Inspired by: Self Portrait by Mark Stewart
“Margaid! Will you get the door?” Grandfather called from the loft, where his writing space was.
“Yes Grandfather!” Margaid shouted back. She handed the rolling pin to Paaie. “Just keep doing that.” She waved a hand at the lump turning slowly into pie crust.
Inspired by Silent Voice II by LeviDansam
Yngve sat, back to the fence, listening to the butterflies scream at one another.
-Hey! Hey! Heeeeeeey!-
-Heeeeey! Hey! Hey!-
He’d seen, before he’d turned around, a strawberry. Full and ripe, nearly the size of his thumb. Blushing like a shy barmaid that had had too much to drink. Continue reading
The last reminder of hope. Light, scattering in long, thin lines across the black ceramic. For a moment she thought it was a spider web.
So she dropped the mug. It went tumbling from her fingers, and she could see the lines of light dancing across the rim as the mug fell. Continue reading
Terriana pursed her lips and helped the rope re-coil.
She pulled out her all-device. “Call the RocketTaxi company.” She said, holding the device between her cheek and her shoulder. She tied the rope to the branch she was standing on and checked her harness again.
Fortunately, the space-giraffe couldn’t peck at her without disrupting its flight. Terriana focused on pretending to be dead, mostly by being still but not stiff, and also by thinking dead-crawler thoughts.
A space-giraffe? Really? On top of everything else, a flying space-giraffe had decided her satchel was a likely looking fuzz-frog?
Terriana sighed and looked up the canopy, trying to judge the time from the play of light on the leaves. Her all-device had, of course, been in her bag.
Part Two, Three, Four
“Are you fricking kidding me?” Terriana said. She watched the space-giraffe fly away with her bag, and thus her school tablet (compete with actually finished homework), and dropped her head back into the mud.