Prompt for January 17: The Investment


[Prompt from . I’ve had a few prompts saved in an email from one of my class days that I’m just now getting around to posting. Sorry.]

My heart is made of bronze:

A hardy sort of build meant

To withstand much. Strength

To those whom have it.


My heart is made of silver:

A prized token of wealth

And protection. To have

It is to control the world.


My heart is made of gold:

A sparkling, beautiful thing

Envied by many. To have

It is to rise above all else.


My heart is made of iron:

A tool for creation and

Progression. Ingenuity
To those whom have it.


My heart is a special thing:

One that can create, protect,

Strengthen and enlighten.

It is worth your investment.


Prompt for January 9: Four Lines of Prose about the Alchemist


[Prompt from . Characters and story from a novel idea entitled Alkimic Maiden]

I tried to tell myself over and over the same words my father taught me to keep the tears at bay; that I was in control of my emotions and could silence them at will. But when I saw all his blood and bruised flesh, all because the guards had attempted to take me back to Dominique Evrard, the only words that passed through my mind were what if he had died?

So I let the gold tears roll down my face, uncaring if Syn saw them.

“It’s you,” I heard him whisper, “By god, you are the Alkimic Maiden!”

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


[Prompt from . 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 March 16: The Treasure


[Prompt from .]

Before me stood two chests, both easily capable of being a man’s final resting place. The one on my right was gilded in gold while the one at my left was clad in silver. I tentatively reached out a hand and lifted the golden lid.

In the low light of the cave, I could see everything in world, both known and unknown, that could glitter. There were gold coins from every era, stamped with every kind of face and symbol would could link to power. Gems ranging in value from the size of a fingernail to that of a fist were dispersed, looking like pieces of a shattered rainbow. I saw rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and opals. There were pieces of onyx, lapis lazuli, amethyst, pearl, and garnet. Anything you could barter with, spend, and horde was dimly glowing before my eyes.

Many greedy palms would consider that chest as the Horde of Nations. But I knew better. I knew that before gold reached its value, silver was in fact more treasured. Thus, I turned my galloping heart towards the second chest.

Whereas the other chest gleamed, this one simply sat there in its glory. There were pages upon pages of script, scattered to and fro in no conceivable order. There were curly scripts, jaunting scripts, strange symbols and patterns I could not decipher. I saw the jet black strokes of relatively recent ink on a handful of the pages I leafed through, though the vast majority had faded to a light grey or a muddy red.

The gold chest was the decoy, meant to entice the easily persuaded with a quick fame that would no doubt leave them dead in a ditch by the very people they always longed an acquaintance with. The silver chest was the true Horde of Nations.

Knowledge has always been, and always will be, the greatest wealth of all.