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Prompt #1084

"Please, swear you won't be mad at me."

"I feel anger rising up."

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The floating gardens were sacred. An altar of harvest for all those who find it to eat until full. Of course an attempt to take more than you can consume would lead to immediate reimbursement. If you dug even an inch beneath the surface the bright white of bone would smile up to greet you.

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"Do you think he saw us?"

"No, but I certainly heard you lot trouncing around my palace like a herd of elephants. If you've stolen anything I'll remove your hands."

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"You wish for me to make you a cure?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why should I help you? Why should I make it for you? That plant is rare and precious. You should be trying to convince me that it is not a waste to use it on you."

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 jesse orrico

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"Là, sous mes yeux, apparaissait une ville détruite"

Alphonse de Neuville (1835-1885) - Ruined City

Illustration from Jules Verne's "Twenty thousand leagues under the sea", 1870

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Art for Crusader Kings III by Pavel Golovii

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Art by 三叠色 Size

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prompt 2394

As a warm-up, pick a topic and write a word list for it. Here's an example:

Words associated with books:

page

contents

chapter

endpapers

margins

dropped caps

binding

flyleaf

dedication

title

cover

library

reading

censorship

shelf

hardback

paperback

edition

printing

antique

leather bound

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🥳🔪🕺🔥💃✨️🤗🎉🤩🎊❤️‍🔥🤪🗡😈🎉🤺

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A little advice from someone studying extremist groups: if you’re in a social media environment where the daily ubiquitous message is that you have no hope of any kind of future and you can’t possibly achieve anything without a violent overthrow of society, you’re being radicalized, and not in the good way.

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You’ve always had difficulty falling asleep, though you’re sure anyone would if they saw a hunched figure watching them from the corner of their room every time they tried to sleep. Nothing ever happens to you when you do fall asleep, but by then you get very little sleep, and wake up anxious. 

One night you decide to pretend to fall asleep. After ten minutes of laying there, you wonder if anythings actually going to happen, when suddenly you feel deathly cold, clawed fingers, gently brush over your warm skin. Your blankets are tucked tighter around you, and a rasping voice speaks quietly in the room. “Sleep well little one.”

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"Your ambitions aim too high."

"For a coward like you, maybe."