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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
Part One
Part Two
Inspired by A Well Laid Trap by GaryLaibArt.
The man didn’t come home. The sun crept closer to the horizon, and Ros got more and more twitchy. She would stop what she was doing and walk a few steps toward the hills, as if those few steps could clear her vision, let her see through the earth.
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Part One
Inspired by A Well Laid Trap by GaryLaibArt.
“You take all your clothes off right there.” Ros said, rising to find him some of Papa’s. “I don’t want any of that mud getting on the furs.” She’d have to get the bath out and fill it. The mud had probably soaked into him so deeply it was leaking out of his bones.
She got back from the outhouse with the copper tub to find him stripped and wrapped in a towel.
“King’s Rider?” Papa was asking. “This far west? What for?”
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Okay guys, this is exciting. I’ve got two parts written, but I don’t have the third written. This is part one. Are you excited?! I’M EXCITED!!!
Inspired by A Well Laid Trap by GaryLaibArt.
Anselm had crawled out of the swamp. He hadn’t bothered to scrape the mud off of his face, or rest. The crack of snapping rock as the troll chewed and swallowed had driven him on, far longer then the noise itself had carried. When he had had to sleep, more often then he would like, he crawled up into the moss-covered trees, and pressed himself into the branches.
Needless to say, when he reached the raggedy edge of the swamp several long days later, he was in an ill mood. Continue reading
Dear Thief 