The Self-Styled Countess_Prompt; Down Memory Lane_Let There Be Life_A Chat With Steven
Catalog Guide:
The Self-Styled Countess
“So explain to me again who this woman is, exactly?” Magistrate Cornelius asked, his official robes billowing slightly in the morning breeze.“She claims to be the Countess of Waterfield, sir,” answered Thomas Tiller, a local landlord.“Claims to be?” Cornelius snorted. “Ridiculous. Count Grantworth died during the Uprising of the Nobility. The title can’t even be claimed through the female line.”“I’m aware, Magistrate but you try telling her that,” said Thomas in a tired voice. “I’ve tried to be accommodating sir, I really have. But she refuses to be reasonable.”“And that’s always been your pro...
Prompt; Down Memory Lane
It’s Friday and I have that Friday feeling! I just got the email from Reedsy wiwww.onedoor.ccth this week’s prompts. Wow, I can’t believe it. The prompts this week are brilliant, not even that. I already have a great story which I’ve never used, and it is just perfect for this week’s prompts. What are the chances of that?Now, where have I got that great story saved? I wrote it a while ago, maybe a couple of months ago. It’s a sure winner this week. It will probably get a couple of hundred likes, or a couple of thousand even. And the prize money, $250 dollars. Wow, I’m not sure what I will spend the money ...
Let There Be Life
Jennett screamed as the thin bones in her forearm snapped. The servo-suited mugger had grabbed her too hard in his excitement. With his other hand, he snatched her bag, ripping it painfully from her. Jennett screamed again as he suddenly let go of her broken arm. She hit the cold, wet concrete hard. Protectively, she curled her defenseless little body around her crushed limb, and sobbed as the freezing rain rattled around her."You're sure this is going to work?" said Jennett to the man standing behind the lab-coated woman that stood smiling down at her."For what you're paying for it, it had be...
A Chat With Steven
When you looked at Steven, the very first thing you noticed were his leaves. A dark, waxy green with a lighter underside and faint lines, or is it veins? Whatever it is that plants have, running along from the supple and slightly floppy edges down the branching stem. They weren’t large, but not exactly small either. You would get the urge to say they’re dinner plate sized simply because that feels like a comfortable metaphor to use, but in reality they fell in that undefined area between dinner plates and large teacup saucers. Once your mind had fully parsed the mysteries of Steven’s leaf size...