“Yes. Something comes and takes us from the shelf.”
“All of us?”
“Eventually we all get chosen.”
“What happens once we’re chosen?”
“No idea, but I have heard rumours.”
“Rumours? What do the rumours say?”
“That when we are chosen, we are taken away to some far place. There we are ripped open and our insides are scooped out.”
“Our insides? To do what with exactly?”
“I heard they scoop them out and eat them. Then our skins are discarded and thrown into the trash.”
“That sounds rather far-fetched to me, and needlessly horrific. There’s no reason to suppose anything bad is going to happen to us.”
“I know. I guess we will find out what happens when we are chosen.”
Joanne Fisher
Just a normal story of talking bags of potato chips… I was hoping to find an image from a New Zealand supermarket, but all the images I found seemed mostly from the United States.
“We will be buying that piece of land there from the Council.” Jenkins said pointing at the map. “We’ve been given a green light to develop the site into luxury apartments. I have assurances that there will be no problems or delays.”
“I see. So what is that land being used for at the moment?” Bartlett asked.
“I believe it’s an abandoned playground.” Jenkins stated.
“I’m sure I’ve seen children still use that one.”
“Well, only the children from poor families still use it, and who is going to listen to their complaints?” Jenkins pointed out.
“True.” Bartlett conceded.
Joanne Fisher
Word count: 99
This was written with the prompt about a place where children once played provided by the Carrot Ranch March 13 Story Challenge.
Her name was Gloria, and she was the most popular girl in school. With long blonde hair and the perfect figure, she was too good to be true. Even I worshipped her from afar. I only went to the football games to watch her cheerleading. She, of course, didn’t know I existed, which wasn’t surprising since I was the nerdy dyke of the school. She once talked to me: “Out of my way Cheesebreath!” I’ve remembered those words long after high school, like today when I’m looking at her resume and about to interview her for a job vacancy.
Joanne Fisher
Word count: 99
This was written with the prompt Gloria provided by the Carrot Ranch March 6 Story Challenge.
Some of the larger tomes had runes etched onto their spines. I picked one out and, due to its heaviness, struggled to get it to the table only a few feet away. Opening it, I found it was written in Latin. It was obviously a grimoire of some kind. Somebody had collected spells and written them down in a neat hand. I put that book to one side with the intention for further study.
Another one I picked out had a strange symbol on the spine I had never seen before. All its pages were written in similar types of symbols. I wasn’t sure where this work had come from, though I had travelled far. Using my magic, I was able to interpret some of the symbols. It seemed to be a history of a civilisation I did not know of. On one page was a spell that opened a portal, maybe it led to this lost and forgotten society.
Some time passed while I studied these books. After a few hours I decided to head back upstairs to have a word with the librarian, and maybe come back another day. Once I got back up the stairs, I found the solid black door was locked shut. I was about to knock on the door, when I overheard some voices. One was the old librarian, and the other had a younger and sterner voice.
“Where is this witch now?” Asked the sterner voice.
“She went down to the cellar to look at the grimoires. I’ve locked the door, so she can’t get out.” The librarian replied.
“We need to keep her down there until I can round up all the others. Keep a watch on the door until I return. We need to find out why she is here.” Then I heard heavy footsteps walk away and go out the front door.
I wasn’t technically a witch, so I took offence with that term. My knowledge and power far exceeded what is generally considered witchcraft. I silently went back down the stairs. Once back in the cellar, I conjured up a bag and grabbed the tomes I had been looking at. Sadly I couldn’t take everything, as there was only so much space available and it was inadvisable to store too much in extra dimensional spaces, especially if it was magical. I looked regretfully at all the books still on the shelves knowing it was unlikely I would ever see them again.
Once I was finished pilfering what tomes I could, I went back up the stairs. I said a word, and the door before me exploded outwards. I walked through the doorway to see the librarian looking shocked. He stared at me in horror.
“What are you?” He asked while trembling before me.
Once he was dealt with, I walked to the front door. As soon as I had opened it, I saw a large crowd of people were already there. They saw me and surged towards the door, so I hurriedly closed it again and then barred it. I glimpsed a raised stake in the courtyard with a large amount of firewood around it and guessed what they intended to do with that. There were too many of them to deal with. If I had more time, I could have prepared something, but I was now in a hurry. Already they were pounding at the door and starting to break the windows. I retreated back to the cellar.
There were a combination of spells in the stonework of this building, which meant I couldn’t shift out of here as I intended. So I grabbed the tome I had been looking at earlier, and spoke the strange inhuman words to form a portal. Thankfully it worked, and a green haze began to form in front of me. As soon as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, I walked through the haze and found myself in a pitch black circular room as if it had been hewed out of obsidian. I looked behind me to see the portal was gone, and so was the book I had been holding. Walking around this room I could find no discernible exit. Any magic I tried reverberated back to me in an unpleasant way. I was effectively trapped. Maybe this is what they had intended for me to do all along…
Not sure how I came to write this story. I think I just had an image of a library with shelves of old books. The main character intrigued me. Someone who may or may not be human who’s able to travel through dimensions searching for magical artefacts. I may write another story about once I’m able to devise a way to get them out of the trap I put them in…
Cindy climbed up into the treetops. Looking south, she saw the forest going on forever. Looking north, more forest, but also a golden city, maybe the Queen’s city.
“Having a good eyeful are ya?” Said a voice. Looking down she saw an angry pixie. “This is my vantage point!”
I’m having problems with my computer. It’s taken me hours to do this post. It should have taken half an hour at most. I’ve been asking people to support this blog for years, but few have. If you could donate some money then I could upgrade my computer and begin posting regularly again. Otherwise it will just be sporadic posts from now on.
I often go back and forth. One time I found myself in a small town. I wasn’t sure of the name, the country, or even the year.
On the edge of the town I found a mostly abandoned building that apparently was their library. When I walked in, the musty smell of books, and apparently the people that read them, confronted me. All the books seemed old and bound in leather. A few people were perusing the shelves. I went to the front desk. There sat a decrepit old man with long white hair. He looked up at me mystified.
“Can I help you miss?” He asked.
“I was wondering where you keep the really old books.” I stated. He looked at me surprised.
“What do you mean?” His perplexed face became a mass of wrinkles.
“I research the occult, and was hoping you might have something that would interest me.” He started nodding to my words.
“You should have a look in our vault. That’s where we keep those sorts of books.” He told me as he slowly got up. Due to his posture, he was slightly bent when standing. “You must follow me.” I followed and he led me to solid black door. He got out some keys from his pocket and slowly put a large key into the lock, his hands shaking all the while. After an indeterminable time of standing there waiting for him to try unlock the door, he finally managed to open it. Beyond the door were some steps leading down into darkness. He gave me a lantern, and then he went down the stairs, and I followed him again.
The further down we went, the mustier the smell became. He led me into a cellar that was lined with shelves of books mostly bound in black leather.
“Thank you.” I said. I placed the lantern on a table that was in the centre of the room.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, then he wearily went back up the steps.
I went over to look at the shelves. Some of these books were ancient. When I touched one, my hand recoiled, for I knew the feel of human skin, even after it had been turned into leather…
It was past midnight now and Alison lay in bed listening. Tiffany wasn’t back yet, and so she waited.
Eventually she heard a car stop and then drive off. The front door opening and closing, and Tiffany’s soft footsteps coming up the stairs. Not long after that, Tiffany gently slipped into the bed, presumably so not to wake Alison, and then she turned over and went to sleep.
Tomorrow Alison could ask Tiffany where she was spending her time every late evening this week, but then she was terrified of what Tiffany might actually say…
“I’ve got to go!” She urgently cried. The bells were tolling. She ran off leaving one of her glass slippers behind. The Prince picked it up and ran after her.
“Wait!” He called out. Unexpectedly, he caught up with her. She stopped and turned around, regarding him with her dark eyes. “You’re the most beautiful young woman I’ve ever seen, why do you run?”
“My stepmother doesn’t let me go to dances, because after midnight is when I feed.” She answered. She suddenly lunged at the Prince and bit his neck. She was so hungry…
“Well Cinders, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. You’ve drained the Prince!” One of her sisters stated once they found her kneeling over the body of the Prince with his blood all down her dress.
“If only you could control yourself.” The other said. She sighed. “We’re going to have to move again.”
Joanne Fisher
This was originally a prompt response, but the story grew too long. I already have another response to the same prompt, which should appear shortly.
joanne the geek 