Interview No. Seven

“Resurrecting the dead wasn’t easy, but it taught me a lot about working collaboratively within a team, and maintaining the proper procedures associated with it.” Seven said, gesticulating with his hands, miming a flourish.

There was a glimmer of something metal on one of his wrists – was that brass? A bracelet? Those look like runes. Those were definitely rune carvings. Simon reclined into his office chair, furrowing his pepper-white eyebrows together.

“I mean, it’s one thing to speak some Latin and wave your hands, but it’s another thing when you have to coordinate waking times with the refurbishers, yikes!” Seven continued.

Aren’t those bracelets mandatory accessories for pro necros? Humph. He’s certainly not the kind of caster that should be applying to work in an entry-level position.

Simon scribbled down on the interview sheet. Seven has a habit of talking too much. Perhaps inferiority complex? Casual use of language is horrendous. He had no qualms when he underlined the last word with his black ink fountain pen.

“Not to mention working with the cleaners who have to mop up all those gastrointestinal reflexes that come rushing back when we resurrect them-”

Is he seriously talking about anatomical projectiles? Great. Seven’s lax with protocol. Shoddy at keeping confidentiality. And when is Seven going to stop yakking?

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The Terrarium

The glass ceiling to the terrarium opened with a soft clattering. Then, the Hand appeared with its thin and bony body. Blotted in soot, the Hand reached towards them with outstretched fingers.

It was Urs’ turn to take watch, after their botched escape attempt yesterday left the two of them in this hot desert with no food or water. Unlike the swamp world that Urs nearly drowned in, this landscape was humid and sandy, his throat dry with thirst.

At the sight the cruel Hand, Urs attempted to stand up on all fours. His joints wobbled from exhaustion and he huffed short, wheezy breaths from his dark snout. Fresh air trickled in, laced with crisp nectar and wood from outside. Urs let out a soft grunt, his snout pointed at the only other captive stuck here with him, who was snoring softly on a rock nearby.

When the bushy creature resting on the rock didn’t stir, Urs limped forward with his paws until he was face to face with it. He poked hard against its belly, rising and falling with every breath.

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How To Curtsey

Once there was a girl named Lucille who had a pair of very rich, very important, and very neglectful parents. As a daughter of the esteemed Rouxbelle family, she had, on paper, everything she could wish for.

Every day Lucille woke up to a bell by the tall, lanky Bisset or the shout and stout Bertrand, or perhaps an hour late by the forgetful Bouchard, her family’s manservants. Her short black hair would be combed, and her outfit of the day, already chosen invisibly by her father, would be folded at the end of the bed.

After getting dressed in blue or red silk, she would say good morning to each and every one of her toys; Chechat, the hand stitched cat who Lucille often had adventures with in the attic, looking for ghosts. Lapinny, the velvet rabbit who she would bring to the rather real pet rabbits in the garden. Cygnella, a wooden swan puppet who she imagined was an empress of a far off land, and Lucille would have to use her chess-troops to defend her territory. And finally, her most favourite, her stuffed polar bear, Glace, donned with a striped orange ribbon, whom she did everything with.

Other than the rabbits, and her pony, and personal chef, manservants and strict, formidable Monsieur Mouton, her tutor for one hour per day, the only real living thing that was not a toy was her beloved Herbert, her pet monkey.

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The Paperbox Doll

The two of them were not special by any means, but they were old hats when it came to the ins-and-outs of Messier’s Magical Toy Shop, located on the sixteenth level of Bethelbezier City. As such, it was their duty to tell the still-green toys that came through the back door what to expect when they were put on display, before being sold to the local children.

“Always look your best.” Pompal the Polar Bear would caution them gently, while the toymaker – a bow-legged little goblin by the name of Jess – was distracted at the front with the customers. “If you look your best, you’ll sell faster, and if you sell faster your brothers and sisters will sell too. It’s good for business.”

The still-green toys would nod, smelling of fresh wood and fresh varnish and the brown paper packages they always arrived in. Every time, they would sit around Pompal, looking up at the feather-stuffed polar bear with nervous, glassy eyes. This was important information they were told, and everyone knew it.

“It’s for the best if you look the best.” Pompal would continue in between chimes of the brass bell knocker hanging above the front door. “Those that don’t sell, they don’t go to nice places. The go to the bad places beneath the city. They go to The Underdark.”

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August 2014 Prompts (And Updates)

We’re back!

It’s been a long time since any of us posted anything, and to be honest none of us expected to take a break for this long. Work’s been speeding up for all three of us over the past couple weeks, and while we’ve already cut out the challenges for the time being in order to compensate for this, July just sort of slipped away from us. It happens.

Good news – we’re back to posting again, and we’ve got a bit of a queue going so weekly updates shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Below, you’ll find August’s prompts.

Theme Prompt: Write about a polar bear, a monkey, and a wind-up doll.

Challenge Prompt: N/A

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