Photo by Eddie Kopp on Unsplash
Walking hurt, but her tattered wings weren’t up to supporting her weight, so on she trudged. Meadowbrook winced, promising herself she could rest when she reached the end of the blight. There had to be somewhere, anywhere, green still lived. Her eyes too dry to cry and water the endless dirt which used to be the grass of her meadow.
(words 60; first published 3/4/2023, from a FB visual prompt for a writing group I belong to – aiming for 50 words)
Photo from Unsplash
“Resolution complete. Matching timeline chronology.”
Go time, Monico thought as their eyes swept the darkened room, the green low-light goggles showing nothing on the infrared. Where is the target?
The AI embedded surgically into their head responded, “Target historically spent more time with their laptop on their back porch than in their bedroom.”
Of course they did.
Monico growled under their breath. They were not dressed to open doors conventionally, especially in this timeline with their stupid round doorknobs. They lifted one oversized glove off their dissolution transport and grasped the small metal at the side of the wooden plank, twisting carefully, having learned the right pressure during previous missions. Gently, after ordering the AI to scale back the pressure-response cycle throughout their mech suit, they pushed open the door.
Camouflage mode, stalking tread.
“Quiet as a mouse,” the AI assured them in a sing-song child voice, “fully activated.”
When did the computer in their head became more human than them?
“Merging-collapse of chronologics loops fifteen through nineteen. With related update 107.3.9.That’s when the magic happen.”
Joy. Four weeks subjective time. Monico slipped down the hallway through the twenty-first century open floor plan, monitoring their progress through the blueprints downloaded. The door in the laundry room, which doubled as a mudroom for the porch had the door open, letting in the crisp early Spring air for the backporch. This early in the season, at least in this timeline, bugs weren’t an issue yet.
Infrared signatures.
“Three heat sources. Laptop, cat, and linchpin.” The AI outlined the large shape marked linchpin, one of the dozen humans anchoring this timeline.
Monico raised their dissolution transporter to their shoulder to remove the human keeping the unwanted timeline functioning. Time to prune.
(words 288, first published 3/4/2023, from a FB visual prompt for a writing group I belong to – aiming for 50 words)
GoTime Series
GoTime (1/1/2023)
GoTime 2 (1/8/2023)
T is for Time (GoTime 3) (4/23/2023)
WRITING EXERCISE
Time for the December 50-word prompts writing exercise.
Quick reminder of the rules: Write two 50-word flashes. Aim for 50 words, give or take five extra words. Don’t read my attempts until after you do your own. Writing them directly in the comment section below will help you focus on the flash aspect – just getting words out.
TEXT PROMPT FOR 50-WORD FLASH: Work
VISUAL PROMPT FOR 50-WORD FLASH
Photo by Luke Ellis-Craven on Unsplash
My Attempts
TEXT PROMPT: Work
“Worth it, let me work it” pounded from the speakers. Franz watched the human mass below. Some women twerking were thicc. Sipping his whiskey, he wondered if anyone would notice if his glass sipped from his fingers. He didn’t get to find outs since his assassin pulled him back from the balcony’s edge. The glass fell to the sticky upper floor.
(first published 12/27/2022; 61 words)
VISUAL PROMPT
Gliding Cliff felt like the edge of the world. Clem breathed deep. Time to try this. After standing, he cracked spine, twisting his head left and right. One last deep breath, the better to scream with if it didn’t work.
He leapt. Come up – open up, open up, open up.
(first published 12/27/2022; 50 words)
Series: 50-word Prompts
Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash
“What is your quest?”
I bit back my automatic reply, “To find the holy grail.” I spent way too much time watching Monty Python in college. Although it had been holding me in good stead since The Event. For a nerd with no exercise except to lift food, I had been doing very well, way better than average, based on the number of corpses I’ve seen.
The woman didn’t move again, so I guess I got to answer with something.
“To find my true love.”
Why not? It’s as good an answer as any and better than some.
The goddess, forest spirit, winter incarnate, whatever the fuck she was changed position, one hand shifting up and another shifting down. Behind her, the winter icescape changed to spring buds and flowers.
“The course of true love is never smooth, but the river runs deep.”
“Um, thank you for that.” I reshouldered my pack watching as the guide shimmered into nothingness before continuing onto the slightly springing ground. My toes were very grateful for the temperature change within the oversized boots I had pulled off one of the other people who hadn’t made it this far into the game. If it was a game. I hoped it was a game.
And now I had a goal for the game. I wonder who or what my true love will be? Zelda or Link?
(words 230 – first published 11/21/2022 – from a picture prompt for a Facebook writing group. Aim is about 50 words)
Photo by Divine Effiong on Unsplash
Rising over the horizon, the blue-white star standing in for the gentle Sol of the homeworld burned off the night fog in moments, making Neelo grateful for his Ozone rings to keep the UV radiation at bay. As long and hard as they have tried, some people still needed to work outside during daylight hours. He snapped on his goggles and went in search for the persnickety goats which had managed to avoid the herding dogs.
(Words 76 – first published 11/27/2022 – from a picture prompt for a Facebook writing group. Aim is about 50 words)