Frank the Pug growled “Why in the seven suns of Satornia would I have wings if I wanted to walk!” What his human heard was “bark, bark, grrrrrr, BARK!”
Frank looked around for some means of escape, to feel the wind in his face. Ah, the window was open just a crack. With a leaping twist, he freed himself of the human and bounded for the window, wings flaring behind him. “FREEDOM!” He cried. His head went through, but his wings stuck firmly behind the window frame. “Crap and kibbles” growled Frank.
Faelynn sat by the fire warming her hands. Flames flickered and played in a glorious dance. Soon she joined it, dancing with wild abandon around the fire. She held out her hand and a tiny spark lept to her palm and struggled to life growing until she tossed it back to join the other flames. Control, always she must be in control, lest the fire take her. She had always thought it odd how humans feared fire, she knew some were consumed by it, but she, ah she was made from it.
Mark, Bob and Marie would be the first white folks to ever witness this ancient tribal custom, they watched the white teepee nervously and waited. Their seats were a fair distance from the powwow circle but with binoculars they would have a good view.
“Billy Joe, come help the Medicine Man with his staff. The bloomin’ skull’s come loose again,” called Morning Star inside the teepee.
Billy Joe hastened to reattach the bleached skull.
Morning Star watched her little family and mentally crossed her fingers that tonight’s show would cover the repairs on the old blue truck and maybe supper.
The mummys tomb was dark and damp. Joe had finally rescued Ted from where the Mummy held him captive, having already begun the dastardly process of mummifying Joe’s closest friend. Joe remembered the chase, Ted slung across the Mummy’s shoulder wrapped in the gauze bindings that held him motionless and silent. When they had finally stopped, Joe found a tiny hidey hole, too small for the Mummy to fit into and once he had freed Ted from the magic bindings, they had collapsed there and slept the sleep of the dead. Joe began to stir, there were sounds outside the hole where they lay hidden …
Ash stood tall in the park, watching the children kicking the ball. Her branches still bare from her winter sleep, she stood open to the gentle breeze that bore the slightest chill. She shivered in the coolness, shaking off bits of dead bark and leaves as she plunged her roots farther into the soil, seeking warmth and nourishment. Her neighbors had already begun their own greening, even those infernal Pines looks smuggly greener. Her own greening would come with wild abandon. In the heat of summer the children would seek shelter in her shade. For them she would wait.
Many thanks to John Holton for today’s prompt: Inch
My writing exercise for today:
“Write a 100 word story about a single moment, a conversation at breakfast, a personal decision, an interaction with a stranger. Any single moment focus on the detail of that moment.”
Inch by Inch
Step by step, inch by inch, she crept closer. The moment between one foot coming down soundlessly in front of the other. Her breath was quiet and still. Tiny sounds came to her from the alleyway. A mouse skittering to it’s hole, a moth mindlessly bumping against the globe of the street lamp, the sounds of people coming and going, living and breathing; out of sight on the other side of the darkness. Shadows moved across the ground, clouds passing over the moon high in the sky as her eyes adjusted to the deep gloom of the alley. She waited.