Prompt for August 12: Two Haiku about Something that is False


[Prompt from .]

These words you tell me
Are naught but deadly venom.
They kill me slowly.

The smiles on my sleeves
Are a ruse crafted for you.
Take your punishment.


Prompt for August 11: Someone who is Indulgent


[Prompt from Characters and story from a novel idea: Woodbloom, the first book in the Under the Rose series.]

The place he took me to was literally a hole in a wall behind one of the lower-quality market stands. Through the tears I was still fighting, I saw that strips of fabric had been sewn together to form a make-shift covering of the hole. As we approached, I noticed that the fabric trembled as if moved by a breeze only the air was calm.

At the opening of the cave was a crudely carved sigil; a spiked hand closing around a dagger. I involuntarily glanced at Journey’s left forearm. My suspicions were correct, his tattoo was of the same design, if more intricate in detail than the carving on the stone.

I made a move to pull back the flab but was stopped by Journey’s arm across my stomach.
He pushed me behind him.

“I ask for shelter from those who wish to capture my spirit and frown upon the necessity of my actions,” he intoned solemnly.

I had never before heard his voice take on such a grave quality.

He then reached forward and pulled the fabric aside. Immediately inside the cavern stood two men, daggers poised for action. They nodded towards us as they lowered their daggers.

Journey’s hand was on my lower back, pushing me gently forward into a long, dark corridor. I wanted to tell him that the last thing I ever wanted to do was go into a Thieves Hole without any other Seeker.

But I was just too tired to do anything beyond ask, “What are we doing here?”
He have a dark laugh behind me. “You said you wanted to go someplace safe. Contrary to what you Seekers believe, there’s no safer place in a city than this. We have honor amongst ourselves, you know.”

“Why now?” I whispered. There was light at the end of the corridor. The narrow entranceway had opened into a surprisingly large room decorated in the brightest of colors. There were so many people gathered there, some that looked the part but many that I would never have guessed would be involved. “I’m still a Seeker.”

I turned to find Journey staring down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave me one of his rare soft smiles.

“I’ve seen your world these past few weeks,” he said, just as quietly as when I spoke. “I thought it time you truly see mine.”

Prompt for August 8: Four Lines of Prose about Eyelashes


[Prompt from . Sorry, I went there.]

I watched from the bed as she bent at an odd angle towards the mirror, her butt sticking deliciously outward. She took the—brush? Is that the word?—out of its holder and began to rub it against her eyelashes.

“You look so hot when you put your makeup on,” I muttered.

She smirked at me in the mirror but continued to lengthen her lashes, which wasn’t the only thing lengthening at the moment.

Prompt for August 7: Something that Takes Place in the Salon


[Prompt from .]

No matter what I did, every nasty comment of arrogant look continued to flow in and out of my thoughts. It was a horribly montage, one that I wanted to end as soon as possible.

I couldn’t do this right. I couldn’t do that right. I was too this or not enough of that. Everything I tried couldn’t make him happy; I had lost my own happiness years ago by trying to appease him. But all that was in the past.

“Is this close to what you were thinking?” asked Patricia.

I took a look at the sample she was pointing to in her color binder. I involuntarily reached out and touched the soft strands. I had the urge to shake my head and politely decline. But this was for me, not for him.

“Yes, exactly. And could we go a little shorter than usual?”

Patricia gave me a smile. I’d told her all about my secret desires, ever since my first appointment with her. “Sure thing, Sweetie.”

Out of all the things he wanted out of me, all the things I had to change in order to try and please him, I had only asked Richie one thing: love me always.

Even though I wanted to cut off his hands, and other body parts, deep down I hoped Richie and Kayla would last as long as we did. I wanted Richie to realize that what he wanted didn’t exist, I wanted Kayla to know that she would never be enough for him. That was their own punishment and I would relish in it.

“There you are, Sweetie.” Patricia styled the last few strands before setting her manicured hands on her hips, the comb still trapped between two pink frosted fingers.
“What do you think?”

I stared in shock at my reflection in the mirror. My hair, once long and caramel blonde, which would cascade off my shoulders in perfect curls, now was too short for even the most meager of pony tails. The gel Patricia used made the strands stick on end, spiking the back and adding flair to she short pixie bangs. But the brilliant deep purple brought out the aquamarine in my eyes and gave my usually sickly pale skin an ethereal glow.

Richie would have had a heart attack if he saw me. But I had never been happier when I handed Patricia my credit card.

Prompt for August 6: Something that is Fleeting


[Prompt from . Prompt’s one day late due a lovely date with Netflix and a bottle of wine.]

Youth is a blossom on a tree.
It springs forth from cold wood,
Something magical in its power
And beauty. The brightness overcomes
Drab greys and deep browns.
But winter must come as well,
Bringing the harsh winds and frozen
Touch. One beauty is destroyed,
Only to bring forth another
In its wake.

Prompt for August 3: The Guard


[Prompt from .]

Kieran was both my savior and nemesis.

He had been trained specifically for his duty. One look at his six foot, four inch frame, with his shoulders nearly as wide as an ox’s, it was no wonder he was selected as soon as he joined the brigade. He probably would have done the mandatory five years and then resigned his position, going off into the world to follow whatever dreams held a twenty-two year old giant could hold.

I sometimes wonder what those dreams could have possibly been. Did he miss them? Did he long to finish them when he was too old to be of any use to me?

My eminent birth was what kept him in the brigade, raising him to a position most new initiates could only dream of obtaining.

His frame, his ability to learn, his devotion. These three attributes stole from him his dreams but gained him the honor and status of a life time.

Even though his training made him strong, I have seen him shed a tear or two for me. Even though he could kill any person, I’ve seen him smile every now and then. I know Kieran would gladly give his life to protect me.

But Kieran also stops me from doing anything fun.