Thirteen years!
Oct. 6th, 2006 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosipheleeEek! I just looked at the date - it's the 6th October, which means I've been writing for 13 years (ie, longer than my Year Sevens have been alive -_-)
In celebration, give me drabble prompts! (And yes, Shaiel, I'll even take one of your challenges ^_^) As many as you like (I'm going to regret that...)
In celebration, give me drabble prompts! (And yes, Shaiel, I'll even take one of your challenges ^_^) As many as you like (I'm going to regret that...)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-10-06 11:23 am (UTC)You've got a whole year on me ... this year was only Isaille's 12th birthday!
Okay, let me think. (You asked for it, after all.) My prompt is ... lucky thirteen!
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Date: 2006-10-06 06:57 pm (UTC)The door crashed back. Emli stumped in, flinging her bag down behind her. Lyn looked up from her books, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Emli snarled, dropping into the nearest chair, hugging her knees.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“Everything I do goes wrong. It’s not fair.” She pressed her face against her knees and said, voice muffled, “Everything I do goes wrong, and then everybody hates me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Lyn said mildly, leaning against the chair. She could guess what was wrong.
“You’re the only one, then.”
Yes, a classic case of the luck of being thirteen.
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Date: 2006-10-06 12:41 pm (UTC)Congratulations!
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Date: 2006-10-06 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 12:46 pm (UTC)For a very fleeting moment, I considered asking Starbright for another challenge myself. This moment passed quickly. You are a brave, brave woman for voluntarily possibly taking another on.
*considers* As you're asking... My prompt shall be... warm woollen mittens
(Sorry, I have music on the brain...)
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Date: 2006-10-06 07:55 pm (UTC)Ocelot glared back, trying to control her shivering, arms wrapped over her chest and shoulders hunched around her bare neck. “It’s below freezing.”
Tiger’s face twitched, as if she was trying to lift an eyebrow under the mask. “And?”
Ocelot glared back. The frost was forming on the glassy towers around them, black and gleaming. “And I’m cold.”
The wind sighed past, making her shudder.
Tiger flinched.
“See!” Ocelot snapped. “Even you’re cold.”
Tiger shrugged, breath huffing out in a cloud. “ Even so. Woolly Mittens?”
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Date: 2006-10-06 03:26 pm (UTC)*rubs hands together*
You do realise how hard that's going to be in drabble form, don't you?
Hmm... *thinks* Seeing as becca is too busy reading Chrestomanci tales these days to use Ima much, I shall enlist some support.
A key to different worlds, five elephants in marching orders, a lemming drill sargent, the Sahara, fifty-seven pickled onions, sixteen venus fly traps, a musical milk float, seven bicycling bisons and a cat named Clarence.
That feels less than usual, must be for drabble reasons. I may have to come back for round two.
Good luck ^_^
((Oh, and wow! Thirteen years! I'm only four...))
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Date: 2006-10-06 05:57 pm (UTC)...WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY LEMMINGS?!?!?!?!?
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Date: 2006-10-06 08:39 pm (UTC)The sand swirled around Emli’s feet as she breathed in, focussing on the sensation of the world gate forming.
Ding-dang-ding-de-dang
She turned to see a milk float driving across the desert towards her.
“Tomalis!
The milk float vanished, only to be replaced with a string of elephants in military uniforms, marching after a lemming drill sergeant. They were flanked by seven bison on motorbikes, all wearing police uniform.
“I am never showing you another Disney movie!”
“How cruel,” a posh voice said by her ankle. Emli looked down, sighing, at the ginger cat.
“Tomalis!.”
“My name is Clarence,” said the cat, sniffing. “I say, is that a ring of pickled onions floating in the sky?”
Emli turned back to the place where she had hoped to open her gate. Sure enough…
That was enough. She threw her arms out, not caring how melodramatic the gesture looked. A ring of fleshy plants erupted out of the sand before her. Another flick of her wrist sent My-Name-Is-Clarence flying through the air to land, screeching, in the middle of the circle of venus fly-traps.
“You can bloody well stay there until I’m done!”
Light preserve her from insane Void Children, allies or not.
(Oooh, Chrestomanci - I love those books)
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Date: 2006-10-06 05:58 pm (UTC)*quivers*
I think I'm *ummm* up to about ... shit ... four, maybe even five. But the first two years (at least) don't count and I'm sporadic and lazy about writing ... so probably none of those years even count...
Challenge:: serenity.
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Date: 2006-10-06 09:24 pm (UTC)He breathed in the harsh blast of air, closing his eyes, and sank into the shaman trance.
The wind held him, and he leant into it, trusting his balance and the flex of his wings to hold him steady.
He was a sword, relentlessly honed by wind and war. All he was could be narrowed to one strike, in eternal defiance of the vileness of the Dark.
Congrats
Date: 2006-10-08 03:21 pm (UTC)As for a prompt- Ok I'm not a fantasy writer but how's this for starters- a porcelain pin, a greenleafed telegraph pole and the pernickety nature of string theory.
Re: Congrats
Date: 2006-10-15 10:55 am (UTC)Emli wasn't sure where the pole had come from, but it didn't seem inclined to move. She peered at its viney tangle of leaves, puzzled. It looked familiar.
“Let the pole go, blondie,” Toby said.
“String theory!” she exclaimed, delighted.
He blinked. “Where?”
She flapped her hand at him, clinging to the pole for balance. “S'all tangled up. Pernickety. Ain't like that, y'know, if you actually look at universes from the outside. S'like, making pins out of china. Looks great – don't work.”
“And you wonder why people don't come to Physicists' parties,” he muttered and detached her from the pole.