Prompt for May 31: Four Line Poem about Supply and Demand

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . I didn’t have internet this weekend so I apologize for the radio silence and the resulting onslaught of posts.]

How much, you say, for what I have?
Far too much for a guy like you to own.
My skin is ivory, my insides gold,
So run along, boy. Go right on home.

Prompt for May 26: A Fine Line

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

Can I follow you down
Those broken yellow lines,
To a place unknown?

Can I balance between
The past and the last days
Of our life as one?

Can we stay the same
As we once were, when
We could trace the other’s
Face in the dark?

Can I walk with you now
On this fine line of ice
And asphalt, and keep
Ahold of you whilst
Remembering who I am?

Prompt for May 25: Devious

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . Look there! More Alchemic Maiden for my older followers. Sorry if this gives things away!]

Chevalier was beginning to come to by the time I gathered his spare clothing from Syn’s discarded pack and ran back to the tree he was flung into.

Seeing the clothing in my arms, his began to shift back into his human form. I politely looked away until I was certain he was covered.

“Where’s Syn?” He asked, straightening his shirtfront.

“The guards took him. How are you feeling?”

His long russet hair was sticking up at the top and there appeared to be a large knot in the strands near his right ear, but he gave me the same large and obnoxious grin that he did when he first revealed himself to me.
“I’ve been beat up worse than this in a more vulnerable form and lived to tell the tale. What are you doing?”

I had begun to pick through the remnants of our camp. We would only be able to take the utmost necessities with us.

“I’m going to trade myself for Syn. Dominique wants me so he can secure the throne, right? He’ll let Syn go if I give myself to him.” I looked longingly at the portrait of my parents in my hand. I had rested it near the fire the night before, looking at their smiling faces in the flickering light until I was able to slip of into slumber. Even though it broke the small remaining slivers of my heart, I laid the portrait on the ground and went through my meticulous sorting. There! My dagger. The hilt fit perfectly into my palm. “But the good Duke Loic won’t see that I’m not the same ice princess everyone at court thought I was. Not anymore.”

I stashed the dagger into my stocking.

“Vice Duke Loic, you mean,” Chevalier said near my shoulder. “And your plan might not work.”

I stared up at him, searching his face for any telltale signs of humor. I knew Orane trained him with the ability to hide not only his true self, but also everything that crossed his mind. But I would have liked to think that after the time we spent together I knew enough of him to know when he was joking.

He was not joking now.

“What do you mean? I thought—“

“Everyone thought the young Duke had wondered off and been killed one way or another, Syn made sure no one would go looking for him. He thought he would have to become someone entirely different in order to find the answers to the Alchemic Maiden myth. Dominique will not trade Syn for you, Belia. Crown Princess or not, Dominique has no claim to the throne until he is actually the Duke of Loic. And until he kills his older brother, Cyprien Lewsyn Evrard, or the man you know as Syn, Dominique is still nothing but a Vice Duke with no power, money, or claim.”

Prompt for May 23: Four Lines of Prose about Something Overflowing

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . Characters and story from a novel series idea of mine: Hand of Fate.]

I always knew that arterial blood had pressure behind it, that that is why blood draws were aimed at veins instead. But I had no idea how it could just keep pouring out of a wound like the dagger in Evander’s back. Within the time it took for him to fall to his knees, his vest had already darkened, the sun reflected off the wetness blooming around the dagger hilt.

As mesmerizing and terrifying as it was, I wrenched my gaze away from Evander and towards Cris experiencing his own outpouring around the arrow lodged into his chest.

Prompt for May 22: Perfection

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

I don’t remember much from the dream I had last night. There were the usual elements of fantasy: settings that forever changed, flowing into one another like water in a stream; faceless people who you believed you’ve known forever but are really figments of whatever dream world you’ve been caught within; the inexplicable villain that you felt real hatred towards.

But there was also something unique to the dream. The strange man that continued to be a part of it was somehow familiar to me. I remember only my feelings for him; the strength and severity behind the loss of what I knew should be, and once was, mine. That feeling has haunted me throughout the day.

But what I’ve chosen to cling to is the idea that someday we would meet again, that this man that has haunted my dreams for the past seven years will find me at some point, that we will again be reunited and continue our love for each other as if the years apart had never existed.

And that, to me, is perfection. That is the only meaning of life. That feeling and realization is the only thing every person in this world is striving towards.