Great story! I really enjoyed your implementation of frequency!

Duality: Harmony

Chapter 7

Previously: Harmony entered a memory vault where trees were situated like museum displays. She is reading through the vault logs—the plaques affixed to the displays.

Vault Log, exhibit seven:

Dear Grace,

We’re on a care-convoy today. Visiting a local sheik and bringing them goodies. He fed us lamb, which was both my first and last experience with it. I’m sure his flock?...gaggle?...or whatever probably had one less today than it did yesterday. He told us failure isn’t fatal—a proverb maybe. But I’m sure the sheep didn’t see it that way when it failed to avoid selection.

The kids here are wi~~~ ... Ignore that. Kid wanted my pen but settled for my sunglasses. I wasn’t terribly attached to them. The hinge was faulty, so they didn’t close right. Kid didn’t mind though. He furbished them up nicely with a center-mass thumb print as he slid them on. It must’ve been high fashion to him. He just grinned from ear to ear and ran off.

Which brings up something vital...I’m going to need another pair in the next care package. Nothing fancy! I’m serious. It would just be a waste. I’ll either smash them in a pocket or lose them when I’m accosted by the next herd of kids.

We’ve got a good group of guys and girls here, and trips like these are just good for the soul, you know? Our bond’s fraternal, and I doubt I’ll ever forget them. For some things, forgetting is painful.

Gotta go. Talk soon.

Yours truly,

Daniel

WC: 228

Feel free to check out earlier installments here:

Duality Collection

Vigdis! She's the Valkyrie protagonist for my short story Valkyrie: Black Swan, which I'm doing for a contest.

The story itself is an alternate look into the Valkyrie clan's inner workings. A Valkyrie having wings is rare and hasn't happened for nearly 800 years. Vigdis (War Goddess/Spirit) didn't have a name up until the moment her black wings appeared. She was given a name, and her new role in leadership allowed her declare what she wanted to oversee.

Vigdis then singled out a Midgard warrior named Mioko. She had been watching this young fighter and said that she aimed to protect her. Given that the Valkyrie's assigned role is taking away the slain, this is at odds with Odin's decree and she knows that it will set her at odds with the Allfather.

Vigdis eventually links up with Mioko and serves to teach her about Rune magic as well as the forces arrayed against her.

Ok, here's my Geese impression:

It’s said that the bullet that gets you is the one you least expect. The bird was in his grasp when an Acme anvil struck him from above. His head then yo-yoed away from his feet in defeat, as the bird called, “meep-meep,” from up the street.

I’ve never seen an accordion abused this badly before. Like caoutchouc in blood’s place, ink traced down his face as he gazed in his prey’s direction.

Like Charlie Brown’s rain cloud without the cloud, the wind cried on him again today. But his plot armor deflected despair, so his impetuous chase began anew.

WC: 100

Did I succeed? :D

Indeed. It still falls into the group of nurses watching shows about nurses, doesnt it? If you're going to write a story about something, I don't think you have to be that thing, but you need to know enough to satisfy the audience you're including.

The inclusion bit is a whole other issue. My biggest gripe there is what it's doing to the younger writers that want to create but are paralyzed because they don't want to offend anyone.

I believe you can write whatever you want, in whatever way you want, but you need to be mindful of who your audience is and actually learn about the factual elements that you use.

The writer fear thing is from not understanding the value behind freedom of speech. You shouldn't feel pressured to write a story that will please absolutely everyone. If you do, you'll please no one. Just write a story that will be the highest value for your audience.

Can you imagine trying to include all of the genres in a single, linear narrative? 😆 That's essentially what people are attempting when they flex a story to encompass more folks.

Congrats on selling your story!

And you’re absolutely right. It can be disorienting to switch POV within a scene. I’m paying a lot more attention to that now, but I didn’t in the past. I have to remind myself where the camera is, and it can create some flow issues when you don’t stick with a POV.

Tense shifting is the nemesis in which I regularly do battle, but I’ve cut down on a lot of those issues by maintaining a POV.

Rewriting in itself probably helped a lot too. Even without focusing on the POV, a rewrite can make a world of difference!

Yes and no.

If a 12" ruler were the current measuring stick for media, I think a lot of our story content is hitting around 5 or 6. We have widely accepted writing guidelines that will land you around an 8 if you adhere to them, but there are obviously great storytellers out there that surpass that.

I'm not aiming for a 12, but I do strive for more than an 8, which benchmarks our agreed upon standards. If I provide meaningful story experiences, it will serve to inspire others to strive for the same marks.

It may sound like a negative motivator, but terrible stories are probably my biggest motivator. Lately, our media outlets seem intent on pushing out quantity over quality, so I aim to create stories that raise our standards.

En masse, I think our standards have decayed to some extent, where I also fell for entertainment shortcuts. Prior to my learning about storytelling, I’ve missed many of the flaws in our entertainment. It’s a lot like someone in a technical field watching a show about their field, where the creators didn’t do any research---think a nurse watching a drama involving nurses.

Of late, I’ve learned a lot about the gaps in my writing capabilities, and I’m working to fill those in. Every time I see a poorly told or developed story, it spurns me onward. I don’t intend to reinvent the writing wheel. I just want to write and present stories worth a reader’s time, while raising the average value of the stories that flood our current media outlets.

Duality: Harmony

Part 3

The two girls moved from one setting to the next as realities bled into one another. Where places had once been compartmentalized, they formed a Frankenstein construction where settings became rooms that adjoined distant places.

Harmony’s finger tapped incessantly against her bicep as she stood with her arms crossed. She replayed thoughts of Grace’s feigned ignorance as they both listened to the sound of Daniel’s assigned ringtone filtering in through a hole in the wall.

Grace bent over and looked through as the two stood in a darkened tunnel. The ambiance beyond was tinted fall’s orange and spilled onto Grace’s green iris. “It’s just some girl on a swing,” Grace said.

Harmony’s finger stopped. The repeated act had been misqueming, but this last remark was a crescendo. “Just some random girl?” she asked.

“Yep,” Grace replied. “She’s on a hilltop swing. And the sun is setting.”

Harmony raised her fists, then slammed them down to her sides as she thrust her foot forward, her kick driving into the back of Grace, whose face parted the wall like a breakaway banner.

With pinwheeling arms and a tumbling form, Grace boldly declared that she wasn’t named after falling. She careened across the grass, rolled to a stop, then pointed her aggrieved expression in the wrong direction. Her scowl evaporated when she turned and found Harmony stomping towards her.

“Just a random girl?” Harmony asked, her fist shaking at her sides. “Wearing your painted sweatshirt and leggings? Holding a phone that your fiancée is calling? Just a random girl?”

Grace raised her forearm as a guard from attacks and a barrier to keep their eyes from meeting.

The wordless space filled with the sound of Harmony’s flaring nostrils and the ringing phone held by a girl in the nearby tree-swing. Orange and yellow leaves broke away from the branches and tumbled past as Harmony’s eyes attempted to set Grace on fire.

“I’m sorry,” Grace managed. “I just---I don’t know what you want.”

Harmony raised her clinched fist, then snapped it out in a gesture to the swing. “How long are you going to keep pretending this elephant doesn’t exist? Damn you, Grace! Not looking doesn’t make it go away. It doesn’t stop. It never stops.”

Grace’s gaze started a cold war, her fear shifting into resistance as she locked eyes with Harmony. It had to come to an end though, and they both knew it. Grief seeped in when her resistance cracked.

She turned to the swing, then became the girl looking at her phone. Her reflection fled as the phone lit and rang anew. The caller ID displayed an image of Daniel hugging Grace where their smiles shone brightly.

“Hey, Danny,” she greeted, sorrow in her voice.

Harmony exhaled. I know it sucks, but you can’t grow while avoiding this. Her shoulders sagged as she moved and sat on the opposite side of the tree. She looked to the sunset and listened while the call ran its course.

“What’s got you so upset?” Daniel asked.

“It’s nothing,” Grace sobbed. “I don’t want you worried.”

“And you crying without explanation isn’t a cause for worry? Tell me what happened. I won’t let it distract me.”

“You promise?” Grace asked.

“I promise,” he replied.

“I had some tests done. They told me. They said... it’s in my stomach and progressed too far.”

“What has?”

“...cancer.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Daniel.”

“You lose me?”

“Yeah... what will happen to us?”

You know I’m no good at these things. But I think I’ll be on the right.”

“What?”

“The groom. Aren’t we on the right?”

“But didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Yes? But unless it means we switch sides, those things aren’t related.”

She sobs. “Why are you like this?”

“Again, I’m not the best here, but I think it goes ‘in sickness and in health.’”

“But that doesn’t count yet.”

“Sure it does. We’re just in the Grace-period.”

“...”

“It’s fine, Grace. This doesn’t change anything between us, and I’ll return as soon as this tour’s up.”

“I wish I was stronger... like you.”

Harmony’s attention shifted as a leaf fell into her lap. It’s a lie, Grace. You’re the only one capable of strength here. You both know you’re already on the train there’s no getting off of. You still have a task left undone which is something you should have been working ages ago.

Once you disappear beyond the horizon, his compass goes too so leave him something to find his way. Be strong. Build a lighthouse out of that strength, then mount it atop this train so that it can be seen above the horizon. Because without it, his only course will be to crash into the rock used in the gravestone you leave behind.

Save him, Grace.

WC: 800

I welcome any and all feedback! There's likely some tense shifting in here somewhere, so feel free to point that out! Thank you!

Previously on Duality: Harmony

Part 2

Part 1

Duality: Harmony

Part 2

Harmony walked out of the reality tear with her shoulders back and her chin held high. Grace bumped into her as she continued past.

“Easy,” Harmony complained, then glanced back to see the previous alley and the shadowed horizon. She dismissed her concern, then followed Grace, who’d stepped onto a trail and hurried to the nearby tunnel.

A walking track passed through a corridor under a roadway, and Grace crouched near the entrance. She smiled as her hand pressed against the gray stone covered with paintings. “We really are here,” she said as she admired the painted bunny that shared a bucket mound up with several spools of string.

“You had doubts?” Harmony asked.

“I mean, I knew, but I didn’t, you know?”

Harmony shook her head. “Can’t say that I do.”

Grace looked back while gesturing to the wall. “I painted this bunny and pale when I was younger.” She ran her hand up the wall, along a string that left a spoil, looped around the pale’s handle, and led up to a helicopter. “Someone else added the spools and the helicopter, though.”

“This was before Daniel, right?” Harmony asked as she walked over and leaned against the same wall.

“Yeah,” Grace replied. “Before I met him, I worried about ending up alone. I wanted to focus on painting but still needed to figure out how to pay for college, while also finding time for a love life.”

“School won’t pay for itself.”

“Right. But then I got my art scholarship and met him shortly after. Things were finally looking up. I no longer had to worry about paying for college, and Daniel was absolutely perfect for me. He eventually proposed, and I got to focus on my painting while still having time to plan our perfect wedding. I went from having nothing, to having everything, and it seemed like there was time enough, at last.”

“Then back to having nothing. Fate sure has a sick sense of humor.”

Grace looks at Harmony, her face contorted in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ugh, the end of the world?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Grace replied as she stood and spun with upturned palms. “Just look around. Everything is fine. It’s all fine, you see? So stop being crazy.”

“No,” Harmony replied, her head canted in irritation.

Grace’s eyes dawned with comprehension. “Oh, I get it. You’re jealous. Yeah. Daniel and I are getting married when he returns and you’re just trying to mess up our future.”

“What the hell are you talking about, kid? You have no future.”

“Don’t call me kid.”

“Fine. Princess, then. That works too.”

“Daniel’s princess, maybe.” Grace replied and stuck out her tongue.

“I stand corrected, A kid-princess. Did you forget we just walked through a tear in reality? That’s not exactly normal, you know?”

A phone rung from the corridor and Grace immediately oriented on it, then froze as she looked towards the sound. Light bled into the darkened space from a wall in the tunnel’s center, and the sound radiated from within.

“Running horse,” Harmony said. “It’s the ring tone you set for whenever Daniel calls.”

Grace’s haunted eyes shifted to Harmony, who returned a smug expression.

“There aren’t any lights in there,” Grace said.

“I know.”

“Well, where’s it coming from?”

“Why should you believe me? I’m crazy, remember? None of this is real, and the world isn’t ending.”

Grace nodded. “Right... So what do you think he wants?”

“It’s not about what he wants. It’s about what you have to tell him.”

“What I have to say? But I have nothing. I mean, he knows how I feel and everything---”

“Are you really going to leave him hanging on a long distance call? You actually get some good news out of it. He gives you a response. It was one of many outcomes, where you get the one you least expected.”

“How could you possibly know all of that?”

Harmony shrugs. “I’ve seen these moments.”

“So what, you’re from the future?”

Harmony shakes her head. “No, I’m from not from a place or a time. I don’t belong anywhere, yet I’m still part of it all. I’m a probability, and a potential error---an anachronism. But what I’m not, is your butler. And that phone’s just gonna keep on ringing.”

WC: 718

I'm still trying to sort out working with past tense. Feel free to point out any issues or anything else you find relevant! Thanks for reading!

Professional Courtesy

• WC: 743

The balding Smee sits behind the desk of his corner office, dreading the arrival of the red-cloaked girl now walking across the bullpen. Sweat is beading on his forehead by the time his door swings open. Mioko steps in, and the blinds smack the glass as she closes the door behind her.

She rounds the couch across from his desk and knocks a fedora from the armrest to the cushion to clear her seat.

Smee waggles his finger and stands as she looks at him. “Don’t you dare,” he demands. “Do you have any idea how much easier my life would be if you simply stopped showing up to ask for work?”

Mioko makes a pouty face. “Aw, so you’re not happy to see me?” She asks, then smiles wryly. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“The bounties are dead or alive. And it’s expected that some will actually return alive.” Mioko opens her mouth, but Smee raises his fingers. “Bu-bu-bu-ba, no, those comas don’t count. Alive doesn’t extend to beaten-comatose.”

“Well, I'm sure you enjoy the view from your high horse, on your little island of indignation, but those assholes had it coming; I'm just the consequences. And if they bothered to count their blessings, they'd realize that the coma was one of 'em.”

Mioko extends fingers as she counts off. “Karl Stanton, human trafficking. Ted Mosby, serial stalker. Earnest Hemingway---”

Smee laughs. “Really?” he asks, eyebrows flexing. “Hemingway's coma was a gift? The guy was just using the name to promote his poetry.”

“Yeah, and it was terrible. Trust me, I did God’s work that day.”

“None of this even matters,” Smee blurts, raising his hands. “Ok? The boss is pissed. She’s not having it and is hell bent on some positive reinforcement... the physical coercion sort, if you get my drift. Last I heard, she was gone looking for a bigger stick.”

Smee moves over to his office window, looking out to the bullpen before closing the blinds. “Your best bet is to lay low,” he continues. “Hopefully, no one told her you arrived.”

“I’m not worried about your boss, Smee,” she says smirking and crossing her arms.

“Who cares about your worries? It’s my ass that’s on the line here. I’m the only one dumb enough to still give you contracts.”

Mioko extends her palm, gesturing back to his desk. “Could you just check the thing and find me some tool to curb stomp?”

Smee shakes his head with upturned hands. “Ugh, no? We’re not the place for you to work out your anger issues. We’re a prof---oh, shit!” he says, withdrawing from the side window.

“What is it?”

Smee shakes his finger towards the window facing the parking lot. “Sha-sh-sh-she just pulled the damn streetlight out of the sidewalk.”

“Oh. Well at least she found her bigger stick. But it's fine. I’ll go deal with it.”

Smee rushes back around his desk. “Now, let’s not get too hasty, kid. You know, I actually like this one, right?”

“And?”

He brings his palms together in front of his face. “Can you please just leave the guns and sword in here? It’s so hard to find decent management these days.”

“You know I don't do requests.”

“Come on. Where's your professional courtesy? You owe me that much.”

“Ugh, fine. But you better not touch ‘em while I’m gone.”

Smee laughs, nervously. “Are you kidding me? I might not take care of myself, but I do value my life.”

Mioko unholsters two Springfield 1911’s from the back of her coat, sets them on the couch, then retrieves a katana and scabbard from within her jacket collar to set next to them.

Smee sighs and leans back against his desk as Mioko turns to open the door. “When you need me,” he says. “I’ll be here, sitting on my desk, singing Yankee Doodle fucking Dandy.”

Mioko points over to his desk chair. “Can you just look me up the meanest guy you got? He doesn’t have to be the highest paying; just someone fun. Oh, and send someone out to the parking lot with a bell or horn or something in case I don’t notice her taping out.”

“Sure. And kid?” She stops as the door is about to latch behind her. “Try to ease up some, will ya? One of these days, it might be your name that I have to hand to someone looking for work.”

The door closes.

Oh, I didn't realize that was an option! Yeah, that would be great. I appreciate it!

I've added a few but I haven't figured out how to put it on a menu yet. The only way I saw to select it was clicking your username on one of your comments.

I've had several writing prompts that I really enjoyed during November. Most of my October stories were pretty grizzly so I tried to stick with a theme related to dream/imagination magic for this month. I enjoyed the act of writing them but I don't think they were seen by many. 😅

This is two that i felt were really satisfying to write:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/z1ufaa/wp_there_is_a_place_a_place_between_places_its_an/ixi1cj1?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/yvvkzi/wp_you_have_been_imprisoned_in_space_but_not_in/iwglu6v?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3

I think this whole theme came from me writing a story in response to a comment that said: "Anything can be a prompt if you're creating enough."

After my story-reply I was told I was a Picasso of writing 🥰

I'm still relatively new with my own sub, and it's been a bit of learning process. I started mine up out of a necessity to make my work more manageable/productive.

I was completing WPs that were pulling scenes, characters, and powers from a story I'm developing. Several users expressed interest in that particular storyline and wanted me to message them when I posted similar stories. As more people requested that I PM them, it was looking kind of intensive for notifying several users of each post.

So I made a sub for a centralized location for those stories and just sent the link to those users. I'm still adjusting flairs, collections and content, but what I recommend is utilizing scheduled posts. I haven't set this up on mine yet, but I have it set up on other platforms and it definitely makes life easier in regards to productivity.

I'm still tinkering with flairs and collections, but the latter seems to be the better place option for my needs.

r/jtwrites

Hearts on Fire

Daniel and Michelle both walk into a spiderweb, even while walking one in front of the other, with her huddled behind him. It was supposed to be a simple hike through the woods, but the sun had sat well before they made it back to their cabin.

Daniel’s eyes are closed, and he’s spitting. “It’s in my mouth,” he complains

Michelle’s hair is out of its holder, and she keeps jerking and pulling away from imagined things crawling on her. She combs her fingers through her hair repeatedly and continues to dust off things that aren’t there.

“Ugh,” Michelle groans. “Why did you let me walk into that?”

Daniel runs his palm down his face, then over his hair. “It’s not like I could see the thing. Besides, I thought you were behind me. How did you even walk into it?”

Michelle opens her mouth to speak when a glowing butterfly passes between them. The pastel colors of its wings flap with no discernible body connecting them as glittering dust falls in its wake. Her eyes follow the glitter which leads her to looking down at her feet. Her frantic steps had caused splashes of pastel colors, alternating blue, green, orange, red as she danced away from the web that had encroached on her personal space.

Michelle walks backwards while watching her steps erupt in yellow, purple, then she backs into a tree and turns to see another eruption of color.

Daniel walks up beside her as she’s raising her hands to cover her mouth. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” he says.

She spins back to him. “What’s happening? Are we hallucinating?”

“If you’re also seeing a splash of blue on the tree you just backed into, I’d say this is something other than a hallucination.”

Michelle twirls, each of her steps splashing in a different color. She giggles and runs to a nearby tree, drums on it, then continues her solo onto the other trees nearby. “It’s amazing,” she says, grinning uncontrollably.

Another butterfly takes flight and Michelle looks back to see each of her footsteps pooling and rising off the ground. It’s like they were drops of water that had fallen and splashed but are now rewinding. The drops of color ascend into the air, change into animated wings and fly upward, their glow illuminating the surrounding area.

Michelle’s hands go over her mouth once again, and her eyes go wide, allowing the colors to reflect off of them.

Daniel traces his finger down the trunk of a tree. His finger passes in several loops and arching shapes where a rainbow colored rose soon takes shape. He adds some leaves to the initial stem, then leans forward and blows across the flower’s pedals. Dust moves away from the pedals like the excess that remains when you’re using chalk on a sidewalk.

The flower shifts in an invisible wind, and he reaches, wrapping his fingers around the stem to pull it away. When he turns back with the flower, a gentle dust if falling from the pedals, glittering in their descent. Michelle’s hands are still over her mouth when he proffers the flower. One hand remains over her mouth but the other moves to cover her heart as her eyes fix on Daniel.

“Is this some kind of proposal?” she asks, behind her cupped hand.

“Something like that,” Daniel admits, looking down at the flower. “What would you think about living in a place like this?”

Michelle looks up as the butterflies pass through the treetop canopy and their light, causing the shadows to move as it shines through gaps in the foliage. “I don’t know what you’re asking, but this place… it’s magic.”

Daniel reaches down, takes her hand and closes it around the flowers stem before walking over to her tree-drum. He taps one color and then drags it away from the others, sequentially separating each of them. “You always wanted me to take you home. You wanted to meet the parents, but it’s not that I didn’t want to. My story’s just a little more complicated than you’d probably want to believe.”

Daniel had pulled the separated colors back together and formed a rainbow colored unicorn. He leans towards it and blows. The colorful dust continues to trail off of it as it turns to look at him, then whinnys and gallops across the air.

The unicorn moves over to Michelle, then runs laps around her as she turns to follow it. “The truth is,” Daniel continues, “I’m not from your world. You know the bear attack that you so fervently cited as a reason for us not to come on this trip? Well, those two campers losing their life was actually my fault.”

Michelle gasps. “Are you actually a bear?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think such a crazy thing?”

Michelle’s stare becomes flat as she holds out her upturned palm where the unicorn continues to trot in a circle above it. “I’m sort of suspending my belief about how the world works at the moment.”

“Oh,” he says, with a nod. “That’s fair. But this is actually where I’m from, and it’s all I’ve ever known until the day I visited your world. My world is amazing, but it’s also lonely with no one to share it with. Those that I bring here only enjoy it for the night, then don’t remember once they’re gone. After losing those two to that bear, I realized I couldn’t stay in your world any longer and that their deaths were on my hands. You’ll be safe here for the night, but you’ll have to go back in the morning.”

The unicorn’s stage falls away as Michelle lowers her hand back to her side. She looks at the flower, then back at the unicorn. It looks back at her curiously, as if to question why she interrupted its performance. Her gaze then turns back to Daniel, and she walks over to him, reaches for his hand and grips it. “You didn’t bring me here to say goodbye. We came so that you could ask me to stay.”

Michelle presses her chest against his. She turns her gaze upward, compensating for the extra foot of height that he has on her, and meets his eyes. “And if I stay?”

Daniel smiles. “We’d look out for them together, giving them a magical place to stay for the night and letting them go home once the sun is up.”

Michelle turns her head to lay her ear against his chest. The unicorn is there, looking back at her and wondering why it’s no longer getting attention. She closes her eyes, just listening to the thump-thump sounds of a very human heart. “Just let me have tonight to think about it.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agrees, then lays his cheek against the top of her head.

She was haunting, he thought as she opened a portal and walked through it. Her long coat and red hood gave her an air of mystery that was getting under his skin. She had turned his way earlier that day and her electric blue eyes passed over him. She didn't see him of course. Not really. Her gaze was fixed some place further away, to something that she could only see or look for. When her gaze finally moved away from him, he felt both relief and a dwindling excitement.

He didn't mean to follow her. Not intentionally. His feet began moving without his knowing, his back pressed against corners before he leaned to peek around them. It totally wasn't his fault. It was some sort of magic spell that he didn't know was at work on him.

One last corner as she turns to walk down an alley. He looks around it as she's pulling her hood down to reveal a long black braid. She pulls it over her shoulder then reaches towards her back to draw a katana. His interest shifts from curiosity into life preservation as he stops looking around the corner.

Both of his shoulders get pressed back against the brick wall behind him as his heart rate quickens and his breathing cycles more frequently than he'd care to acknowledge. He puts his hand on his chest to see in an attempt to will his heart and breath to slow as he looks back around the corner.

The girl slices across the air and a portal opens in front of her with allowing an old factory to be seen beyond. He spies a street sign and recognizes the place to be located at Wolf & Front St. She steps through and the portal closes behind her. He quickly pulls out his phone to look up the location. "But that's across town," he says to himself.

He stops at the corner and looks up the same street sign. It's the same one he had seen before but the building looks different. For starters, it isn't whole as the nearest corner is completely destroyed, exposing an opening into its interior.

Sparks pop from an overhead electrical transformer causing him to jump. He looks up to the utility pole seeing that the lines had been torn away. His feet move him once again as he looks around to the small fires scattered about the parking lot. The only cars present are on fire with one of them on its side and another upside down on top of two others.

"She got here just an hour ago," he says, looking around as more sparks pop from the transformer. "What the hell happened?"

He passes through the large opening as bricks shift and fall from one side. Again startled, he turns and steps away from the falling bricks. Continuing to backpedal inside, the interior is found to be in no better shape.

In the center of the room is a hospital bed with a blue pad and straps hanging loose from each side. Beside it is a long chain that descends from the high ceiling that would be high enough to cover a second floor. The chain hangs, draping all the way down to the bedside where it rounds and travels back up to the same place on the ceiling.

Beside the chain's mount is a large glass skylight with two frames that can open away from each other like a pair of cellar doors. Most of the glass is missing from the frame though, having been shattered and falling to rest on or around the bed with some of it impaling the blue pad.

Two different control panels are near the bed, and a table sits between them. A single table lamp is all that seems to be powered and it's sitting on the in-between table as its light continues to struggle. A generator can be heard sputtering somewhere in the distance as he prepares to let go of the life its struggling to hold on to.

He quickly moves to the table, stepping over various forms of debris and unknown objects. Approaching the table, he brushes away some of the rubble and concrete dust, forcing himself to cough as it becomes airborne. A fanning ensues as he stirs it up more than he causes it to dissipate. He finally steps away and returns again once it's calmed down.

There is a stack of papers that he carefully wipes the top off of. The papers are 18"x24" and filled with schematics and numbered steps. It's almost like the floor plan of a building with each page detailing a different floor. The top page is the outline of a human body, the next is muscle tissue that falls within the same body outline as the previous image. As he flips through, he sees the different organs and bone structures but then finds mechanical additions and a process of raising the bed during an electrical storm.

"That'll get you killed, you know?"

"Geeyah," the boy says, clutching his chest and stepping back. He turns to find the girl in the red hood standing next to him.

"You've got guts, Kid," she says as she kicks at a body at her feet, causing the boy to look down. "Most probably would have turned back at the sight of a werewolf corpse." She pulls out a zippo, flips it open and lowers it to set the schematics aflame.

The boy is backpedaling away with a terror spreading across his face. The girl is looking down at the growing fire, then looks back to see his terrified expression as he stares at the body. "Oh, give me a break," she says. "Did you really not know that was there?"

He backs into the control panel and begins sliding down into a seated position. She walks over, grabs him by the shirt collar, and pulls him back to his feet. "Look, you better get out of here unless you want to get dead. They'll be coming to check on this place, and I won't be sticking around to babysit you."

She lets go of him, allowing him to fall back away from her. He lands on his rear before scrambling back to his feet. "Oh, and stop following girls," she says, looking him up and down. "It's creepy no matter what your reason." She pulls a gun out from the back of her coat and uses it an a shooing gesture. "Now get out of here, Kid."

He turns to run back the way he came as she opens another portal and steps through.

This is using some of the lore and mechanics from a story world that I'm working on. You can find out more on Redux Riding Hood as well as find similar stories here: r/jtwrites

Happy Reading, JT

Yeah, you gotta change it up from time to time so your brain doesn't get stuck in the one gear 😅

Thank you! I need to find more prompts to write bright colorful things. Lately, everything has seemed to be dark and violent but that may be just part of this time of year 🤔

Not to worry, I have you covered below. 😁

Just your friendly neighborhood dreamer, kicking through conversational walls like the Kool-Aid man just to throw around some sweet smelling flowers 😁

And thank you. Happy to share!

...said the valet as he stepped between the reporter and the celebrity. In the midst of their interview, they begin looking back and forth between each other and the valet while internalizing the same question; Where's security?

The valet pulls a set of keys from the breast pocket of his vest, then spins them on his index finger. The keys change in the spin, becoming a pen as he's walking away. He raises the pin as if to sign the air but shakes his head.

He spins the pen on the top of his hand and turns his palm up as it changes again, becoming a can of spray paint. Looking at the can, he nods appreciatively, then leans over and swings his arms across his body then back out like an umpire calling a runner safe after sliding across home plate.

After the gesture, the valet now has a spray-can in each hand. Using his thumbs, he pops each lid off in turn, sending them tumbling into the air where one changes into a leaf and the other a feather, both of them getting carried away from him in an unfelt wind.

To start, the valet spays one can towards his face, causing a pair of safety goggles to form over his eyes. He shifts to the other can, spraying in an oscillating manner, and a breathing mask forms over his mouth and nose. Next, he alternates each over his body where his vest and slacks become a gray jumpsuit with rubber booties over his feet.

Safety first, he thinks, spinning the cans only to pop off a different colored top while releasing an additional feather and leaf.

He looks back at the air as he appraises something that only he can see. After playing out the image in his mind, he sets to work. He sprays each can in wild zig zagging patterns, and the paint fans forward in oscillating waves, the individual droplets drifting towards the industrial zone across the canal. The specs of paint look as if they'll continue to drift away and apart, soon to be just another part of the city's increasing air pollution concern.

But they don't.

The flecks of paint begin sticking to the air as if some unseen canvas is standing between the painter and the smog engine. The paint cans twirl rapidly as leaves and feathers continue to peel up and behind the painter. After a time, the various color changes start to depict a landscape where the sky is actually blue. A variety of flowers begin to freckle the lush green meadow that emerges.

He adds various trees, a pond with a fish mid-jump, a sunrise beyond a hill, and a great white elk standing atop the mound with the sun at its back. Lastly, he pants a rope bridge from his gravel parking lot that leads over the canal.

With that done, he gives the painting a nod and turns around to find all of the leaves clustered and suspended in the air while all the feathers had formed birds that were frozen above. He spins the cans again, popping the lids off two different colors of brown. He sprays up into the leaves, moving back and forth as branches form and make connections to all the leaves. The cans trace back to the ground as the trunk takes shape and roots sink into the gravel.

Another spin and he turns the cans back on himself. The safety gear fades away as oversized glasses and a floppy sun hat take their place. A button up shirt, comfortable shorts and slip-on shoes replace the jump suit.

He flings one of the cans over his shoulder, while spinning the other. The birds behind him gain motion and the painted tree starts moving in the same unfelt wind. The other can sprays and forms a hatchet in his hand before he looks back towards his landscape with a smile.

He tosses the remaining can towards the painting and the lush landscape gains motion. The fish falls to splash back into water, the flowers sway with the grass, the tree leaves rustle, and the white elk turns his gaze towards the dreamer.

He reaches up to his hat, making sure the now felt wind doesn't carry it away as he walks towards the sunrise. He passes into the painted place, crossing the bridge, and stopping long enough to use the hatchet to separate himself from the world he left behind.

The bridge falls away and he tosses the hatchet into the canal as the songbirds fly across to follow him. A moment later, the landscape separates into flecks of paint, moving away from each other while growing smaller. In a matter of seconds, it's all gone.

The celebrity reaches up to rub at the back of his head before turning back to the reporter. "So are we still talking about cleaning up the city?" asks the celebrity. "Or should we talk about what just happened?"

lol Sorry, I was trying to help you make your point but got a bit carried away :)

Redux Riding Hood

​

"Stop trying to pet me, Red," the wolf complains. "You know I hate that."

Red and the wolf are lying on a grass embankment overlooking a fortress which is surrounded by the undead. Red is wearing a long red-leather coat with a matching hood. She pulls the hood down and pulls her black braid over her shoulder before reaching into the back of her coat to retrieve her katana and scabbard.

Wolf watches her lay the blade aside and roll onto her back. "What are you doing?" the wolf asks.

"This is it, Wolf," Red replies. "We either stop her or we don't. It's 4th and long, 4th quarter with only seconds left on the clock."

"If you keep on with these sports analogies, I don't think the end is going to be able to get here fast enough. "

Red narrows her eyes. "Shush, this is important."

"Hey, if you don't like it, you should have been a better influence."

She rolls her eyes. "Anyways. This is our only shot at this. There's no undo or reset. We have to stop her now if we have any hope of stopping her at all. Now that she's made her portal device mobile, she's going to be able to get into other worlds like we can. Then there's no telling what sort of powers she will accumulate. It's bad enough that Dr. Frankenstein is making more monsters for her.

Red sticks her metal-left arm into the air, forming a finger gun and aiming at the moon. She shoots.

Wolf rolls onto his side, facing her and propping himself up on one arm. "You know you're a bit of a monster now too, right?"

Red turns the metal hand over and looks at the back of her knuckles. "What she did to us was monstrous, so that makes us just another product of her efforts."

"So what? Are we gonna roll over now and play dead?"

"Hell no. You really think I'm going out like a punk?"

Wolf smirks. "I was wondering when the real Red would show up."

Red's metal fist clenches and she twists herself to her feet, snatching the katana as she rises. She checks her watch and then draws her blade. She swings it causing a portal to open in front of her that faces down a set of subway tracks and an empty tunnel.

"It's almost time, Wolf. Are you ready?"

Wolf climbs to his feet and draws the greatsword from his back. "Are you kidding? I didn't do all that work for nothing. I'm ready to just get this over with."

Red turns back away from the portal and looks down to the horde of zombies crowded around the entrance of a gray-stone keep. Watch towers stand at the four corners of the structure, and werewolves can be seen prowling along the top of the walls.

She reaches the metal arm into the back of her coat and pulls out one of the two handguns she keeps holstered at her lower back. She places her foot on the ledge, points her gun down at the horde, and peers down the iron sights. "Well, I guess we're going to see how that new charge shot works out."

A train horn blares from behind her, and she turns to see a light rapidly moving down the tracks in her direction. She looks over to Wolf and he nods back to her.

Red dismisses the open portal with a swipe of her blade as she places the top of the pistol against her chest. She presses it against herself and pushes forward, causing the slide to move back and expose the open chamber. As she holds it open, a growing light intensifies within the barrel.

She swipes the katana two more times, causing an exit portal to open on the ground level amongst the zombie horde. A moment later, a subway train is barreling out of the opening. Its nose buries, causing each connecting car to jackknife and tumble across the field like a farm combine tending to the harvest.

The light from the barrel is becoming so bright that they both have to look away. Red opens another portal over the ledge of the embankment that leads them out onto the field of zombies. She tries to squint beyond the light, looking into the portal as zombies start to gather amongst the train wreckage.

"Ok, Wolf." She calls to him over the whine that's now coming from the weapon. "Our only chance is to get that portal device away from her, so are you up for a game of fetch?"

Wolf glares back at her. "If I don't like petting, why the hell would I agree to--"

Red lets the pistol's slide move forward, then aims it through the portal, the weapon's form no longer being visible from the intense light of the barrel.

The horde starts to approach her portal as werewolves can be seen sliding down the face of the castle wall in the distance.

"Yippy kai yay," she says grinning and squeezes the trigger.

Haha yeah. I went ahead and added this post as a link to the other post. What I'm thinking is that the Shadow Lord (Shades) was the the overseer for Fenrir's prison but since Shades became bound to Aubrey, his powers have been diminishing as more and more of it becomes Aubrey's to control.

So Fenrir is able to escape when Shades isn't able to do anything about it and Shades likely won't even know about the escape for some time 🙃

And Ty, Ty!

Great! Happy reading!