Author Topic: Prompts  (Read 1901 times)  

Offline D. Roman

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Re: Prompts
« Reply #50 on: May 07, 2020, 07:41:32 am »
Today's Prompt


Photo Credit: Mariya

https://pixabay.com/photos/hobby-vintage-sew-girl-children-5114150/

Prompt:  Rachel carefully guided the yellow fabric under the steady bobbing of the needle.  She rubbed her ancient hands and tried to ease some of the ache out of them. She went back to her work, her endless, timeless work.  As the needle rose and fell, lives and people were knitted together.  The job of the Quilter was never done.

D. Roman

Be Well and Keep Writing.
D. Roman





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    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #51 on: May 08, 2020, 05:17:17 am »
    Today's Prompts


    Photo Credit: Peter H.

    https://pixabay.com/photos/factory-hall-crane-industry-5126205/

    Prompt: The agent spread his hands wide.

    "Really, a fixer-upper if you ask me.  You put a little sweat equity into this thing and you'll really have something."

    Sam regarded the space with disdain.  It did fit their budget, but it was rough, really, really rough, but maybe with a little work, they could get the clinic up and running here.


    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing.


    D. Roman





    Offline VisitasKeat

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #52 on: May 08, 2020, 09:03:07 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit - Enriquel Lopez Garre

    https://pixabay.com/photos/landscape-storm-rays-clouds-sky-4961094/

    Prompt:  Storms were the new normal.  At 3:00 PM every day they rolled in.  The winds and rain scoured the land.  The lightning took care of the rest.  You hid or you died. 

    Be Well and Keep Writing.

    D. Roman
    Year 1920, Texas:

    Storms were the new normal. At 3:00 PM every day they rolled in. The winds and rain scoured the land. The lightning took care of the rest. You hid or you died.

    This was unusual in the history of this small town in Texas. Ball lightning was considered a myth; or, at least, very few people had actually claimed to have seen them hitherto. The church considered them as bad omens, as works of the devil, while pilots labelled the foo fighters as UFOs.

    As if the winds and the rains weren't enough, the fireballs poured out of the sky and they exploded on the fields, tore through rooftops, and set houses and buildings on fire. They would smash through chimneys and explode like cannons once the winds and the rains subsided. The folks in town had very little choice but to hide. The fireball rampage would last for exactly fifteen minutes and the town would smell of sulphur after that.

    Gillespie was out of town since these mysterious events were haunting the village, 3 PM everyday, for six straight days. The tall, arrogant cowboy was riding a brand new horse he had purchased at a neighbouring village. He had met some old friends--thugs, all of them--at that place and had spent the greater part of his stay, drinking, gambling, and womanising. Gillespie was a bad*ss cowboy, feared in his hometown where he stayed alone in a dirty farmhouse.

    Gillespie was surprised as he rode into the town by 2:45 PM. And that was because the roads were deserted and the shops were closed; even Brady's Saloon where the boys gathered every evening to drink and brawl as they bragged about their guns and produce.

    Gillespie left the horse in the barn and entered his house. Time was exactly 3 PM. Storms emerged out of nowhere, as usual, and they had started to tear apart the town. The trees swayed as though in booze to the howls of the winds. The numerous little farms and the narrow country roads were fast getting inundated. The front door began to rap even as Gillespie attempted to shut it. And he nearly fell back when the winds slapped the door against his forehead. Startled, Gillespie balanced himself as he bolted the door, once and for all. He peeped through the window overlooking the patio and was surprised by the intensity of the storm. Again, he was surprised to find that he couldn't sight anyone hurrying on the road outside his gate. "Damn, the storm," he fussed, as he dumped his cigar into the ashtray. He crossed the living room and sat at the dining table as he watched the downpour on the window opposite his chair. Gillespie tore a pack of bread and laid a bunch of slices on a platter. He then took a can opener and peeled the sealing of a can of baked beans in sausage. He emptied the contents in a bowl. Next, he got up and heated the bowl in a stove. Side by side, he also toasted a bunch of breads. After a couple of minutes, he returned to his table with the piping hot beans and toasts. Gillespie  sandwiched some beans in between two breads and fed them into his mouth. And just as he got ready to relish the first bite, a crackling sound startled him...

    Gillespie saw a fireball fly towards him. And before he could react, the fireball landed on the platter and exploded. A piece flew and hit Gillespie on his forehead, just above his left eye. He winced as he pushed back his chair, all in an attempt to escape. Gillespie fell sideways and crawled underneath the table when one more fireball flew right past the table. The sound of the explosion was followed by a crashing sound of a photoframe. Gillespie watched the window for a minute before slipping out of the table.

    Gillespie stood up and noted that the storm had subsided, but was shocked to find fireballs raining down the sky. They flew in crazy trajectories as they smashed into buildings. His horse was neighing incessantly, and Gillespie attempted to jump the window and head towards the barn when one more fireball came straight towards him. Instantly, Gillespie jumped left, into a couch. The fireball, however, reversed it's direction at the wall. It curved around as it once again moved towards Gillespie, but he ducked just in time. The fireball moved out of the window before turning back inside, yet again.

    Terrified, Gillespie crept underneath the dining table once again, and, in reaction, the fireball grounded itself as it bounced on the floor.

    Gillespie saw the fireball clearly as it meandered around the table. It was bluish orange and had a diameter of nearly eleven inches. The fireball was shrinking and expanding continuously.

    Gillespie realized that he was clearly trapped. He knew that there was no way to escape the deadly fireball.

    The fireball came closer and closer before stopping at a table leg. It shrunk and expanded even as it intimidated Gillespie.

    Gillespie was petrified. His teeth started clicking and the color was drained off his face. He had never prayed his whole life but now he suddenly started chanting, "Our Father who art in heaven..." 

    A flush of energy and confidence...and Gillespie pulled out the Holy Cross from underneath his shirt and flashed it even as the fireball flew towards his face.

    Lo and behold, the fireball charred right before the cross and black blood oozed out.

    The 3 PM storm and  the ball lightning miraculously stopped in the next two days. The town folks were relieved and happy, especially, Gillespie, who rid himself of all his bad habits after his strange encounter. He became a famous preacher, well known throughout Texas, after that.

     

    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #53 on: May 11, 2020, 08:07:26 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Enrique Lopez Garre

    https://pixabay.com/photos/landscape-lake-night-star-sky-5055384/

    Prompt

    "Tell me a story, Grandpa."

    "Which one?" Grandpa asked.

    "The one about when the stars fell."

    "Ah," Grandpa grumbled, "I suppose."  He took a deep breath and began.

    "On the night the stars fell, everything changed."

    ---

    Be Well and Keep Writing.

    D. Roman
    D. Roman





    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #54 on: May 12, 2020, 04:20:50 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Dimitris Vetsikas

    https://pixabay.com/photos/cyprus-paralimni-ayios-georgios-5147276/

    Prompt

    "That's it.  That's what I want." Tim smiled broadly as he looked at the ancient stone church.

    Megan took a deep breath and looked at the ground. 

    "You want to build a replica of a Cyprian church from the 1800's as your tool shed?"

    "Yeah!  Look at all the room I'll have."
    D. Roman





    Offline VisitasKeat

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #55 on: May 12, 2020, 08:42:32 am »
    Today's Prompt



    Photo Credit: Enrique Lopez Garre

    https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-lighthouse-night-moon-star-5051503/

    Prompt:  Geralt shifted his heavy and elderly form in his creaking chair. He grimaced as he looked at his small group of students perched on their boxes. Fewer and fewer seek out the teachings anymore. 

    "Of course the lighthouses aren't for the boats," he said answering the first question of the day.  "They're for sailors of another kind altogether. And if you work hard, focus, and apply yourselves maybe, just maybe you'll be a lighthouse keeper someday."

    Be Well and Keep Writing.

    D. Roman
    It was the icon of the seashore. Legendary and setup on the highest land point on a massive rocky structure, it was two hundred and eighty foot tall. The lighthouse was the lone structure along the deserted part of the beach, flanked by tough bushes, a row of palm trees, and a building comprising the residence alloted for the wickie. There was also a boatyard and a power maintenance office.

    Geralt Harwood, the wickie, had been light keeping  for the past ten years. He stayed upstairs in the alloted residence. The downstairs of the building served as the office.

    The morning was shiny and bright. The seagulls screeched in the waters at the foot of the rock as they made merry with the numerous lazing seals. The sun added a steady dose of warmth to the office where Geralt was writing on his table as he listened to Otis Redding's "Dock of the bay". He looked at the front door every now and then as he anticipated visitors.

    The visitors were a small bunch of teenagers, all schoolmates, who had been given an assignment by their teacher to visit the lighthouse and write an essay about it. The teacher had booked a slot plus lunch with Geralt.

    Geralt turned off the music and came to the door. He stood and watched the waves for sometime before getting distracted by fresh voices.

    A group of four students made their way towards Geralt. The old wickie smiled at the youngsters -- the expressions on their faces were earnest, as if their noses were attempting to twist into question marks.

    This was not the first time Geralt had given tours of the lighthouse. In fact, he had given tours to adults, even old people, who were charmed by the solitary giant of a cylindrical tower, always part of the beach, but never part of the lounging crowd. These kinds of people were more awed and wowed by the lighthouse than by the bikini clad Baywatch girls. To these people, the lighthouse appealed as a gigantic hero and a protector; a symbol of pride bearing a mystic aura, always lonely and aloof yet kind and caring.

    The students introduced themselves as Patrick, Ryan, Ginger, and Melanie.

    "Good to see you all on this fantastic morning!" Geralt exclaimed in conclusion after he shook hands with all of them. "Where do we start now? You want to come inside for coffee, or, you want to climb up rightaway?"

    "The lighthouse!" they all chorused, their faces beaming with enthusiasm.

    "Good!" Geralt exclaimed, thrilled with their overwhelming eagerness.

    They walked along the shore, dodging sharp rocks, past palm trees, before climbing up the rocky structure. Geralt opened the door to the lighthouse and led the students in. The kids were wowed as they looked upwards in astonishment. Geralt smiled at their excited voices.

    "1, 2, 3..." Ginger counted the spiralling steel bends.

    "20 spiralling bends!" Geralt informed her.

    "Wow! Twenty!" she exclaimed, as she put her palms to her cheeks.

    "You think you can make it to the top?" Geralt asked with a dash of humour.

    "Of course, I can, Mr. Harwood, but I doubt if Melanie and Patrick can."

    Harwood laughed as the gang of four broke into friendly arguments. "Okay, you all have the energy and courage to climb the steps," he said in conclusion. "Let's start climbing! But be careful and avoid inserting your leg in the gaps between the steps." 

    And so, they all started climbing the steps with Geralt following the four.

    "You afraid?" Melanie asked innocently. "Is that why you are the fifth and the last?"

    Geralt laughed. "I'm following you all as I watch your legs, so that you don't trip. And while climbing down I will be the first, again for the same reason."

    They all reached the end of the stairs without any hassle. The kids were surprised that they were staring at a twelve stepped ladder.

    "Mr. Harwood, but I thought I would see the lights here."

    "No, Patrick, you need to climb this ladder and open the lid at top. Again, I climb behind you. Which one of you goes first?"

    "Me."

    "Okay, good, Ryan, and open the lid and just help your friends."

    "Will do, Mr. Harwood."

    In no time they had all climbed the ladder.

    And Geralt closed back the lid.

    "But where are the lights?"

    "Up there, Ginger,"  Geralt smilingly said, as he pointed to another ladder. "But first, this..." He opened a door in the circular platform like space.

    Lo and behold, the kids were overjoyed! And that was because the door led to the balcony.

    The kids were thrilled as they tied their hands to the rush of cold air. The panoramic view was simply fantastic! The roar of the sea, the distant ships, the dotted people on the beach, the toy-like traffic near the promenade. 

    "Now, let's go and see the lights," Geralt said after sometime.

    Finally, the moment they all had been waiting for had arrived. They all climbed the ladder to the next level, to the light room.

    Lo and behold, they saw a giant rotating mirror made of numerous prisms around a source of light. It rotated slowly.

    The kids were stunned at the beauty of the light! They admired the glasswork uttering "Wow!", "Awesome!", "Beauty!", and so on.

    "These are Fresnel prisms, named after a French physicist by the same name," Geralt explained. "And there are three hundred and fifty such prisms. In early days lighthouses used fire and candles but once bulbs came in vogue, the scientists realized that they can maximize the reach in the dark waters. Hence the Fresnel prisms which refract light at its entry and exit points, thereby spreading out the throw of the light far and wide. And since the mirror is nearly fourteen feet in height, the reach in the waters can be as far as twenty five to thirty miles. Our lighthouse also flashes a red light at the far right end, and that is because there are rocks in that region. So, mariners will note that they should avoid navigating in that region."

    The kids spent ten minutes before Geralt lead them down carefully.

    And back in his office, he sat them in a row of chairs, and offered them their lunch boxes.

    The kids whispered seriously as they ate.

    "Any problems with the lunch?" Geralt asked, slightly concerned.

    "Oh no, Mr. Harwood, the food is good, but we have questions for you," Melanie said. "I want to be a lighthouse keeper when I grow up. I want to know for whom the lighthouse is meant. Surely, they cannot be for the boats these days."

     Geralt shifted his heavy and elderly form in his creaking chair. He grimaced as he looked at his small group of students perched on their boxes. Fewer and fewer seek out the teachings anymore. He was glad that these four students were keen.

    "Of course the lighthouses aren't for the boats," he said answering the first question of the day. "They're for sailors of another kind altogether. And if you work hard, focus, and apply yourselves maybe, just maybe you'll be a lighthouse keeper someday. A lot has changed with the advent of GPS and telecommunications. Most lighthouses have merely become museum stuff, but still, they are useful."

    "Useful for what kind of sailors?" Melanie asked.

    "For the poor fishermen who know nothing about technology but still venture into the dark waters in their old-fashioned boats; for shipwreck victims who cling to a piece of wood as they drift through the waves helplessly; for water bound adventurers who had lost their way in the middle, navigation systems having failed them due to severe weather conditions...the lighthouse is for them."

    "But what if they are stranded during daytime? How will they know?"

    "Good question, Ginger! Which is why the tower is painted in black and white stripes. They are known as daylights. Thus mariners can recognise a lighthouse by the patterned stripes." Geralt leaned back in his chair. "You are all very wise for your age. Twelve, I guess."

    "Fourteen," Ryan said. "And I got a question for you."

    "Yessur," Geralt said, as he leaned forward.

    "Can a lighthouse stand in water?" Ryan asked.

    "Of course it can, if the sea is shallow and if there isn't a suitable high point in land."

    "But what if the waters are deep?" Ryan asked.

    "Hmm, in that case, a lightship -- which is a ship acting as a floating lighthouse -- would be the solution. Good question!"

    "But isn't that risky?"

    "Yes, Ryan, it is. Many lightships have been lost to hurricanes."

    "Thank you, Mr.  Harwood!"

    "You are welcome, Ryan!" Geralt looked at Patrick and said: "What happened? You were so chatty when we climbed but have gone silent now. No questions? Feeling tired?"

    "And that's what I was wanting to ask! Don't you feel tired with the lightkeeping job? When do you sleep?"

    Ryan, Melanie, and Ginger laughed.

    "I sleep during the daytime," Geralt said smilingly. "Sometimes I stay awake during mornings if I have to take passionate people like you four for a tour. I lead a different kind of nightlife. No dancing and partying with friends, the way it's for the people in society. I love the company of the giant. I'm a loner in life. Started off poor. Lost my parents when I was your age. No wife, family, and kids. I worked hard to become what I'm today." Geralt quickly wiped off his moist eyes as he attempted to speak in a cheerful voice. "Whenever I get lonely, I go to the lighthouse balcony and just gaze around like you all did. It renders the city life trivial...well, life in general as meaningless, as a toy play, at such a great height. In my career I have rescued seventeen sailors and that is what gives me the greatest satisfaction. At least their children won't meet the same fate as me."

    The telephone rang. "Excuse me, my dears," he said now in a clear voice. "One more booking for a lighthouse trip underway."


    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #56 on: May 13, 2020, 08:48:23 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Gerd Altmann

    https://pixabay.com/photos/house-property-hand-keep-3963987/

    Prompt:  The instructions had been simple enough.  Take the tiny house out of the box, place it on the ground, add water, and step back.  In two to three hours, a fully furnished home would be move-in ready.

    "How do you think it works?" asked Sara.

    Kyle had no earthly idea.  He put it on the ground and dumped his bottle of sparkling water over the tiny roof and marveled as the miniature gutters did their job.

    "No, idea."

    ---
    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing.
    D. Roman





    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #57 on: May 18, 2020, 06:48:32 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit - Hans Braxmeier

    https://pixabay.com/photos/puzzle-pieces-of-the-puzzle-55873/

    Prompt:  Harold read the directions one more time as he wiped the sweat off of his brow.  This is not what he was expecting for an interview.  The new suit and tie itched like crazy and he adjusted his outfit as he read the directions aloud to the empty windowless room he'd been ushered into for the "interview."

    "This interview is quite simple.  If you'd like to meet your future boss simply complete this 500 piece puzzle.  That is all."

    He looked back down at the pieces.  They were all the same color.  He gulped and picked up a corner piece.

    "Got to start somewhere, I guess."

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #58 on: May 19, 2020, 07:49:53 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Diane Olivier

    https://pixabay.com/photos/nature-insect-wasp-nest-summer-2850945/

    Prompt: The pain from the sting had subsided weeks ago, but the transformation had started almost immediately. The reduction in size had been the most startling part.  At first, he'd thought he was just losing his mind, but day by day he was getting smaller.  At this point, he was about four inches high.  The other physical changes had been much more painful, the wings, the extra legs, and the shedding of his skin, but it was the changes to his mind.  His almost unbearable desire to get back to the hive was ever-present. The hive, home, sanctuary.  He had to get there. One way or another.

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #59 on: May 20, 2020, 07:01:49 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Hubert

    https://pixabay.com/photos/the-horse-nature-animals-horses-3679357/

    Prompt:

    Cam spat out his coffee all over the window.

    "Uh, honey.  There's a horse in the yard."

    No, answer. 

    "Theresa! There's a horse outside!"

    Theresa walked into the kitchen in her robe and yawned. 

    "I thought it was coming till tomorrow."

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





    Offline VisitasKeat

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #60 on: May 21, 2020, 05:20:07 am »
    Today's Prompt



    Photo Credit: Jplenio

    https://pixabay.com/photos/london-shard-skyscraper-3598951/

    Prompt: London, like most cities on Earth, was empty.  The process was supposed to be temporary, but humanity had not been allowed to return to the planet for three years.  The moon habitats were thoughtfully designed, but people wanted to get home.  Kyrie frankly hoped they all stayed on the moon.  She liked having the Great Wen to herself.

    Be Well and Keep Writing.

    D. Roman
    Year 2200, planet Earth:

    A world government is administering Earth with Washington DC as it's capital. Science and technology had vastly advanced and made life of humanity extremely comfortable. Wars were almost obselete with the exception of the occassional separatist forces who continued to believe in supremacy doctrines of the past. Peace and prosperity everywhere, humanity was basking in a golden era. That abundance and happiness would soon become the jealousy of a human race from a faraway planet, Arkgon, who, hitherto, had been keeping a close watch on the developments. They decided to invade the Earth.

    War soon ravaged the Earth. The Arkgonians had better military might and were better organized than the soldiers of the Earth, whose aggressive instincts had never been tested in wars for several decades. Naturally, the soldiers of the world government were sloppy in the war.

    As human casualties increased with the progression of the war, advisors to the president suggested shifting a bulk of humanity temporarily to the moon.

    Human settlement in moon had become possible because of the interaction of the oxygen-rich lunar rocks and the hydrogen generated from the solar winds over the past three decades. This prevented photodisassociation, and thus, water became aplenty in the marias which hitherto were massive basaltic lavas.  Moreover, advances in lunar mining which was originally sanctioned by the government for the United States Geological Survey, 180 years ago, during 2020, had resulted in a massive haul of minerals. This had led to a large number of subsequent Apollo missions and other manned lunar expeditions from the then "other countries". The people exploring the moon stayed in areas of lunar rilles, inside lunar lava tubes, which were caves tunneling underneath the lunar surface, each roughly 3 kilometres long and 400 meters in width. The communication systems were set up on the hilly terrains of what used to be volcanic domes, and the moonships were grounded in basaltic plains. Majority of the human settlement was around the Marius hills in the oceanus procellarum region.

    London, like most cities on Earth, was empty.  The process was supposed to be temporary, but humanity had not been allowed to return to the planet for three years. The moon habitats were thoughtfully designed, but people wanted to get home.  Kyrie frankly hoped they all stayed on the moon.  She liked having the Great Wen to herself.

    Kyrie was a separatist, the leader of a fringe extremist group, who wanted London to become a nation, independent from the rest of the world. She had a following of just over 80,000 Londoners. However, they were all very aggressive and hideous in their methods of propagating their extremist literature. They often had secret underground meetings, away from the preying eyes of the detectives belonging to the world-state government of England. Kyrie saw the evacuation of Londoners as the perfect opportunity to create a nation. She waited for the Arkgonians to strike.

    Meanwhile, people relocated to moon were facing practical difficulties. It was not just about food, clothes, and shelter, but the overall lifestyle itself. Most of them were without jobs and were simply bored with nothing worthwhile to do. Their kids' education were completely derailed. Very few men got jobs but those were mostly thankless mining jobs and housing development projects. Most of them missed mother Earth. They grew restless and got into frequent arguments with the authorities who
    kept their hopes alive with false promises.

    And finally it happened.

    On 21st September, 2200, the Arkgonians struck London. The deadly zap-bullets that shot off the fingers of the Arkgonians' alien armours, their only weapons, were to be deflected by special shields. The shields had sophisticated reflecting materials inbuilt that equated the value of the coefficient of restitution to 1. Hence, the fired array of bullets reflected back after a perfectly elastic collision, towards the Arkgonians, at the same speed and destroyed them.

    Ron, the boss of the weapons manufacturing company which supplied this new technology to the world- state government, was a member of Kyrie's secret society. The government was way too dependent on Ron. Hence, this proved to be the perfect opportunity for Kyrie.

    Ron and Kyrie came with a master plan.

    Ron bugged most of the manufactured shields with nitrocellulose that increased the coefficient of restitution to a value greater than 1. He supplied thousands of these defective shields to the government while handing out the good ones to Kyrie's men.

    However, Kyrie wouldn't know that Ron would double cross.

    During the course of the battle, the defective shields exploded in the face of the government soldiers, due to the excess energy as a result of the high value of coefficient of restitution. The government's army was getting nearly defeated when Kyrie's army entered the battlefield. In no time, their shields were deflecting and exploding the bullets on the face of the Arkgonians. All their commanders were killed even as the decimated government soldiers looked at Kyrie's self-styled amature army with awe. Just one more Arkgonian commander was still dictating the battle but his craft too came crashing down.

    Kyrie grabbed the commander from behind and asked Ron to bring along the journalists covering the war. Ron, however, provoked the Arkgonian commander by rushing towards him with his shield. The commander reacted by firing zap-bullets. Ron's shield simply deflected them back. And the bullets exploded on the faces of Kyrie and the commander.

    Later, Ron posed before the media with his leg over the slain Arkgonian.

    He became the war hero and the president of the new nation called London. 




    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #61 on: May 21, 2020, 09:47:55 am »
    Today's Prompt



    Photo Credit - Peter H

    https://pixabay.com/photos/room-space-gloomy-horror-fear-5180253/

    Prompt:  Like all empty buildings, places built to shelter people from the oscillations of nature, this one longed for company.  It was desperately, achingly, lonely.  More than that though, something inside of it had begun to turn.  It had a new sensation, it pondered what the word would be for it, this empty, hollow, ache.  Hunger, yes, that's what it was. Hunger.

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





    Offline D. Roman

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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #62 on: May 22, 2020, 03:15:17 pm »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Valentin J-W

    https://pixabay.com/photos/house-architecture-city-sky-clouds-5148865/

    Prompt

    "Please, let me go."

    Kyle looked out the window and pressed the bat back into his left hand. 

    "Please!" screamed the captive man in the chair.

    Kyle turned back towards the man he had trusted, trusted with everything, trusted with things no sane person would.

    Kyle waked back over the chair and this old friend, this confidant, this person it turns out, he never truly knew, winced at his approach.  The man wincing had been his first call after the birth of his daughter.

    Kyle crouched in front of him. 

    "Dan, Dan, Dan. Dan, you yell all you want.  I own the whole building, but you know that.  You helped me acquire it."

    Kyle stood back up and stretched his back.  He raised the bat back up into the air to deliver another blow. 

    "I have so many questions I need to ask you."

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





    Offline VisitasKeat

    • Status: Jane Austen
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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #63 on: May 26, 2020, 08:56:59 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit - Gordon Johnson

    https://pixabay.com/vectors/trees-landscape-silhouette-forest-5118309/

    Prompt:  Kara didn't remember when the trees turned black and died.  She looked up and stared at them even though it was forbidden.
     She marveled at their dark silhouettes scratching at the daytime sky.   The trees had died but remained standing, stiff, black, and impenetrable.  They stood as a permanent reminder of the world that was. Kara needed to get back to her list.  The medicine wouldn't find itself.

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing.
    They were often spotted in singles or in pairs but never in groups. Not even in threes. The little village that lay in the neighborhood of the forest was never the same. What used to be a happy and prosperous village was now a sight of apathy, fright, and terror.

    Normal activities of the villagers came to a grinding halt, slowly, slowly. The folks were mostly farmers and weavers. Factories hadn't been set up by corporates here as the village folks were mostly self-employed and self-sufficient. Moreover, transportation and logistics wasn't possible through the poorly laid out narrow road which didn't even have a lamp post for night travel. That only road would connect to another village after several miles. Otherwise, the village was flanked by the forest, mountains, and a lake.

    The forest was usually deserted but the woodcutters would encounter the occasional gypsies wandering around. Usually these vagabonds got chased away by the highly conservative and god-fearing villagers, for they found them annoying and suspected them of indulging in occult practices. Hence these gypsies camped in the woods for some days before traveling to the other village. However, some woodcutters would oblige them and even help them with money in return for a fortune telling session.

    During one such session, a gypsy had informed Byron, a woodcutter, about a danger that would consume the village. "What would be the danger?" Byron had asked, to which the old gypsy had talked about the children of the devil making appearances which would spark terror and fright amongst the villagers. "Bad incidents would happen and things would take a turn for the worst." The gypsie woman was in a state of trance--her hands trembled and her body swayed--when she uttered her prediction before fainting right in front of Byron.

    Byron forgot what the gypsy had said after a few days. She and her tribe had even vacated the forest when he went there the next time. He, however, wouldn't know that sinister beings would stalk the village after a couple of weeks.

    One late night, Byron was reading in his living room when he heard a knock on the front door. Initially, he dismissed it as nobody in the village visited each other during these dark hours. However, Byron heard the knock once again. He presumed it could be a scurrying rat or a rabbit and turned towards his book when the knocking came off yet again. Byron got up. Once again, the knocking was heard, but this time more persistent and urgent. Byron tiptoed into the bedroom. His wife, Mary, and his twenty year old daughter, Kara, were fast asleep. Byron closed the bedroom door and went to the window. He opened it partially and glanced outside and saw two kids--a boy and a girl around ten years of age--standing before the front door. It was shivering outside but the kids just stood around with their heads bent. Their clothing appeared ancient and their hairdo appeared weird and clumsy. "Who are you, and what do you want at this time of the night?" he had asked. It was a small village and everyone knew everyone else. Hence, Byron was easily able to ascertain that these kids didn't belong to the village.

    "Hey mister,
    We want water.
    Can we come inside please?
    We'll go away after quenching our thirst."

    Their voices were a metallic chorus, a wavy melodic chant, pausing briefly after each sentence as though they were singing a rhyme. Their voices appeared odd and eerie, piercing through the silent late night hour, but Byron felt compassion as he presumed them to be runaway kids. He questioned them further from the window side, but was puzzled as they kept saying the same thing in an innocent singsong manner.

    "Hey mister,
    We want water.
    Can we come inside please?
    We'll go away after quenching our thirst."

    Finally, Byron opened the door and allowed them in. The lights flickered. The kids entered with their lowered heads and sat on the sofa. Byron closed the door, went to the kitchen, and returned with two glasses of water. Strangely, he felt uneasy as he sat opposite them and offered their drinks. The kids didn't speak but simply emptied the glasses. "Do you want some more?" Byron had asked, to which the two remained silent. Puzzled yet again, Byron asked them once again about their names and where they were from. The kids, however, continued to remain silent with their heads lowered. Byron, by this time, felt an overpowering silence, one that was unnerving and unsettling, but he presumed the kids were utterly frightened and shy, and so, he asked them to at least look into his face and thank him.

    And look, they did, finally.

    The kids were black eyed.

    Byron was spine chilled. Strings of fear soared from his tummy as he hastily stood up and gathered the empty glasses from the coffee table. Profusely sweating, and at a loss for words, he simply retreated into the kitchen with trembling legs and dumped the glasses into the sink before returning back to the living room.

    Everything was as it was but the front door was opened and the kids had disappeared.

    Life changed for Byron from the next day. Problems began to manifest in what happened to be a happy family. There were frequent arguments in the house for no reason at all. Byron became easily irritable and vomited after every lunch and dinner. He suffered from frequent stomach aches. Hitherto a man of good habits, he took to heavy drinking and would often beat up his wife and his daughter.

    One late night, Byron returned home terribly drunk, swung open the front door, and charged towards his wife and daughter waiting for him on the sofa. He dug his axe into his wife's stomach and smashed the head of his daughter, Kara. His wife died on the spot while Kara slipped into a coma. Byron laughed like a mad man as he smeared blood all over his face. He once again encountered the black eyed kids at the porch.

    They had pleaded in the same innocent, singsong manner.

    "Hey mister,
    Take us to the woods,
    And teach us how to chop,
    Give us your axe,
    And we'll learn how to grind."

    Byron followed the black eyed kids into the forest, and there he dismembered the fingers of his legs before cracking his skull repeatedly with the axe.

    Byron's bloodied carcass was found in the lake but the villagers themselves began to experience problems in their lives. They began to encounter strange children requesting things during late night hours, and sometimes even during the dayhours. Nightmares and insomnia became frequent among the villagers but so were murders, infightings, and health issues. Many became blind. Deaths also happened in bizzare ways in the form of suicides with notes written as poetic verses. And none in the village was capable of composing poetry. Water problems began to manifest -- taps dripped foul smelling waters continuously and cisterns overflowed for no reason at all. The lake itself was contaminated with black slug. The trees turned dry and black and the forest appeared as though it had been ravaged by a forest fire.
    Dead bodies floated in abundance in the lake, and they were not just of the villagers but also of dogs, cats, swans, and birds.

    However, crows, hitherto unseen, flew in abundance all over the village.

    Only very few villagers were still alive.

    And Kara was one of them.

    Kara recovered from her coma miraculously, one afternoon. And that was because she had a fascinating surreal dream.

    An old woman wearing a long colourful glass-studded gown, large earrings, and beautiful bangles had touched her forehead and uttered a list of words. She also said that crows were demonic souls and that they shouldn't be looked at.

    She had concluded the dream thus:

    "Remember this list, my dear, and gather them from the woods,
    For the cure,
    It lies in the juices of the roots.
    Grind and squeeze them into the eyes of the ill,
    For the medicine shall heal and rid the demon's will."

    Kara walked towards the woods as though mesmerized. She didn't even bother about the dead bodies, the circling crows, and the disturbing scenario that the village was now.

    Kara arrived at the forest. Here too, crows were hovering, and they were circling the tree tops.

    Kara didn't remember when the trees turned black and died. She looked up and stared at them even though it was forbidden. She marveled at their dark silhouettes scratching at the daytime sky. The trees had died but remained standing, stiff, black, and impenetrable. They stood as a permanent reminder of the world that was. Kara needed to get back to her list.  The medicine wouldn't find itself.

    Kara moved to the foot of the mountain with the list uttered in the dream clearly registered in her memory. As though due to intuition as a result of the good dream, she was able to gather all the herbs mentioned in the list. She carried back dozens of each herb and returned to her house. She ripped off the roots and blended them to extract the fine juice. She then went from one home to another and added droplets of the juice into the eyes of the suffering people. Lo and behold, the blind got vision and the crippled became normal. And the sick turned healthy. Even diseased cats and dogs became healthy and playful. Overjoyed, Kara then intuitively added the droplets to the lake and around the trees of the forest. Again, miraculously, the lake became purified and the trees came to life. And the entire village became it's beautiful old self.

    The hovering crows shed their feathers and dropped to death.

    Black eyed kids were never ever seen again in the village.

    Offline D. Roman

    • Status: Madeleine L'Engle
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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #64 on: May 27, 2020, 09:40:52 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Carola

    https://pixabay.com/photos/robin-bird-songbird-feeding-place-5215950/

    Prompt

    "No, Rebecca, it's fine!  Why don't you fly up here and see for yourself...What's that?"
    Indistinct bird muttering.
    "Oh, I see.  Fine. Fine, we'll do it your way.  Starving to death is way better."

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





    Offline D. Roman

    • Status: Madeleine L'Engle
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    Re: Prompts
    « Reply #65 on: Today at 05:48:54 am »
    Today's Prompt


    Photo Credit: Alexas

    https://pixabay.com/photos/better-world-motivation-encourage-5219880/

    Prompt

    Derek stared at the polite, upbeat, and utterly infuriating multi-colored sign God had left on his desk.  "Make this World Better," it gleefully crowed.  Okay, he got it.  Maybe a planet filled with elephant-sized cockroaches wasn't "ideal," but according to the training, he had total freedom to design it as he saw fit. 

    This was the creator's way of giving "uplifting and inspiring" feedback.  Derek stared back down at the planet he was in charge of and watched the various multi-colored armies of cockroaches launch missiles at each other. Sure, it looked bad, but what's a planet without a little war?

    He watched in horror as a much larger missile took to the air and hit its target ending in a tidy little mushroom cloud.  Okay, it needs some work. 

    ---

    D. Roman

    Be Well and Keep Writing
    D. Roman





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