The time traveler's wife - review

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Why did I wait so long to read this? The Time Traveler's Wife tugged at my emotions and drew me into the convoluted world of its characters. When I closed the book I grieved it ending and my daughter nodded in sympathy before taking the book from me to read.

Audrey Niffenegger - thank you.



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writing prompt 16. Constrained writing - Haiku

 

Another constrained writing prompt, this time with haiku.
     [CW] Tell a dystopian story in haiku form. by JimBobBoBubba in WritingPrompts

Trudge the dusty road

All hope we left behind us

Paradise is lost

.

Weary we must toil

Force and pain our daily bread

Heavy hearts don’t sleep

.

Tiny blade of grass

Brave between cracks of rubble

Renew dreams of hope

                                              

Writing prompt 15

                                            
 http://tripleddizzy420.deviantart.com/art/Yasou-Summoning-Jutsu-56269018


[WP] “If you don’t stop trying to summon demons in my living room I’m going to smack you.” by Gravitiaxis in WritingPrompts

“Max, if you don’t stop trying to summon demons in my living room I’m going to smack you.”
“And I will dob on you to Dad! You aren’t allowed to hit people and ‘sides that, it is our living room not your living room.”
“Well I’ll tell Mum and we both know Dad is scared of her so you better stop doing your stupid carpet and candle burning in the living room before either of our parents get home or you are so gonna regret it.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“They left me in charge; that makes me the boss.”
“I can summon demons and you can’t stop me. I’ll tell them to – to – make you go on a date with Fendwick Thwaits and he will kiss you.”
“Ew! You are so gross you little rat. That’s it, you are in big trouble for sure. Give me those candles right now.”
“No, no they are my candles, give them back.”
“I am taking these to the laundry and locking them in the cupboard.”
“Have them then, see if I care. I can summon demons without them. Stupid sister! You are in for it now!”
“Oh really? I am shaking in my shoes – not. So go ahead, summon a demon and then what? Will we have to hide it in the shed with the rest of your menagerie? You know you are not allowed any more pets until you learn to be responsible for them. I am so sick of cleaning up your messes. Go right ahead and summon a demon, go on, nothing you can conjure up will bother me one little bit.”
“I’ll show you. You’ll regret bullying me around. Mumble magic wibfle scradgic blipple fibulastic rading.”
“What is it?”
“My demon.”
“Oh it’s so cute, aww let me hold it. Please let me hold it. It is crying, it needs me, let me hold it, oh please Max it is calling me. That is the cutest little thing I have ever seen, what is it?”
“It is a demon. Once you imprint you can never let it go. Are you sure you want it big sis?”
“Yes, yes, give it to me, give it to me now. Please Max, it needs me.”
“Okay but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here you go, one handheld digital demon pet.”



                                      

Writing prompt 14

 

This was not a writing prompt as such but an attempt at a nonsense poem in the style of 'Jabberwoky'


Reddit has forums of constricted writing [CW] in which participants are constricted by word choice or style.
This is my first attempt at a nonsense poem. 

[CW] Write a short non-sense poem, similar to Lewis Carroll's "The Jabberwocky" by tanglespeck in WritingPrompts

Rontemed amongst Rammodess
Scadamat and alone
The lausseary guited rhoducates
Compered the faithful rone.
Inates in nigh safecturies
Gasatched excenorants of old
Tratelize and pulanded
Custfurts abjust the bold.
Andereposive speeps
The metrus maiden aspology
And bravempluncont weeps.
Requier seressums a quatre past the noon
In Irpersing and fair Hambing
Until perpring Corrings
Strestificates the moon.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nonsense_verse  

Writing prompt 13

 Something a little devilish for the thirteenth prompt and Friday 13th.  



[WP] Somehow your wedding invitations get into the hands of the seven princes of hell. They show up by Kami_of_Water in WritingPrompts

“This was supposed to be my perfect day”, the bride howled black runnels into her imported lace handkerchief. “Did you see what he did?” she slid her veiled head onto her gloved arms and sobbed harder.
“I didn’t see that last part Letitia”, the short blushing bridesmaid rustled across the room in a magenta puff and curled her arm around the bride. “But I’m sure it isn’t as bad as you think.”
The bride sat up and sniffed. She wiped bitumen tracks along the former antique white delustered satin of her gloves. She stood up and grabbed folds of her dress in her fists. Lifting her head, jutting her neat little jaw forward and squaring her bare shoulders she signaled for her bridesmaids to follow.
“I’ll show him! Come on girls, let’s turn this fiasco into a party.” A flurry of antique white and magenta burst through the door into the reception.
A throaty chuckle filled the empty room.
“Amon, it appears you may have set the proverbial cat among the pigeons.”
“No, no you deserve first points brother, Admodeus, that little burst of lust certainly had the maid of honour curling those shapely legs around the groom.”
“No, first points go to Levi, he stirred up the green monster lurking in that girl’s breast.”
“Well it had been there a long time. Nice breasts by the way. She was one of Belphegor’s best accolytes in the sloth department. She would never have made a move until too late without Lev’s prodding.”
Lucifer waved his hand and the wall transformed to a one way viewing screen. The princes perched and reclined on any available horizontal space.
Asmodeus manifested their seating to comfortable leather cinema chairs. “Are we taking bets on who scores the most points?”
“Cake anyone. It would be such a shame to waste a perfectly good wedding cake.” Beelze-bub clicked his fingers and seven plates of wedding cake appeared in the air complete with magenta serviettes and silver cake forks. “Do we need to take score? Every time we end up at a wedding like this one it seems we come out even. Mmmm this is delicious.” A large chunk of icing coated fruit cake disappeared behind his appreciative lips.
“Oh look brothers, there is a marvellous fight going on and so much guzzling of the top shelf flavours. I wouldn’t mind some of that pate, Beelz if you don’t mind. Don’t let it all go to the food fight. Naughty girls, I do like them in magenta. Beelze-bub are you tickling the tastebuds out there?” A platter of food appeared.
“No Mammon that is your doing. Free booze always attracts an appreciative audience. Look, look, the bride is confronting that idiot almost groom. Oooo gorgeous right hook from the girl and he’s down.”
Six of the princes laughed and cheered.
“How do these things end up in our hands?” Lucifer allowed a wrinkle of puzzlement onto his perfect brow. He scrutinised the silver font on the magenta wedding invitation in his elegant hand. “We seem to be getting quite a few these days.” He shrugged his handsome shoulders and slipped the invitation back in his pocket. “Why don’t we all stir the pudding a little my brothers since our specialities work so well when mixed together?”
The seven princes twirled their index fingers widdershins and in unison toward the crowd of wedding guests then settled back to watch the show.

 from

Syqitten's Art Blog http://syqitten.tumblr.com/post/130836229952/there-was-a-horoscope-that-described-the-7-deadly

http://horrorpedia.com/2014/01/03/the-hierarchy-of-hell-whos-who-in-the-underworld/

Writing prompts 12

Could you give up everything to survive?


[WP] In the future robots with AI turn on humanity, however, they were programmed to not ever be able to enter Amish country. For now, Amish country is the only safe place left on earth. by dalcowboiz in WritingPrompts

 

We sat on plain wooden benches in a plain wooden hall. The faint smell of whitewash had many in the group blinking rapidly. The few surviving children clung to their parents. Haggard faces, gaunt from privation, thin limbs curled around loved ones, dull eyes avoiding the glance of others. We were a sorry lot. Many of us clutched battered bags and cases containing our most treasured possessions. One woman held a photo album to her chest. All of us had wounds and scars and grime encrusted our hair and skin. Making it this far past the A.I.s had taken all we had and we were glad for a moment of respite from the terror of the past year.
A group of elderly men stood in front of double doors at the opposite end of the room from where we had entered. They were dressed in plain white or blue shirts with braces to hold up their home spun cotton trousers. The oldest man with a puff of snowy white beard held up his hands to get our attention.
“It will be easier to drag my plough through the eye of my wife’s sewing needle than for many of you to embrace our lifestyle.” His accent was thick with Germanic highlights and glottal stops but we understood enough. “You must leave all vanities behind. All the things you carried here must remain in this room. You must let go your pride and embrace the joy of our lifestyle. We will not turn you out if you truly wish to stay but be warned, you have three turns of the moon to prove your heart is true. Our life is simple, the work of our hands is clean and in all things we dedicate our labours to the Lord.”
I could hear the capitalisation in his word. He truly believed there is a God. In a world gone mad with AI robots destroying their makers and all of humanity scrambling through rat holes to survive, this old man still believed in some higher power.
“Let us not belabour the facts. You must strip off your old life and put on the new. Those who wish to step through these doors must know we will not tolerate disobedience and pride, nor vanity in all its forms. You will be issued new clothing, one set only. If you stay, you will make your own clothing, if you leave, your old things will be waiting for you to take back out into the secular world you are running from. Come now and be welcome.”
Men and boys over twelve and women with younger children were corralled through separate side doors into change rooms and returned cleaner and dressed in plain cotton. Women fiddled with their new prayer caps, hats twisted unfamiliarly in the hands of the men. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Make up and jewellery including wedding rings were gone. No denim or spandex, no nylon, rayon or polyblends, no watches, no hair ties, no scrunchies or high heels, no wallets or handbags, suitcases or backpacks. No phones. No headsets. No computers. All of it stored in labelled boxes on shelves in the change rooms to collect in three months if we couldn’t take the change. We had no choice, stay and live, leave and die. Our rag tag group of survivors stepped through the double doors into our new life.

                                           

Writing prompt 11

Now this one was super duper fun with plenty of challenge. Would you read the book based on this climactic ending?

[WP] Write just the climax of an epic fantasy novel, without explaining the world, backstory or characters. by Amablue in WritingPrompts

Tesslia plunged her hands into the milky depths of the pool. The light burned along her nerves in excruciating waves but she pushed her arms deeper into the liquid. She could not fail, too much depended on this final act. The sounds of clashing swords and screams faded from her awareness as she felt her hands curl around the soft object they had worked so hard to find. Gently she began to lift it but the pearlescent water seemed to resist her. Sweat broke out on her forehead and the muscles in her arms became knotted cords in a desperate tug of war. Infinitesimally Tesslia felt her body tilting toward the swirling surface of the water the ridge of the pool pressing harder into her hips. She pressed her feet harder against the side.

Draviat glanced up in a moment of stillness in the battle to see Tesslia falling forward. He could not reach her in time. The gripping pain in his chest sucked his breath away then the moment melted into a mighty swing of his sword and he had no more attention to spare for the girl they had sworn to protect.

Edvar had fallen against the crumbling column, blood seeping from wounds too numerous to count. She lifted her hand and created a ball of flame in the palm of her hand. It flickered weakly. She snorted a little puff of air from her small nostrils. “So it ends like this?” she drew in as deep a breath as her battered body would allow.
“Do I have regrets? Too bloody many but I won’t go out without a light show they will not soon forget. For freedom!” she screamed. From somewhere deep in the sixth level she drew the final reserves of her strength, the last of her magic swelled and a mighty burst of iridescent flames burst across the battle. Drarks and Ventlings caught fire, iron tipped staves shrivelled to ash, swords and arrow heads melted and all were blinded momentarily by the vivid light. Many enemies collapsed screaming as their retinas blackened to useless.
“For peace.” The whisper puffed past her blue lips on her dying breath and her body slid to the floor.

“Noooooooooooooooooooo.” Invarg crashed through the bodies and weapons with a desperation bordering on berserker rage. He skidded across the final space on his knees and stopped beside her. Huge hands lifted the tiny frame gently from the floor and pressed her to his massive chest. A doll in his giant embrace. Great droplets fell from his eye, splashing away the blood from her face, so peaceful in death.

Draviat and Flit moved closer to the giant and tugged him to move back toward the pond.

“Invarg, they need you.” Edvar’s voice whispered in his mind. “Let the pool wash me.” The giant sobbed as he slid the tiny body into the milk pool and watched her sink beneath its opalescent sheen.

There was no sign of Tesslia.

The masses of the enemy were too numerous to keep down for long. Janielle still held her sword and leaped lightly across to join them. She too showed her exhaustion but she pulled Breen to his feet and pressed his sword into a blood soaked hand. The remnants of their little army gathered around the pool forming a ragged circle in a last ditch effort to protect the final dust mote of hope. The last twelve of hundreds looked with bleak dread as the hoards closed in on them.

Tesslia fell into the pool without a splash. The white liquid surrounding her deadened all her senses. She could not tell which direction she faced, if she still held the object, if there were temperature or time and she did not know if she were drowning or breathing. No sensory input to guide her. A brighter white mote of light in the surrounding drew her toward it. Slowly the shape of stars and galaxies replaced the white in an ebon sky and they spun past her faster and faster, comets, asteroids, planets, solar systems, galaxies and clouds of matter sped past where her stationary position. She felt that the whole universe had moved past her at the speed of thought then suddenly it stopped. She teetered on the edge of everything. A voice or a knowing whispered in her mind. She felt the inadequacy of the words even as she thought them and knew she would never be able to describe this experience and the voice that was not a voice. Peace flowed through her. She was all. She knew all. She felt all from the tiniest mote of dust falling through a sunbeam to the first cry of a baby to the giant stars exploding, imploding and being born. She could choose to be all of this, have all of this, the whole universe would be hers if she stepped forward, all things were hers for the taking and being.
Draviat. Love. No time and all time passed.
She stood by the pond clutching the bundle from the bottom of the pool. The ripples of light around her fluctuated through the many hues of the light spectrum, throwing ripples of colour across the devastation of a battle. She raised her free hand and spoke. Light moved across the floor in a golden wall sliding over bodies and weapons, rubble and stones. Where it touched, wounds healed, plaster repaired, weapons melted into blobs of molten steel, timber burst into leaf and rooted itself through the cracks in the floor. The enemy simply disappeared.  Tesslia sank to the floor and pulled back the cloth from the bundle in her arms. A small arm waved and a little drool dribbled down the tiny chin. The baby gurgled and managed a toothless grin. “So you are what all this fuss was about hey?”

Draviat dropped down beside her. She smiled as the baby curled her little fist around his finger.
 “You going to tell us what happened?”
 “I made my choice.” She leaned over and kissed his bristled cheek. “I chose you.”

Writing prompt 10

Now this was an interesting prompt considering the supposed sport of two women beating each other to a pulp here in Melbourne in the last week.

pmhttp://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-11-14/ronda-rousey-scuffle-mma-ufc-bout-weigh-in-holly-holm/6941320  
 

Photo: Ronda Rousey (left) and Holly Holm scuffle during the face-off at weigh-in in Melbourne. (AAP: Julian Smith)Sun at 4:01 

 

[WP] In the arena, two incredibly powerful (and badly written) Mary Sues must fight to the death. by LadySelene in WritingPrompts

“In the eastern corner, wearing skin tight leopard print spandex, weighing in at a perfect 110 pounds and with the perfectly proportioned body assets of a voluptuous chest, tiny waist and hips that make a man wish, Phd student and volunteer at an animal shelter. Best student in her knife throwing class and light sword brigade. Give it up for Mary Sue.” The crowd screamed and banged anything that could be banged on the floor of the arena. The ref held up his hands for silence and the crowd settled. “And in the western corner, wearing brass decorated leather and weighing in at an equally perfect 109 pounds, with legs that go all the way up and get cheeky, a chest that dreams are made of and butt cheeks tight enough to crack walnuts, also a Phd student and volunteer in an orphanage. Award winning archer and amazing with a sling. Show your approval for Susie Marie!” The crowd screamed and pounded as loud as before. The ref signalled for the ladies to approach him. Mary Sue flicked her gleaming golden locks and blew kisses to the audience before sauntering across in a hip swinging walk on teetering heels to the centre of the ring. Susie Marie twirled one russet plait around her finger and batted her long dark lashes over her sea green eyes and pouted her cupid bow lips, bending forward to blow her own kisses out before sashaying across the ring to the ref. The noise of the audience reached roar level. “Now ladies, this is a no holds barred event, the floor will roll back as soon as you return to your corners and you will fight in jelly. This is a fight to the death. The victor gains a reimbursement of her tuition fees and a scholarship plus a hefty donation to the charity of her choice. As a bonus she will also receive not one but two pair of shoes from the most exclusive shoe store in the land and six free steak knives.” The girls opened their eyes as round as saucers and the crowd jumped to its collective feet to pump the air and scream their enthusiasm. “But wait, there is more.” The referee held up both his hands and the girls circled the inside of the ring in opposite directions before returning to him. “Which ever of you wins this spectacular event, gets a date with… The Prince.” “No!” screamed Susie Marie and pretended to stick her fingers down her throat. “No!” screeched Mary Sue and firmly gripped her hips while lifted her chin defiantly. “She can have him!” They both yelled and pointed at each other. “You cannot forfeit the match. To do so will land you in a dungeon and all your worldly goods will be given to the richest teenagers in the land to destroy as they see fit.” The girls looked at each other and in an unspoken communication they came to an agreement. They stepped back to back and prepared to fight all comers until the floor dropped out beneath them and they sank thigh deep in jelly.

 https://mlpforums.com/topic/33663-definition-of-mary-sue/


 In fan fiction, a Mary Sue or, in case of a male character, Gary Stu or Marty Stu is an idealized character, a young or low-rank person who saves the day through extraordinary abilities. Often but not necessarily this character is recognized as an author insert and/or wish-fulfillment.

Mary Sue - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Sue

Writing prompt 9

 

This was a little ground hog day -ish.


[WP] No matter where you fall asleep when you wake up you are home in bed. by fisch09 in WritingPrompts

1 point 6 days ago 

I sat up and looked around at the familiar surroundings. My shoulders slumped. “This is getting ridiculous.” I swung my legs out of bed and slid on my old slippers. The new ones were with the rest of my luggage half way around the world. My second best dressing gown felt a little loose since last I wore it so I tugged the belt tighter. In the kitchen I look for milk and bread but I am not supposed to be here for another week so I don’t even know why I look. I make do with the non-perishables in the pantry. A bowl of porridge with some coconut blossom sugar and a dab of butter, not exactly the haute cuisine I had been enjoying only yesterday. Four hours later I am on another plane to Europe with a cheap replacement phone and my second best suit with temporary cards, a priority replacement passport and a huge hole in my savings. I actively avoid falling asleep on the long flight. I watch back to back movies and hum to myself, snack on foods and drink copious amounts of water from little plastic cups. We land at last and I take the taxi to my hotel. The concierge greets me and a porter assists me with my smaller suitcase. In my room I change to my best suit and head out to the conference with a stomach full of caffeine and stimulants. I have all of my important documents in my pockets this time, along with both phones switched to silent and both wallets. I push exquisite food around my plate, take a few sips of a delightful foreign wine and force my eyelids to stay open. My table companions gaze with rapt attention toward the speaker but my mind begins to wander and I feel my head tilting toward my plate. I open my eyes and groan. The wrinkles in my best suit will cost me at the dry cleaners. I pat down the pockets and pull out all my papers. I call the hotel and have them send my belongings home with the earliest international courier. I call work and tell them I am home early, they sound as puzzled as I feel. I wander around the house in my second best dressing gown and call all the services to let them know I am back. I hook up the old PC to go online and it is as ancient and slow as I remember, I order groceries and hope my laptop survives the return trip. I rummage in the cupboards for a can of soup and bemoan the fate of the delicacies I left on my plate. I was really looking forward to the food over there. I was looking forward to exploring the world. Someday I may figure this out but for now I know I can never go anywhere overnight. Just like my parents always insisted. My horizons shrink.

Writing prompts 8

 

 I did not know there were so many words in the English language that had no perfect rhyme. This was a particularly fun challenge attempting to fit in around 70 of them to this little story.


[WP] The police employ a Seer whose prophecies are in rhyming couplets. As a master criminal, you have to devise crimes that centre around things that do not rhyme. by ArcticTern4theWorse in WritingPrompts

3 points 6 days ago 

They sat around the table eating pizza. Angel the pedant, felt angry and anxious but made the comment for the hundredth time that her bulbous nose husband knew the secret of the seer’s foibles and could discombobulate the dangerous powers of the justice system. By utilising a pint of liquid nitrogen in the belly of an empty purple polka dot penguin which he would place strategically in the shadow by the chimney in the foyer of the Walrus hotel they would misdirect the iron eye of the law. Wearing nothing but olive reptile prints while carrying a piece of orange luggage containing a neutron engine and moving in a zigzag line past the office of the concierge, he could bypass the sandwich bar and create a monster explosion which would disguise him stealing the silver and diamonds, and at the ninth hour hide them in the rhythm section of this month’s orchestra. Angel sanctioned the plan after considering the problem of her husband and his dodgy elbow perhaps prematurely setting off the bulb that will sit inside the penguin. At the twelfth hour the plan is to transfer the silver and diamond’s into condoms in the vacuum in the laundry, while the string quartet plays a fugue. Angel gulped an asprin with some citrus juice and nibbled some chocolate to calm her nerves. She promised her husband he would be a bachelor if this plan fell to chaos. He rolled some cannabis and sat back to watch a SF film about wolf men and circus denizens of a distant galaxy. Relax my almond eyed love, he said and puffed some smoke in her direction, it is obvious we will succeed. As a couple we won’t let a single rhyme mulct us of our treasure



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_English_words_without_rhymes

mulct

verb

1. 1.

   extract money from (someone) by fine or taxation.

   
   

   "no government dared propose to mulct the taxpayer for such a purpose"

   • take money or possessions from (someone) by fraudulent means.

     
     

     "a rapacious old woman who would never miss the few dollars mulcted of her"

noun

noun: mulct; plural noun: mulcts

1. 1.

   a fine or compulsory payment.

Writing prompt 7

[WP] The zombie apocalypse happens, only since most bodies have already decomposed, it's not walking corpses we have to worry about, it's the living dirt. by Gamablaze in WritingPrompts

Stepping stones are treacherous when wet. We used to only need them in the creeks to get across but now they are everywhere and it is vital to keep them clean. Free of dirt and dust. That’s my job. I have to teeter on one stone and brush the next one clean then hop on that one and clean the next along. Used to be we had to shovel snow in winter and sweep the leaves in Autumn now we all clean stepping stones. It is the only way since the zombie apocalypse. The poor buggars were already rotting in their graves and falling apart. It was easy to get away from them and some of us played slam the toad with bats and racquets to knock their heads off or their legs. We forgot they had been people. Problem is once they hit the ground they disintegrated and the dirt became a bigger problem. It’s zombie dirt. All zombie dirt now and anyone who is stupid enough to walk on bare earth will die. Houses have become hermetically sealed dust free environments. Food is grown in sterilized hydroponics and no one walks outside, ever. Except when we have to, like now when it’s my turn to clean the darn stepping stones.

Writing prompt 6

[WP] As death, you should be numb to the cruelty of humans you're exposed to on a daily basis. You come across a butchered body of a small child in the woods and the murderer running away from the scene. You have the ability to take anyone's life without consequence. What do you do? by everythingskulls in WritingPrompts

“Come with me little one.” She placed her tiny hand trustingly in mine. We both stood and watched her murderer run from the scene.
“He’s a bad man.” She lisped then stuck a pudgy thumb in her mouth.
“Indeed.”
“He hurt me.” She turns her huge eyes up to me and I watch the dying moments of her life in her memories. “It doesn’t hurt now.”
Humans are complex creatures and far too often they use violence in the most abhorrent ways. Little of what they do surprises or moves me. I have seen child victims too often for this one to be any more or less horrific than the others but today I am edgy. Something about this murder, in this dark dank part of old growth forest, tugs at me. Life is such a precious gift I wonder why humans waste it so easily. I guide those who need to pass over I do not take lives but I am reminded that I am capable of taking a life with impunity if I choose to. I gently squeeze the child’s hand and walk her through to the light then come back to watch the murderer.
He is scrubbing his hands. He looks up at his reflection and sees me standing behind him. His eyes widen and he stops moving. I fade out and he resumes his scrubbing after a short hesitation. The child’s blood pours down the drain with the water. I watch him throw his clothes in the machine with plenty of bleach and powder. He puts it on a hot wash. I lock the electricity in place and he begins to punch the machine when it does not start. He kicks it and leaves the laundry. In the kitchen he starts to make coffee. His hands are shaking so much the sugar spills across the bench. I move the sugar into the face of a skull. He stares at it the wipes it off the bench with the side of his hand. He finishes making his coffee and I switch the kettle back on. He flicks it off. I switch it back on. He snarls and throws the kettle across the room, splashing boiling water over everything in its path to the final destination lodged in the plaster of the far wall. I wander into the living room and switch on the giant tv screen. “What the-?” he rushes into the room and trips over my foot which he can’t see of course. He plants his face in the rug and I hold him there for a minute while he struggles to get up. Dog hair and old food are embedded in the fibers which find a new home in his nostrils and mouth. I let him up. He lumbers to his feet and looks around warily. I flick through the channels, stopping at words to send a message to him. I could just manifest and speak to him but it isn’t as much fun. ‘murder –know – where you – old forest – child – murderous –.” He backs out of the room, throwing the remote at the screen. I make sure it lands without breaking anything. He slams the front door so hard it bounces open again but he doesn’t stop to shut it. I watch him spray gravel across the driveway as he takes off in his truck. I make friends with his dog. I like dogs. The dog is rib thin. I will come for him soon, In the pub, the murderer is on his fourth beer. He is sweating. A bubble of isolation has formed around him. His belligerence acts as a force field keeping others instinctively away. He glances up to the mirror behind the bar and sees me sitting beside him. He yells and falls from the bar stool. Other patrons glance over and frown but no one approaches or offers a hand. I stare at him and he scuttles backwards away from me. “Get away. Get out of my head.” I stand up and move slowly toward him so he leaps to his feet and runs for the door. He calls to others to help keep me away from him but they move away as if his madness is catching. He climbs in his truck and guns the engine. I sit beside him as he careens down the highway. Blue and red lights flash behind him. He puts his foot harder on the accelerator and the truck lurches wildly. The police give chase. He glances in the rear view mirror and sees me. He screams. He drags the wheel to one side as he tries to turn and see me. The truck flips and rolls down an embankment. I make sure he is not hurt. Not even a scratch. The police drag him from the wreckage. A pink ribbon flutters out of the wreckage to his feet. One police officer picks it up, staring at it then him and back to the ribbon. “Where is she, bastard?” They cuff his arms behind him and push him into the back of the police car. They call the station and report the wreckage and the ribbon. I sit beside him for the journey. He knows I am there. I let him see me a little. Occasionally I appear to him as the little girl and he starts to moan. “Shut up! I don’t want another sound out of you until you tell me where she is.” one of the police officers yells. The car takes a few corners too sharply and the murderer is knocked around in the back seat. Hundreds of pink ribbons float eerily slow from the roof to his lap, piling up on him like fairy floss. He starts to scream but cannot brush them off while his hands are cuffed. The police call through that they may need a medic. The pink ribbons evaporate and turn to forest moss that covers all his clothes and arms, creeping up his neck to his face. Worms slide into his ears and leeches move in slimy loops up to his face. Blood begins to seep out of his skin. He thrashes and tugs to break free. The legal and medical process is as complex as the people. He breaks down and confesses. They find the remains of her mutilated body. They declare him fit to stand trial. I pop in now and then to check the progress. He is in solitary confinement where I visit him and sit on his commode while he screams. He is facing the death penalty.
Humans are such cruel creatures. They have taught me so much.
I will come for him when they have done the job.

Writing prompt 5

It is amazing what comes out of the brain with a good writing prompt.

[WP] You are Ra. The morning and evening star. The God of the Sun. You're trying to live a normal life in the American suburbs. by NoahJWatkins in WritingPrompts

 

“Oh my God, Ra, can you dampen down the glow a bit?” My wife covered her face with a pillow and I sheepishly dimmed my aura.
“Sorry honey, I was reading my stock report and felt a little excitement…”
She rolled onto her side and groaned. “Don’t wanna know, need sleep, kidslbeupin zzzzzzzzzzz”
I tugged the quilt up over her shoulder and dimmed my aura to the merest gleam and spooned in behind her.
“Dada, dada, make the day, make sunny for me.” Tefnut bounced up and down on the bed, her raven curls bouncing with her. Shu rolled his eyes and stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed in five year old disgust at his younger sister. “DaDa make sun.”
“What time is it?” I pulled Tefnut into a hug. Her giggles always make my heart sing. I stood up with her in my arms and ruffled Shu’s head as I walked toward the bathroom.
“It’s already five thirty Dad. Mother says you better get a move on, the sun won’t come up on its own.” His voice perfectly mimicked his mothers and I failed to hide my grin.
Shu walked out of the room, Tefnut wriggled to get out of my arms and I set her on the floor. She toddled on her chubby legs after her brother.
“Shoo-Shoo wait for me.”
I think I could easily cope with three or maybe four more daughters. I am sure I can charm my lovely wife into agreeing with me. The thought is enough to send the sun into the sky in a firey display. I jog down the stairs to the kitchen carrying my shoes. The smell of fresh coffee caresses my nostrils and I kiss Hathor’s neck after she hands me the coffee.
“Not in front of the children Ra, my God.” She smiled at me even through the scold. “The neighbours are coming for a barbeque on Saturday. The new Scandinavians at number seven seem nice, I am going to invite them over too so could you please pick up some ice and an extra bottle of white on your way home.”
“Of course my beloved.”
She looked at me with that look. The one that said I had best not light the bbq with supernatural matches or show off. It is so important to her that we seem normal suburban people.
“Are the Rhomaion’s coming too? I cannot stand how they always try to copy the Hellenica’s and then think it was all their idea in the first place, tell me you didn’t invite them?”
“No, they had a prior festival to attend but the Hellenica’s are coming and I invited the twins from number twelve. Here’s your lunch.” She handed me a paper bag and kissed my cheek before turning to her morning routine with the kids.
“You be good at school today Shu and no showing off. Remember we have to fit in.” I knelt down to be face to face with my son, he pouted.
“Human kids are dumb Dad, why can’t I do things to them?”
“I tell you what Shu, how about you and I go for a camping trip. We can both take Monday off and go up into the mountains on Sunday and practice away from prying eyes. Would you like that?” His eyes lit up and the pout disintegrated into a smile.
“Do you promise Dad?”
“It will be our reward for not smiting any humans this week. Can you promise me too?”
“I promise.” His solemn little face made my heart swell with pride.
“Good boy, now off to school and keep your bike on the road please.” He threw his arms around my neck and I squeezed him firmly. I watched him ride off down the street with his backpack lifting behind him.
“Slow down.” I yelled but he didn’t need to hear my voice to slow his speed. The yelling was for the neighbours. I waved to the Asian gentleman across the street collecting his paper from the front lawn. We both gave a slight bow and walked back into our homes. I felt her before she slid her arms around my waist. I covered her arms with mine and clasped her hands.
“You are going to have to start taking Tefnut. She is showing signs and will need some training before kindergarten. She spat in the bath last night and it was all I could do to stem the overflow. I don’t want her drowning small things in a bird bath.”
“So it has come. Well, we will have precocious children.” I could feel her laugh against my back and turned to pull her into my arms. I breathed her scent and kissed the top of her head. Being human had made me appreciate the wonder in simple things.
“Time to go to work. See you at six love.”
“Drive safe, and keep the car on the road. You are not invulnerable, well maybe you are but the car isn’t and I do want to stay here a while longer. Love you.”
I watched in the rear view mirror as she waved to me and my heart glowed.
It would be unseasonably warm today.