save point

They had created a written language all their own to hide messages from prying eyes.  They had a hangout they routinely gathered at to discuss ideas and formulate plots.  They had strict membership requirements to make sure that only the best candidates could join their ranks.  But, for a secret organization, as they styled themselves, they weren’t very secretive or organized.

Frank and Charles bummed rides from their parents and they met in John’s parents’ basement.  Their meetings rarely stayed on topic.  They had yet to agree upon a course of action or attempt a single coup.  Usually they ended up just watching movies and playing video games, their master plans for world domination left strewn across the top of their workbench, which every other night of the week doubled as a washing machine.

Everyone at school knew about their club, too.  The three members thought that because no one had approached with any interest of joining that meant they had managed to keep their existence somewhat quiet.  The truth, however, was that none of the other students wanted anything to do with their madness.  Frank, Charles, and John would have been find with that if they had known.  They’d have liked being thought of as mad.

They were mad.  Mad with a world spiraling out of control.  Mad about their inability to do anything about that.  Mad that they seemed to be standing alone against the bleak future.  As they went round and round trying to come up with something that might work, one brilliant idea for the rest of the world to latch on to and embrace before it was too late, they would eventually become mad at themselves too for not being able to agree on anything.

Their voices would raise, their fists would pump animatedly, and one parent of the other would yell down the stairs to “keep it down” or “knock it off” and then the three would roll their eyes, make truces, and take much needed breaks to clear their thoughts and start over.  The gaming consoles were never out of arms reach.

The fate of the world could wait until they’d reached the next save point.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I don’t know.  I picked one of the prompts and these were the words that came to me for it.  What would you write about for this week’s InMonster writing challenge?

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

WINDOW LIZARDS

MERCURY POISONING

SECRET ORGANIZATION

TIME STAMP

THE FINAL FRONTIER

the senses working together

Greg and his father stood on the porch, the elder’s forearms and the child’s chin sharing space next to each other on the wooden railing.  Greg had to stand on his tip toes and stretch his neck to get his chin over the beam.  His little fingers clamped on to balance him in place.

Their eyes spanned the distance from front yard to the hazy horizon and back again.  The damp grass, the cold concrete, and the packed soil perfumed the air unpolluted by the normal scents of day.  Dawn danced on their exposed flesh, a waltz of shivers and chills as the temperature dropped in preparation for the sun.  Greg licked his lips.  He could taste the day that was about to begin.

But, there was something off about the whole process.  He looked up to his father, his brows furrowed in thoughtful concern, “It’s the wrong tone.”

Greg’s dad looked down at him with a smile and a small chuckle, “Don’t worry, it will come around.”

Unconvinced, the child returned his attention to experiencing the sunrise.  Everything felt right, as it all had moments before, except the sound was still off.  Something was missing.  He frowned in his father’s direction and opened his mouth to restate his worries, but, then, a bird from one of the nearby oaks lent her voice to the air.

It quivered and hung, trilled and dropped, rose triumphantly and then seemed to be faltering when another bird joined in.  And then another.  And then another.

Greg, listening, smiled.  The taste was perfect.  The smell was perfect.  The touch was perfect.  The sight was perfect.  And, now, the sound was perfect too.  The world was ready for the sun to rise again.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

I had to use the characters from last week’s Inspiration Monday writing challenge again for this week’s.  The prompt that jumped out at me required that I return to them.  Don’t you agree?

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

A DAY LATE

OASIS

BARKER AND BITER

INVISIBLE NATION

THE WRONG TONE

the sky reborn

“Daddy.”

Greg whispered as he poked his sleeping father in the eye.  Standing on his tiptoes he had just enough stretch in his fingers to reach the edge of his dad’s left eye.  He had wanted to peel back the lid to see if his dad was faking, but he couldn’t manage it.  So, he poked.  Several times.

A giant hand emerged from under the covers to fly-swat Greg’s fingers away.  With a grumble and a series of popping joints, the sleeping giant rolled closer to the eagerly awake child.

“Daddy,” he whispered again, prying open the man’s right eye and peering into its depths, a wild grin dancing in time with his mischievous eyes.  “Come on, it’s starting.  Come and watch with me, please.”

There was urgency in Greg’s tiny voice and that, more than having his eye prodded, roused the father from slumber.  “What is starting?”

“The sky is being reborn!”  The excitement in Greg’s voice carried it from whisper to shout and bounced the words around the four walls of the bedroom.

Unseen, stealth under the covers, Greg’s mom gently shoved her husband towards the edge of the bed, encouraging him to get up and take their child to watch the sunrise and leave her in peace to catch a few more minutes of peace, or face the consequences.

Slippers on, yawning, Greg’s dad shuffled from the room, haltingly being pulled by the exuberant boy.  He longed to stop and fill his hand with a warm mug of coffee, but time would not allow such indulgences.  The porch beckoned.  Morning was coming quickly.

“What do you mean, ‘the sky is being reborn?'”

The mumbled words might have seemed unintelligible, but Greg had no problem deciphering their meaning.  He’d had five years to learn the language of sleepy Daddy.  “Oh Dad, stop being silly.”

“No, really,” he rubbed his eyes and closed the screen door behind him as he stepped into full consciousness, “what did you mean by that?”

“Well, every night the sky dies, right?  So, every morning it must be reborn!”  Greg was practically jumping in anticipation of the revival.

His father, on the other hand, scrunched up his face into the same one he made when he claimed his head hurt sometimes on the late afternoons of days that had run too long.  “The dying sky…?”

A moment later as the first hint of orange caressed the horizon and began to push away the dark, life over taking death, understanding dawned.   “Greg, night is just night, the sky doesn’t actually die!”

Greg was too engrossed in the miracle he was witnessing to hear his father’s words.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

I’ve been meaning write something happy and silly for a couple days, and this week’s Inspiration Monday prompts provided the perfect opportunity:

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

THE DYING SKY

WHAT NOW?

HANG UP

ALIEN EARTH

FOR THE LAST TIME

playful and haunting

A symphony plays across the heavens, at times beautiful, at times tragic.  Tears of sadness and joy fall unchecked to soak into the listening earth.  The audience is so enthralled they don’t mind or even notice.

The notes rise and fall, intertwined, and caressing those lucky enough to witness the masterpiece.  The bass sweeps over the land in waves of pressure.  The treble dances along, playful and haunting.  The clefs work together and against each other producing a cacophony of discordant and harmonious tones.

As the end nears, the music reaches a deafening crescendo, forcing the world to pay attention, humbling those closest to the orchestra.  The fierce instruments roar with life and death.  The drenched land trembles and then throws its arms wide in jubilation as the final note fades to the horizon.

Silence follows, thick and heavy, crushing the world under its weight.

Then lightning flashes trying to forever capture the final moments of the performance and thunder claps with exuberance, demanding an encore that will never come.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Not sure what to say about this one.  I saw the Inspiration Monday prompt and this is what came to me when I placed my fingers on the keyboard.  What are you inspired to write with the below prompts?

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

STREET ROYALTY

THINGS YOU WISH YOU KNEW

THUNDER CLAPS

THOUGHT INHIBITOR

JUST ONE MORE

a need

He met the dealer on the corner, as he’d been instructed to do.

He’d finally broken free of the morals that had been taught at him from his childhood, and took a taste at a friends party a few weeks back.  He’d been warned that it could be addictive but he’d just puffed up his chest and replied those sorts of things didn’t happen to him.  Except, they had.  He’d never had anything so divine.

The tasting had turned into a sampling.  The sampling had morphed into a craving over the days that followed.  And, as the addiction settled in, the craving turned into a need.  He had reached out to his friend, the one that had originally offered him the taste, and the friend had told him how to contact the dealer.

And, so, when the need grew too great to ignore, he had.

The soft light from the nearby street lamp bathed their brief exchange in an ethereal glow.  Part of him couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated.  A month before he couldn’t have imagined ever meeting a dealer on the street at midnight in a questionable part of town.  A month before he didn’t truly understand the words “need” and “addiction.”

“Do you have any garlic?”  He whispered and winced as his voice carried in the darkness.  His head twitched as his eyes danced up and down the streets, peering into every shadow.

“That’s an illegal spice, man, I don’t trade in that.  Wouldn’t you rather have some Molly, Mickey, or Mary?”

He shook his head defiantly.  “No, only garlic will do.”  He hadn’t even heard of the other three.  They didn’t interest him at all.  Not yet, anyway.

The dealer began to walk away, “You look like a cop to me, man.  And, if you ain’t, this is no place for someone like you to be.  Go home and sleep it off.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice quivered as the depth of his need poured out of him.

The dealer stopped and turned back.  He recognized that need.  It was what set the true customers apart from the cops.  “Okay, man, I can set you straight.  How much you want?”

“How much do you have?”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I think I’m hungry this morning.  Everything I want to write has to do with food.  Perhaps I should go find some of that and set myself straight?  In the meantime, as if you hadn’t already guessed, this bit of silliness was in response to the current Inspiration Monday writing challenge:

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

SQUANDERED VISION

SEE IN THE DARK

BROKEN  CLOCK

ILLEGAL SPICE

ORNITHOPTER

So, dear kingdomites, tell me, what do you need?