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Thank you everyone who participated in last month’s Prompt Request.

I had seven prompters and wrote the following pieces based on their prompts:

• The Palace Will Shortly Be Making An Announcement;
• Artifice;
• An Instructive Conversation;
• Next Moves ;
• Early Morning Reflections ;
• On The Night Of Disguises ;
• An Angel With A Message;
• The Man With The Bucket ;
• Foreign Holiday ;
• Career Testing and Recruitment;
• Dancing And Meeting His Friends;
• Rescue By A Halloween Witch;
• The Mail Is In The Cheque ;
• The One Night Of The Year;
• Kitchen Magic;
• Déjà Vu ;
• Balancing Unfairness;
• The Odd Kid Out;
• Discussion And Declaration;
• Interaction Between The Learned Oligarchy And The Theocracy ;
• A Step Into The Unknown;
• The World Makers; and
• Never Meant.

Because I wrote over twenty pieces to prompts I wrote two backgound pieces:

• The Road To War: a background piece for the October Prompt Request ; and
• The Atlanteans: a short background piece for the October Prompt Request.

Thank you again everyone who prompted and commented.

For unknown reasons the ancestors of the Atlanteans, also known as the mitochondrial haplogroup L7, migrated west to the Atlantic coast of Africa instead of taking the northern route out of the continent.  They lived there for a relatively short period of time, the Casa 5 site has the longest period of habitation discovered from that period at just under one hundred years, and then they crossed the ocean to reach Atlantis.  The abandoning of the African settlements has been dated to 110,000 Before Current Era (BCE).   No archaeological record of their people remains in Africa from then until the beginning of their First Colonial phase.

Atlantis was fertile with abundant resources.  What we have of Atlantean writings describing their early homeland depict an earthly paradise.  However there were sufficient challenges that they were driven to develop tools and weapons rather than remaining stagnant.  The seismic event that destroyed Atlantis put all archaeological evidence for the long period when the Atlanteans were confined to their continent at the bottom of the mid-Atlantic trench.  However by the time the Atlanteans began establishing their first colonies on the Atlantic shores of the other continents they were generally more advanced than the peoples they met there and they excelled in the skills and sciences of metallurgy, crystallography, piezoelectrics and biological modification and manipulation.

The Atlanteans did suffer some initial colonial failures and it is telling that in his memoir Nga!mbe gave revenge against the savages as one of the reasons for his first African expedition.  However by 4,000 BCE the Atlanteans dominated the African Atlantic coast.  From there they spread north to the European coast and west to Arawak Coast.  Settlements beyond the coastal fringes and in the north western Atlantic were tied to the locations of strategic and luxury resources, the emerald mines on the Itoco being a case in point.

The Atlanteans did not found any colonies east of the Pillars until 1,000 BCE however Atlantean trade goods have been found in Egyptian sites dating back to the First Dynasty, Mycenaean sites and in the iron trading settlements of Noricum.  Evidence indicates that they also conducted gunship diplomacy with the Han.  This attitude was typical of their dealings with other peoples and no doubt contributed to the rapid dissolution of the Empire after Atlantis was destroyed.

I wrote this to aldersprig's ninth prompt.

“You know the outcome we want,” they told me.  “Work out where that could happen.”

So I sat down at my desk and worked backwards from the outcome they want to figure out why it might happen.  That led me backwards through speculative past parallel history until I reached a point in real history.  Then I typed it all up, corrected the spelling errors and handed it in.  After that I went back to my desk, sat down, neatly arranged my floral skirts and read Hannibal.

********************

“We need this to happen,” they told me.  “Plot out how this will work.”

I did what I always do when they say that, I sat down with a pen and paper and scribbled my way back through effects to get the causes, worked out all the back stories and finally found a point where my invention and history matched.  Then I put into the computer, ran a spell check over it and submitted it.  After that I got myself another coffee, sat at my desk in my pencil-skirt suit and read Tacitus.

********************

The great lords came for me at midmorning as I worked in my family’s fields, telling stories to myself as I did so.  Too many stories in my head, that’s why I have no husband – no man wants a wife with as many strange things in her head as I have.  They surrounded me on horseback, swords drawn and looking outwards, while one of them dismounted and grabbed me, turning my head by the chin to get a good look at me.

“This is her,” he announced to the others.

“Finally!”  That was one of the others.  “Pass her up and we’ll get out of here.  Looks like the farmers are getting restless.  I heard shouting as I was bundled up in front of one of the great lords but it soon passed into the distance as they galloped off with me.

Once they had me in their stronghold I was bustled into a room with a table, a chair, vellum and writing implements, like the ones the priest uses for the parish registers.  “We need things to change,” they told me and then they told me how they wanted things to be.

I looked at them blankly and asked, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Work out how the world needs to be to make that happen and write it down for us,” one of them explained.

I protested, “My lord, I can’t read or write!  I’m a peasant farm girl!”

“Damnation,” one of them swore.  “One of us will have to scribe for her.”  So I went through the stories in my head, found the ones they needed and a great lord wrote them down for me.

********************

I woke in my husband’s arms and I remembered everything, all the past versions of my life.  He was awake already and I saw from his eyes that he remembered everything too.  I thought through the memories of this version and I said, “This seems like a good life, my lord General, perhaps we could just live this one out?”

“I think madam wife, even though this is not what we asked you for, there is much to be said for that,” and then he kissed me.

I wrote this from aldersprig's eighth prompt.

“Why would anyone put a stone circle underground?”  Orac shone his torch around the chamber.  The circle was already lit by arc lights but the torch brought up patterns on the stones that weren’t obvious in the direct light.  On the far side of the chamber the professor and the graduate students were animatedly discussing something.

“Either to protect it or hide it.”  Jena was shining her torch at the lintel stone they had to pass under to do the rough survey they’d been assigned.  “There’s writing on this one, in Fae.  Dehru.”

“What’s it mean?”  Orac could speak three human languages and a little elven but he didn’t know Fae at all.

“It can be door or doorway but it really means entrance to or exit from.  There’s a second word up there too, but I can’t read it.”  There was an annoyed shout in their direction from the professor.  “Sounds like we should get on with it.”

“Yeah,” Orac agreed.  “Us undergraduate scum should get on with the scut work shouldn’t we?”  They walked under the lintel together.

And the world twisted around them.

They were no longer in an underground chamber and cold, blue stars burned in the dark sky above them.  Around them the boundless land was flat, rocky, and better illuminated than they would have expected by starlight.  They both turned and found there was nothing behind them, not even footsteps.

“Where are we?’’  Orac was whispering, he didn’t know why.

“How should I know?”  Jena was whispering.  “That circle was actively magical?  I’d have thought the professor would have checked for that.”

“It was all a bit rushed, us going out there, wasn’t it?”  Orac was thinking on his feet.  “And very precise about when we had to be where.  Almost as if we were slipping in past a guard rotation or something.  Maybe we weren’t supposed to be there at all.”

“Now that’s likely.”  The two students turned again at the sound of the strange voice.

He was male, dressed in black and appeared to be a decade and a half older than themselves.  There was a sword with a silver hilt on his left hip and if that wasn’t strange enough his black-feathered cloak was moving without a breeze, as if it were alive.

“Sir?”  Jena was wide eyed and pale faced.

“This is the backend of the universe, where the gods and their ilk do maintenance on the world.  Humans shouldn’t be here but you just came here through a door.”  He grinned at them.  “I probably shouldn’t be here either, but I am so they gave me the job of keeping this place tidy.  It’s nice to have some company sometimes.  So,” he gave them an assessing look, “you can come with me or you can stay here to look for food, water and a way home on your own.”

“Why should we trust you?”  Orac was trying not to be very afraid.

“I’m the only game in town, boy, and I promise I’m not trying to make you dead.  Be kind to a lonely, old Fae and be my companions.”  He spread his hands disingenuously.  “It’s not like I’m asking you to join my Court.  Forever.”

I wrote this to technoshaman's paid extension to Balancing Unfairness.

Monday morning before school was always going to be when the ultimate analysis of the prom was going to be held.  Not everyone had made it to the after party and some people hadn’t even made it to the prom itself.  Lourdes Alvarez had been excluded on school attendance grounds by a late change in the eligibility rules, Donny Jones had broken an arm in the shower and spent the evening in the emergency room, while Brian Stevens had spent the evening there too struggling with the aftereffects of his grandmother’s raw egg mayonnaise.

Donny and Brian were being filled in by their pals when Lourdes arrived.  She was often late, her home responsibilities saw to that, but not today.  Mary-Kate grabbed her as soon as she arrived and dragged her over to a group that was mainly prom organising committee.  “Tell us how your night was,” begged Mary-Kate.  “Rosaria who works for my mother promised me that she and your grandmother had organised something for you.  What was it?”

“My grandmother?”  Lourdes was astounded.  “All right, but only if you tell me about the prom first.”

“The highlights then,” Mary-Kate nodded.  “The Larsen twins spiked the first bowl of punch with booze, which Lewis Peters warned us about.  Unfortunately Mr Collins had two large glasses of it when he arrived because he was thirsty, before we could get it swapped out.”

“So Mr Collins was drunk at the prom?”  Lourdes was incredulous.

“Very.”  The other girls nodded agreement.

“And every time he had something to drink, even tap water,” chimed in Katherine, “he just seemed to get drunker.”

“He was rude to Miss Gulliver and Janet,” went on Mary-Kate, “so Lewis told him to pull his head in.  Miles found him throwing up in the men’s room halfway through the night and then he couldn’t get a recognisable word out when he was supposed to give his speech.  At the end of the night Mr Halloran had to take his car keys off him.”

“Miss Gulliver caught Melanie and Tiffany making out in one of the back corridors of the auditorium,” added Ellie.  “She told them she had to enforce the rules, no matter what the gender, so no lip-locking, no pelvis grinding and back out into the main area with them.”

Lourdes asked, “Was that why Mr Collins was rude to her?”

“Naw,” Kaylee’s response was a drawl, like everything else she said.  “This was way before that.  Now tell us where you went.”

“I’m not sure where it was,” admitted Lourdes, “but I was picked up a gentleman who had a carriage and driver.  He acted like he was my uncle or something, all dressed up in top hat and a really good suit.”

“Hang on,” interrupted Mary-Kate, “A carriage, with horses?”  The other girls murmured appreciatively.

“Well,” Lourdes answered truthfully, “they certainly looked like horses to me.  The ball was at some grand old house I’d never seen before and there was a receiving line,” no need to mention type of language used by those who were receiving the guests.  “I even got a dance card!”

“So, who’d you dance with?”  That was Ellie.

“I’ve got the card at home but I don’t remember all the names,” she admitted.  “It might have been fancy dress too, which made it a bit confusing.  I danced with a man in a Confederate cavalry uniform who had a Virginian accent, a black boy about our age from New York in a Union uniform, a man dressed like a 1930’s gangster who had an Italian surname, and there was some college boy who was wearing a borrowed jacket.  There was a lot of rum punch and I might have gotten tipsy.”

“Not as tipsy as Mr Collins!”  Her friends grinned at each other.

Lourdes dropped her best piece of news as the buzzer went off for rollcall, “Oh, and I’ve got a date with Jaime Ortega from St Sebastian’s debating team next Saturday night.”

Kaylee summed it up, “Cool!”

I have written this to lilfluff's fifth prompt.

Harry was on the floor.  The other sixteen year old boy was astride him, pinning him to the ground with ill intent.  He hadn’t gotten on with Shu Wan when they started school together and they still didn’t get on.  Reasonable people didn’t attack you when they were visiting another master’s gi school with their own master but it seemed that Shu Wan and his companion, Goh Jun, weren’t reasonable.  They were guests and even a foreigner like Harry knew there were things you couldn’t do to guests despite provocation.  Shu Wan was pulling back his hand in a two-pronged gesture of the fingers that was probably going to be an attack on his eyes.  Their masters taught different schools of gi so Harry wasn’t sure what it might be but it wasn’t going to be good.

“Ha Ri,” that was Master Won pronouncing Harry’s given name as he always had, as if it were a two word local name, surname and given, “you may fight back and you may hurt him.”

Palms flat on the floor underneath him, Harry bucked with his body and Shu Wan flew off while Harry proceeded to flick himself onto his feet.  While the other boy was scrambling to his feet with an indignant scowl, Harry erected the barrier to contain the energies they were playing with around them.  Then he sent an air blast at Shu Wan’s chest.  The other boy didn’t dodge and staggered.

Shu Wan’s response crossed with Harry’s next air blast but instead of dodging Harry blocked and the fireball spread out across the shield of dense, spinning air.  Frustrated, Shu Wan leapt across the floor to get at an unprotected angle, making Goh Jun dodge out of his way in the process.  Harry brought up a second, full length shield as he did so and then sent out another air blast to where he thought Shu Wan was going to wind up.  In the background Harry could hear the two masters saying something to each other but that wasn’t what he was paying attention to.

Shu Wan was pulling his arm back in a punch-like manoeuvre that was obviously going to do something, when Master Won declared, “Enough!”

The visiting master, Master Ling, added, “Shu Wan, be still!”  When his student complied and lowered his arm he added, “Master Won, I have seen enough thanks to my…student.  I will endorse your recommendation to the Illustrious Board of Referees that they accept Ha Ri for training.”

I wrote this to aldersprig's fifth prompt.  It is followed by When Déjà Vu Stops.

The bases, theirs and ours, are always the same.  Ours are always thrown up in the most defensible spot we can get within striking distance of their lines and facilities.  Heavily manned, heavily defended and heavily patrolled.  The transit accommodation is always shitty and I’m always in transit accommodation because I’m always visiting, never assigned.  It’s been so long since I had somewhere I could call my own for more than a few weeks to go back to at night…

Their bases are always the same too.  Same layout, same defences, same manning.  Sometimes it feels like they’re all manned and defended by the same people.  You’d think that after we’d taken down a few of these things the enemy would change the way they do things, even if word hadn’t gotten back to their commanders of how their bases fell.  Taking these things out is what I do and, frankly, it’s gotten to the stage where it feels like something’s wrong with the whole setup.

I’ve said as much in debriefs and been told that I’m obviously in need of leave.  They say that but the leave isn’t forthcoming.  There’s always one more enemy base that needs my specialist skills.

Which is what got me sent to Harthalong.  This base was different, it was bigger.  Much bigger.  The powers that be didn’t just send me, they sent Han, Murchison, Holmes, Ikawa and Ngana as well.  Like I said, this place was bigger.

Naturally the intelligence briefing couldn’t tell us the half of what we wanted to know.  To be fair, it wasn’t their fault, they’d thrown all the surveillance kit they had at this place and lost most of it.  Their best shots of the interior behind the defensive wall came from an already shot down drone that had, by a fluke, retained camera and transmission until it hit the ground.

We were working out our plan of attack in a small, locked briefing room when we got a call from our base’s CO to come and see something.  Something relevant.

It was an enemy commander, under a flag of truce.  He smiled when we came into the hall where the meeting was being.  “Good,” he said.  “You have not underestimated the problem that lies before you.  I recognise these as your warriors who have surpassed themselves in the training facilities we provided.  Now you face the true enemy and I have brought information which will be useful.”  He held out a data chip.

I wrote this to ysabetwordsmith's third prompt.

My family’s been superheroes for about as long as anyone’s been using that word.  We’re famous for upholding truth, justice and whatever.  I like the rule of law myself.  They do spread in the newspaper of the family tree with portraits but they never include me.  I‘ve got what’s called an aberrant power, completely unlike anyone else in the family.

When my powers came in, just before I hit my teens, my parents pulled me out of school and got me private tutors instead.  They said that was easier with my powers but sometimes I think they did it because they didn’t want anyone to know what I am or to connect me with them.  Some of those tutors were pretty unexpected too, I think I’ve been inside every super power holding facility in the country including the underground one at Nyngan.  Apparently aberrant powers can lead to ‘sub-optimal’ career paths.  They can also make people forget a few important things.

Tonight’s the big family Halloween fancy dress party.  All our associates are invited and the people whose good will we need.  It’s a big deal and I’ve been planning my costume for this year’s party for months.

When you’re in our line of work, it’s surprisingly easy to get body stockings that include full hands.  This one I had custom made in a colour that matches the theatrical skin tone makeup I’ve applied to all my exposed skin.  Over the body stocking I put on a leotard and a tutu.  Ballet slippers on my feet and the makeup on my face is as natural looking as I can make it, given that lipstick, eye shadow, blusher, eyebrow pencil and mascara are inherently unnatural.  A brown wig in an up-do, adorned with a tiara that matches the choker I’m wearing to cover the transition from body stocking to makeup.

I like the result when I look in the mirror.  If you don’t look too hard at my eyes, I look like a pretty good ballerina, if I say so myself.  I double check that I haven’t missed any of the invisible skin on the back my neck and I admire the regularity and symmetry of my own features now the makeup I’m wearing makes them visible.

Tonight I want my family and friends to look at me and see a girl, not The Skeleton.

I wrote this to lilfluff's third prompt.  It follows on from On The Night Of Disguises and is followed by Trick or Treat?

“My son was attacked and bitten by a rat when he was small,” Tybalt Grimolochin explained to the two teachers dressed as witches.  “He still fears them.”

“My Dad killed it,” squeaked up Joe, nervously holding his father’s hand, “but the others got away.”

“Rats are nasty, aren’t they?” cackled his kindergarten teacher, Elvira Madden, as she kept in character.  “Perhaps we can find a treat in our cauldron to help make you feel better?”

Her friend and fellow pretend-witch, Dorothy James, started their lorum ipsum inspired chant while Elvira stirred in the cauldron with her ladle, making sure she got one of the ‘prizes’ nestled in the bottom into the ladle’s bowl.  Joe politely accepted his chocolate frog and added it to his bag along with the jelly snakes and other treats he’d collected so far then went to the next room of the ‘house’ clutching his father’s hand.

It was dark by the time the teachers were able to leave and Elvira was glad to be out of her makeup.  She said goodbye to Dorothy as they climbed into their cars and then turned right onto the road while Dorothy turned left.  Instead of going home though she almost immediately turned into the club car park commonly used by parents visiting the school.  Sitting in the middle of the car park, completely alone except for a child in a lion costume and a tall man, was a small sedan.

She pulled up beside them and said, “Is there a problem?  Can I help?”

Tybalt Grimolochin smiled at her but he looked worried.  “We got back to the car and found that someone’s slashed our tires and sealed all the movable panels with what looks like silicone sealant.  I’ve called the NRMA and a taxi but neither has turned up.”

Elvira frowned.  “That’s not a prank, is it?  Look,” she unlocked her car, “you two get in and I’ll drive you home.  It’s a good thing I saw you or who knows how long you might have been here.”

“Thank you.”  Tybalt ushered his son into the back seat and climbed in beside him, doing up both their seat belts.  Elvira locked the doors again and moved off.  Tybalt went on, “We’re up in Ferndale.  If you take us up Dog Trap Road to the three way corner, I’ll give you directions from there.”

“Okay,” and Elvira turned out of the car park in her original direction.

Behind them, in the beautification plantings surrounding the car park, red eyes glowed in the dark.

I wrote this to ysabetwordsmith's second prompt.

Andy was on his way home.  He still had a few HSC exams to go and he was studying, really, he’d just gone for a walk to clear his head and get some exercise.  The late afternoon was turning to early evening as he passed a house where a group of kids were saying “Trick or treat!” to the person who’d just opened the door.  It was, in his opinion, a silly attempt to import an American custom.  That particular bunch of kids weren’t even dressed up in costumes, they were just going around to people’s houses and knocking on doors to ask for lollies.  Just because they did it on American TV shows didn’t make it a good idea to do it here.  It was just plainly the wrong season for the day of the dead for a start.

There was also the issue of what the Elf might think of it.  The Elf had taken over this city, the biggest city in the country, by making it snow where snow didn’t belong and things were different now.  It wasn’t clear where he stood on stuff like that.  There were a few new rules, most of which didn’t affect Andy or people like him but one of the ones that did had gotten his sister a job.  If you were registered for unemployment benefits you had to take a job if he gave you one.  Sally was working on a nightly food truck now that catered for the homeless near the city centre.  She swore blind that one of the guys she worked with was a troll.  Apparently he dealt with any ‘trouble’.  Working all hours of the night in dodgy places, Andy was glad she had someone to deal with any ‘trouble.’ 

The two girls his own age seemed to come out of nowhere.  They were giggling and talking to each other in a language he didn’t understand as their hands plucked at his clothes.  They laughed more as he tried to swat their hands away.  A group who seemed to be their friends were around them now, preventing him from walking away, and they were laughing too.

Finally he snapped at them, “Lay off it will you two?  This isn’t funny.”

There was something short and sharp said by a man in the language the girls were using and the two girls stopped grabbing at him.  The group around them parted to let in a tall man who was probably the same age as Andy’s father.  When he spoke it was in English but it was the voice that had stopped the girls, “You can see them?”

That seemed an odd question.  “Well, yeah.”  Andy was putting his clothes back where they ought to be and snatched his handkerchief back from the girl with the longer hair.  “It’s not like they and the rest of your friends are invisible.”

“What is your name, young man, and what do you do?”  The man had a neatly trimmed, greying beard and a vaguely European accent.

“Andy Spencer and I’m doing my HSC.  Why do you ask?”  Andy was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

“That’s the big end of secondary school exam isn’t it?”  When Andy nodded, the stranger produced his wallet and pulled out a card which he handed to Andy.  It proclaimed him to be Petr Turchanikov of Team Four.  The address was a few streets over in a light industrial area.  “I work for the Elf.  Come and see me when your exams are over, we have a lot to say to each other.”

“Okaaaay.”  Andy wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to follow this up.

“Andias, no it would be Andrew here, wouldn’t it?  Andrew,” the man sounded extremely firm, “come by the end of the second week in November or I will send someone to get you.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”  Turchanikov was almost smiling.  “Now go home, you should be inside before it gets dark.  Tonight you should stay home and inside.  If you must leave the house, do not leave the property, do you understand?”

“Uh, no?”  This was a little weird.

“You will after we have our little chat at the end of your exams, now if you will excuse us, we must be going.”  The man nodded and the group moved on.  The last Andy saw of them was one of the girls looking back and waving at him, her hand passing through a garden shrub that intruded onto the footpath.

Suddenly he really felt like going home.