prompt fill

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”

Prompt 004. spring – 1A

1. It was a relief when the spring frost began. They’d been close to running out of nearly everything.

A. Once the river melted, it was a rush to finish building the boat and gather enough food to see them out of the Wild Lands. If they were lucky they could reach civilization within a few months. If they were unlucky they would die. They didn’t have a choice either way.

There was no staying where they were. They’d stripped the island of everything it had to offer, and there hadn’t been much to begin with.

It was either make the attempt now, or slowly starve to death. There was not going to be another opportunity.

/END PROMPT
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Prompt-Fill: “Out of the Wilds”
Author: Harper Kingsley

Once the river melted, it was a rush to finish building the boat and gather enough food to see them out of the Wild Lands. If they were lucky they could reach civilization within a few months. If they were unlucky they would die. They didn’t have a choice either way.

There was no staying where they were. They’d stripped the island of everything it had to offer, and there hadn’t been much to begin with.

It was either make the attempt now, or slowly starve to death. There was not going to be another opportunity.

“Quiet that baby,” Gareth ordered. He was lashing the last of the supplies to the boat and didn’t need the distraction.

“Yes sir.” Leilan shushed the blanket wrapped bundle, jostling it until the wails turned to an unhappy grumble. The baby had been fussing ever since her twin — her Other Half — had died. There was a real concern that she would follow after, the broken strings of her … Read the rest ““365 Prompts” – partial Prompt-Fill: 004. spring 1A. “Out of the Wild Lands” by Harper Kingsley”

PROMPT: “Like werewolves and serial killers, I prefer a fullmoon and clear skies.”

*
A. Florentine and Rickets:

R: “What’s with the helmet and leather jacket?”
F: “I’m going out to ride my scooter.”
R: “It’s the middle of the night.”
F: “Like werewolves and serial killers, I prefer a fullmoon and clear skies.”

*
B. A Last Goodbye to Balor Hammerhart:

The last flight of Balor Hammerhart was burned into Aeron’s memory. He’d been in the crowd of spectators watching the launch of the first Seed ship. He’d seen it arch up and up, then there was a flash of light so bright that the outline of the ship seemed burned into the sky. It was the last thing he’d seen before his eyes were permanently damaged by the radiation released during the explosion of the hyperdrive.

Balor’s last words rang through his mind, “Like werewolves and serial killers, I prefer a fullmoon and clear skies…” and it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. It seemed that he was finally getting over what had happened.

Seven years of therapies, surgeries, and sacrificed dreams and he finally felt as though he could let go of Balor and move on.

“Which is why I need to visit his grave,” Aeron said.

“But it’s all the way on Titan,” Saera said. He could hear the worry in her voice.

“Mom, it’s going to be fine,” he said. “It’s a short shuttle ride to the Gatestation, then a needle trip through the Eye. I’m only going to be gone a few weeks.”

“Still, anything could happen. It seems dangerous to me.”

“It’s not anymore dangerous than a trip past the Wall. Plus I’ve already hired a Security clone to act as my Companion.” Aeron held out his hand until … Read the rest “magazine 001 – prompt, Eric Andre, Snowden,”

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