Prompts

Prompt-Fill: 016. hand 2A

It was gone. Only a stump remained at the end of his wrist. They’d amputated his hand.

Tears gathered in his eyes. He’d trusted them when they said they wouldn’t do anything without his permission, yet they’d drugged him and cut off his hand. The betrayal stung even in the face of his loss.

The door began opening. He hurriedly wiped his eyes dry on the pillowcase and the shoulder of the hospital gown he wore.

By the time the nurse came in, he had a stoic expression on his face. She didn’t mention the redness of his eyes, simply gave him a smile and asked him how he was feeling.

“I’m feeling like they chopped off my hand,” he snarled, then bit his lip, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “From what I understand, it’s not your fault either. A decision had to be made or you would have died.”

“I know.” He avoided looking at the bandaged stump. He looked toward the window instead. “It’s sunny out there. All those days of rain, and now it’s sunny.”

The nurse—PAM, said her nametag—moved around the room. She opened things and shut things, checked readings on the machines and changed the IV so quickly and expertly he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t watching.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said. She crumpled up a blue paper cloth and tossed it in the garbage can. “I think I’m going to recommend that you get some time outside today.”

“What?” He gestured with his hand at his stump. “They cut off my hand yesterday.”

“That was yesterday,” she said. “This is today. And while the stump is still tender and I wouldn’t jostle it around, it should … Read the rest “Prompt-Fill: 016. hand 2A”

Prompt Fill: 342. lucid 1A

Her first lucid thought was that things had gone wrong. Then the pain pulled her down again and it was another two days before she regained consciousness. By then they’d already taken her right leg below the knee and her left leg at mid-thigh.

She was a huddle of blankets on the bed. Her body made small by stillness and the mass of bandages covering her face and arms, each of her fingers individually splinted and wrapped.

It was pain that woke her, then they had to knock her out again when she was unable to stop her panic.

She almost thought that waking was a dream–a nightmare–except she was still in the hospital when she woke up. Her legs were still ruined. Her arms and fingers were still broken messes of healing bone and flesh. She was still the only surviving victim of The Renaissance Mangler, a serial killer that had been preying on the city for the last four years. Men, women, children–the Mangler had no preference but to cause pain to his victims before killing them and dumping their bodies where they would be found.

It was the Mangler’s need for attention that saved her life. Through his interactions with the media, the FBI were able to find the warehouse where he tortured and murdered his victims. And though The Renaissance Mangler wasn’t caught, his latest victim was found alive.

Splayed out on the floor of a large metal cage, she’d looked dead. The Mangler must have known they were coming and killed her before he fled. It was grim work breaking into the cage, until someone shouted that her chest had moved–she was breathing!–and they burnt through the lock with heightened urgency. The EMTs streamed into the cage and she was … Read the rest “Prompt Fill: 342. lucid 1A”

“365 Prompts” by Harper Kingsley will be available as a pre-release November 14th. You can order your copy now for $5.
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2. Hidden in an attic, wrapped in stiff paper, there was an old painting. A moment caught in time, though the subject–a young man with fine features–continued to age until he was a withered old man.

A. Hidden in an attic, wrapped in stiff paper, there was an old painting. A moment caught in time, though the subject–a young man with fine features–continued to age until he was a withered old man. He’d been easy prey to the monster that lived in the house.

Captured and locked in oil paint, he felt no pain as the life was drained out of his trapped soul. And neither did the 200 other men and women transformed into paintings and hidden all through the countryside, their screams silenced to dull lassitude, so that they could sleep through their decades-long deaths.

But he was special. He was the first. The one true beloved that had turned a loving heart into a sucking pit of hate and rage.

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And consider if you want mm, mf, or gen; or if there’s … Read the rest ““365 Prompts” – Prompt 070. portrait ages so subject doesn’t 2A – $5 to paypal.me/harperkingsley”

“365 Prompts” by Harper Kingsley will be available as pre-release November 14. You can order a copy via Paypal or Patreon. Just send $5 and mention that it’s for “365 Prompts”.

.paypal.me/HarperKingsley.
.patreon.com/HarperKingsley.

Otherwise, you can pre-order via Amazon or Smashwords in a few days. The official release will be December 10, 2016, just in time for the holiday season.

*

2. Tangled in the blackberry bushes, the small child howled in fear and pain. There were red scratches marring the dirty face and arms, one thorn having scratched dangerously close to a teary eye.

A. Tangled in the blackberry bushes, the small child howled in fear and pain. There were red scratches marring the dirty face and arms, one thorn having scratched dangerously close to a teary eye.

Anna ran forward, waving her arms to signal No. “Don’t move, kid. You hold still and I’ll help you.”

“Get me out of here. It hurts! It hurts!” the child screeched, making an aborted lunge forward. Anna winced when she saw that a long thorny branch was wrapped around the child’s chest, digging into the patched and worn cotton shirt.

“I’ll get you, I’ll get you, don’t move.” Anna tried to hide her panic and project a sense of calm concern. The last thing she wanted was for the kid to realize how afraid she was. “Why don’t you tell me your name, sweetie?”

“I’m not sweetie. I’m Brandon.”

“Oh. Well, hello Brandon. I’m Anna.” Working slowly, she began untangling the small body. He couldn’t have been older than four or five, dressed in clothes that would have done better in the rag bin. “Can you tell me where your parents are, Brandon?”

“Don’t have any,” he muttered, his attention focused on her hands. Which is … Read the rest ““365 Prompts” – Prompt 041. blackberries 2A”

Hanging out, down the street, same old thing we did last week...

Not a thing to do, but hang with you...

This song's so catchy I don't know what to do.