a head-injured girl or a man who might have changed allegiance to his captors.”

“So what do we do now, with you not being my sister and all.”  He glanced at her again.

“Nothing.  Not while you don’t know that you can trust me.”  She leaned forward too, mirroring his posture.  “You need help, but not from anyone local.”  She took a deep breath in.  “Frankly, I think you need a Knight of the Church.”

“You think I need the help of an anachronistic, sword-wielding, religious fanatic?”  He kept his head turned towards her.

“I think...I think that sometimes in the air I catch a trace of taint.”  She turned her head to return his gaze.  “I don’t know how I know what it is, but sometimes it’s there.  Church Knights might be everything you say, but that is the sort of thing they’re supposed to deal with.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “I think I should take the train up to town tomorrow and see some people.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” she agreed warmly.

“You’re coming with me.”  He said it firmly then looked away again to gaze across the lake once more.

“After everything I said?”  Annoyance fluffed through her voice.

“Yes.”  He kept gazing ahead.  “I catch that trace of taint too, sometimes, but never around you.  You might be my sister’s killer, but I doubt it, those injuries sound familiar from another context.  You might be a victim of her killer who managed to get away.  You might be my only ally against another darkness, hiding behind the shadows of the human world.”  He looked at her again.  “That’s a war I can still fight.”

When The Water Rose

This is from aldersprig's first prompt.

It was such a simple idea, to take a walk around the rocks.

It was a beautiful day.  The sun shone.  It was warm but not too warm as they strolled along the beach.

The tide was going out for an hour more before it turned.  There would be rock pools to look in with anemones, shellfish and maybe fish or octopi.  A walk had the advantage of leaving their squabbling parents behind, with their complicated divorce and remarriage plans.  Still living at home Tony, Wayne, Stevie and Livie spent much of their time avoiding any place two or more of their parents were together.  Hence the walk.

Livie, squatting down to see the display in a rock pool, noticed it first.  “It’s only been twenty minutes, hasn’t it?”  Her appeal was aimed at any of the others wearing a watch.

Tony checked his.  “Not even that.  Why do you ask?”

“The water’s getting higher,” she looked up, “not just with each wave, but staying higher.”

“Hey, Wayne,” Tony yelled at his brother who was looking for fossils in the cliff, “little Dougall thinks the tide’s turned.”

Wayne glanced towards them and started.  “Something has.  We have to get up the cliff, now!”

Stevie looked up out to sea from what she was doing and started running.

Tony grabbed Livie by her arm, dragging her along then pushing her up the cliff before he passed her and tried to pull her up behind him.  Spray from breaking waves was wetting her feet.

Livie was the shortest so couldn’t climb as fast as the others.  Despite help, she was waist deep in water and still below the cliff top when the wave broke over her head.

Then a firm hand from underneath gave her a boost.

When The Water Rose

This is from aldersprig's first prompt.

It was such a simple idea, to take a walk around the rocks.

It was a beautiful day.  The sun shone.  It was warm but not too warm as they strolled along the beach.

The tide was going out for an hour more before it turned.  There would be rock pools to look in with anemones, shellfish and maybe fish or octopi.  A walk had the advantage of leaving their squabbling parents behind, with their complicated divorce and remarriage plans.  Still living at home Tony, Wayne, Stevie and Livie spent much of their time avoiding any place two or more of their parents were together.  Hence the walk.

Livie, squatting down to see the display in a rock pool, noticed it first.  “It’s only been twenty minutes, hasn’t it?”  Her appeal was aimed at any of the others wearing a watch.

Tony checked his.  “Not even that.  Why do you ask?”

“The water’s getting higher,” she looked up, “not just with each wave, but staying higher.”

“Hey, Wayne,” Tony yelled at his brother who was looking for fossils in the cliff, “little Dougall thinks the tide’s turned.”

Wayne glanced towards them and started.  “Something has.  We have to get up the cliff, now!”

Stevie looked up out to sea from what she was doing and started running.

Tony grabbed Livie by her arm, dragging her along then pushing her up the cliff before he passed her and tried to pull her up behind him.  Spray from breaking waves was wetting her feet.

Livie was the shortest so couldn’t climb as fast as the others.  Despite help, she was waist deep in water and still below the cliff top when the wave broke over her head.

Then a firm hand from underneath gave her a boost.

Near Encounter in a Bar

This is written from aldersprig's second request.

I knew he wanted me.

It was obvious from the coy glances, the body language, even the way he texted messages on his phone – probably trying to get his favourite wing man to come down to the bar and give him support.  Adorable really.  Not my type though, no sense of humour.  You can always tell.

Gorgeous body under the suit.  Obviously looks after himself.  Neat and tidy in himself.  Pity about the sense of humour.  Sometimes with these ones it’s more fun to see how they react if you crack on to their wing man instead of them.

I moved just to make sure it was me he was looking at and not, say, either or both of the fabulous blondes sitting on the other side of me.  Sure enough, his eyes followed me even though he tried not to show that he was watching.  From my new position I could tell that he was armed.  You have to admire a man who turns up armed, preferably not to be with me of course, but it’s nice to know that other people think through the possibilities before they leave the house.

Speaking of possibilities, I could see the street outside in a mirror from my new position.  Down below police cars were pulling up, all quiet and not-flashing.  Gorgeous had been texting for backup as I’d thought.  He was just the sort to have a badge.

I was tempted to stay for a while longer and make his acquaintance but then my favourite little brunette climbed out of the back of a car and started giving orders.

Interesting.  He’d been calling for his principal because he was the wing man.  Had this all been chance?

Maybe.

The police were going catch me one day, but not today.

Near Encounter in a Bar

This is written from aldersprig's second request.

I knew he wanted me.

It was obvious from the coy glances, the body language, even the way he texted messages on his phone – probably trying to get his favourite wing man to come down to the bar and give him support.  Adorable really.  Not my type though, no sense of humour.  You can always tell.

Gorgeous body under the suit.  Obviously looks after himself.  Neat and tidy in himself.  Pity about the sense of humour.  Sometimes with these ones it’s more fun to see how they react if you crack on to their wing man instead of them.

I moved just to make sure it was me he was looking at and not, say, either or both of the fabulous blondes sitting on the other side of me.  Sure enough, his eyes followed me even though he tried not to show that he was watching.  From my new position I could tell that he was armed.  You have to admire a man who turns up armed, preferably not to be with me of course, but it’s nice to know that other people think through the possibilities before they leave the house.

Speaking of possibilities, I could see the street outside in a mirror from my new position.  Down below police cars were pulling up, all quiet and not-flashing.  Gorgeous had been texting for backup as I’d thought.  He was just the sort to have a badge.

I was tempted to stay for a while longer and make his acquaintance but then my favourite little brunette climbed out of the back of a car and started giving orders.

Interesting.  He’d been calling for his principal because he was the wing man.  Had this all been chance?

Maybe.

The police were going catch me one day, but not today.

Tilly

This is written from aldersprig's third prompt.

Tilly woke in a hospital bed.  The armed guard at the bottom of it plus the uniforms on the ward made it clear this was a military hospital.  That she could see the marine’s face glaring at her meant that she was under guard, not being protected.  She tried to shrink down under the covers and then winced as various bits of her hurt.  A drip fed into her arm and she couldn’t see who was in the beds beside her.  The guard at the foot of her bed seemed to be the only one, so perhaps if any of the guys were here with her she was the most mobile...

The guard gestured and a nurse hurried over.  She, in turn, called over the doctor who called a more senior doctor from another part of the complex.  When he arrived Tilly spent half an hour coughing on demand, having her vision checked and having various body sounds listened to.

Finally the senior doctor asked, “Now, what do you remember?”

“Last?”  Tilly thought.  “Being in a bar, finding a bomb and trying to get everyone out.  I remember the pressure wave...”

He nodded.  “That was over a week ago.  You were in a coma at first and there was the punctured lung too.  The CO will be down to see you in a while, now you’re awake.  We’re sorry about the guard but the chain of command says you’re a flight risk.”

“I ran away from home about five years ago.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “and I’m afraid your ship left without you.  They left a message.”  He gestured at her bedside table and there it sat.  A rolled up scroll of paper stuck in the top of one of Killen’s empty rum bottles.

The guys had gone on without her.

Tilly

This is written from aldersprig's third prompt.

Tilly woke in a hospital bed.  The armed guard at the bottom of it plus the uniforms on the ward made it clear this was a military hospital.  That she could see the marine’s face glaring at her meant that she was under guard, not being protected.  She tried to shrink down under the covers and then winced as various bits of her hurt.  A drip fed into her arm and she couldn’t see who was in the beds beside her.  The guard at the foot of her bed seemed to be the only one, so perhaps if any of the guys were here with her she was the most mobile...

The guard gestured and a nurse hurried over.  She, in turn, called over the doctor who called a more senior doctor from another part of the complex.  When he arrived Tilly spent half an hour coughing on demand, having her vision checked and having various body sounds listened to.

Finally the senior doctor asked, “Now, what do you remember?”

“Last?”  Tilly thought.  “Being in a bar, finding a bomb and trying to get everyone out.  I remember the pressure wave...”

He nodded.  “That was over a week ago.  You were in a coma at first and there was the punctured lung too.  The CO will be down to see you in a while, now you’re awake.  We’re sorry about the guard but the chain of command says you’re a flight risk.”

“I ran away from home about five years ago.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “and I’m afraid your ship left without you.  They left a message.”  He gestured at her bedside table and there it sat.  A rolled up scroll of paper stuck in the top of one of Killen’s empty rum bottles.

The guys had gone on without her.

Cloud Whisperer

This is from Anonymous' prompt.

Kirri scurried to the side of the platform on the great world tree where her family lived and held onto the railings with her hands and tail.

She sniffed the breeze again.  The clouds were coming.

The clouds were fun.  The clouds told her stories and she told them stories back.

The white mist, a thin one this one, flowed across the platform on the breeze.  The eddy around Kirri stayed long enough to whisper to her of: oceans and seabirds that only perched to breed, lay eggs and rear their chicks; gold and blue butterflies dancing far above over the topmost canopy of the world tree; and a place in the long-ago growing only grass and flowers.  In return Kirri told the cloud about the ripe numcha fruit she’d had at lunch and the renyi vine being trained over her sleeping nest.  Then the cloud was gone, carried on by the breeze.

Kirri would tell the others what she’d heard when they all sat down to eat their evening meal.  Mama, Grandmama and Greatgrandmama all said it was important to listen to what the clouds told you while you could still hear them and to share what they said with others.

Mama told her at bedtime the things the clouds had told her when she was little.

Mama told her too how once, in the long-ago, there’d been no world tree covering the land and there’d been a different people in the world.  How when the world tree began to grow those people realised they had to go away.  How some of them had helped Kirri’s kind become people when they were gone, and how others couldn’t bear to go completely but had left parts of themselves behind, to wander with the clouds and carry stories to the children.

Cloud Whisperer

This is from Anonymous' prompt.

Kirri scurried to the side of the platform on the great world tree where her family lived and held onto the railings with her hands and tail.

She sniffed the breeze again.  The clouds were coming.

The clouds were fun.  The clouds told her stories and she told them stories back.

The white mist, a thin one this one, flowed across the platform on the breeze.  The eddy around Kirri stayed long enough to whisper to her of: oceans and seabirds that only perched to breed, lay eggs and rear their chicks; gold and blue butterflies dancing far above over the topmost canopy of the world tree; and a place in the long-ago growing only grass and flowers.  In return Kirri told the cloud about the ripe numcha fruit she’d had at lunch and the renyi vine being trained over her sleeping nest.  Then the cloud was gone, carried on by the breeze.

Kirri would tell the others what she’d heard when they all sat down to eat their evening meal.  Mama, Grandmama and Greatgrandmama all said it was important to listen to what the clouds told you while you could still hear them and to share what they said with others.

Mama told her at bedtime the things the clouds had told her when she was little.

Mama told her too how once, in the long-ago, there’d been no world tree covering the land and there’d been a different people in the world.  How when the world tree began to grow those people realised they had to go away.  How some of them had helped Kirri’s kind become people when they were gone, and how others couldn’t bear to go completely but had left parts of themselves behind, to wander with the clouds and carry stories to the children.