It's my birthday, and here's what I want from LitReactor.
The Game of Threes
I will take the first three prompts.
Each prompt will have three words, no more.
I will write three paragraphs over each prompt.
I have to respond with the results within three days.
I'm not sure if LitReactor has a birthday tradition, but I'm starting this one.
Well, first, happy birthday.
I will give you one prompt, the other two can come from two others.
Prompt: What's for dinner?
Moon Pie Tokens
Prompt: Harry Potter lost
I had a kick-ass prompt for you, but J got there first. So, I shall save mine for your next birthday.
Alright, R.Moon, I had about ten minutes during a lunch break. I had fun with this one.
What's for Dinner?
Every fairy tale he had read while training to become a little boy had warned him against accepting food from strange and beautiful women. Her eyes blazed from across the table as she waited, her chin rested on a curled, pale fist. The smell of the food made him feel warm and light.
Time passed silently. She dipped a finger into a chalice and stirred, turning the water inky and dark as her nail scratched the metal at the bottom of the cup. She drank deeply, and the horrible stuff left an oily black film on her lips. She didn't seem to mind.
His empty belly ached unhelpfully, and his stomach acid ate away at his willpower. She smiled widely with stained teeth as he reached for a lightly-browned dinner roll from the steaming platter. Just a bite couldn't hurt.
Hey this is a fucking good idea. Wish I had shown up earlier.
Hey, there are lots of people here with birthdays, I'm assuming. Anyone who wants to do it can.
And Photon, I'm totally tracking you down next year for a guaranteed prompts.
Sweet, I like long-term stalking commitments!
Helluva job on the three paragraphs, by the way. I really dug it.
Now I want a lightly browned roll.
Harry Potter Lost
His forked tongue wandered outside his lipless mouth as he kicked the limp body in front of him. No response, other than a pitiful oozing from the wound. The boy was definitely dead. Finally dead.
He looked around to make sure nobody was watching amongst the chaos of the wizarding battle before letting the pistol drop from the hidden place in his black robes. It fell with a clatter next to the body, smoke still rising faintly from the barrel. He pointed his wand at the evidence of his hypocrisy.
"Evanesco!" he hissed, and the gun faded from sight. Then, to the body, "Confringo!" The corpse burst into wet flames, and was consumed, bullet hole and all. Nobody would ever know the secret of the Dark Lord's power. Just as it had always been.
Yay, now Ginny is single!!!
Yes, I actually did look up those spell names. Because I both rock and roll at the same time.
Hey, you got a cat on your shoulder, so we already knew you were completely rockstar.
Here's the last story. You might guess that I struggled a bit before I wrote this today before leaving my bed.
Moon Pie Tokens
I knew I could not give the Sound what it wanted. Its challenge spun in my head like a bad dream, the kind of nightmare that wakes you up with boiling nausea, and throbs in that deep, hidden part of your skull. This was all my fault.
There was no way to win. If I complied with the Sound, then it knew I would fail. I would create mediocrity, an abomination of my craft. But refusing to play was worse. I had summoned the Sound, and it had answered. There was no going back.
I pulled another canine from my gums and dropped it unceremoniously onto the pages, leaving blotchy red where black scribbles had once lived, now smeared and infected by the Red Tide. I pondered whether or not I was worthy of my own art, and the tool which now stuck embedded in the wall, my own Sword in the Stone. The thought of trying to draw it again frightened me, draining me of my vitality. As another tooth dropped onto the page, I thought I heard a Sound behind me.
But that w
Damn, that rocks... Three shots, three kills. You're a fuckin' literary sniper!
This was fun. Thanks, all.