Tag: more odds than ends (Page 1 of 22)

Boooonnnnng. The electronic alert reverberated through the townhouse.

“Third time in ten minutes.” June kept typing, buried in her nest of scattered papers and books.

Peter gestured toward the door, phone in hand. “There’s still no one at the door. But it’s not an electrical glitch.”

“It’s not?”

He grinned as the news made her emerge from her cocoon, especially as he watched her streak ink across one cheek with a careless stretch. “It’s not. I smoothed over the power flows first thing.”

“Do we need to disconnect it?” She let out a yawn and widened her eyes afterward. “Sorry. Didn’t expect that. But neither of us wants Medina turning into a nightmare because the doorbell keeps ringing all night.”

“No, no.” Peter’s emerald eyes glittered in the soft yellow light of their living room. “It’s not a someone, exactly, but I found the reason the bell keeps on ringing.”

She stretched and padded over toward his armchair, scanning the video he held out for her perusal. “That’s…that’s not a horse.”

“No,” he replied. “Did you let Medina use your phone recently?”

“To order your birthday present,” she said automatically, then pressed both hands to her face. Ink smeared again, giving her a slightly feral look. “And she insisted you not only wanted, but would indeed greatly appreciate a unicorn.”

“As you can see,” he pointed. “One unicorn, delivered as requested, and brought to life by our suddenly quite magical and supposedly playing quietly upstairs daughter.”

“Who’s now created one very confused unicorn, that we need to return to sender before it eats all the tulips.” June let out a rude noise and headed for their front door. “Go tell her thank you and distract her somehow. I’ve got this.”

She rested her head briefly against the stained glass panels, fingers grasping the doorknob but suddenly reluctant to turn. “I think.”

***

I forgot to send in a prompt last week, so I snagged a spare for a quick prompt short tale – “Amazon sent him a unicorn…”

Check out more, over at MOTE! And you, too, can join the weekly prompting fun!

June refilled her glass and leaned against the counter. “Remember Katie?”

Peter hesitated, fork and plate hovering over the trash bin. “Mum’s sister Kat, Katie the archaeologist, or Kate the children’s librarian who lives one street over?”

“Katie the archaeologist.” She took a sip and raised her eyebrows. “Stop turning funny colors. There’s no curse problem this time. Well. Yet.”

“Last time,” he started, and cleared his throat, his Irish coming through the rasp. He pointed the fork for emphasis. “Lass, the first and only time I met your friend Katie, we dealt with the newly arisen dead.”

“And this time that won’t happen.” June set down her glass with forced cheer. “I’m sure her stint as a visiting professor will be uneventful.”

He planted his feet and dropped dish and cutlery on the counter, then turned to leave the townhouse’s sunny yellow kitchen. “I’m sure.”

“Where are you going?”

“June, darling.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I’m going to pack for us both.”

“Peter. She’s not that bad.”

“June, darling.” He whirled and snugged her into his arms, his accent dripping thicker with each word. “The woman finds what she dreams, and she’s no control over her dreamin’ despite all ye did for her.”

“They’ve made advancements in lucid dreaming, I’m sure.” Her words were muffled against his sweater.

“June, darling.” He stroked her hair, tugging her braid apart with strong fingers. “We’re leaving the bloody country.”

***

This week’s prompt was from Parrish Baker: Whatever the archaeologist dreamed of, he found. (But I swapped it to fit with a previous story, although I can’t recall offhand if I’ve written that one here or not, or whether Katie’s name is actually Katie…sorry, it’s a quick one this evening!)

And it was a trade this week! Check out what Parrish did with a sliver of forgotten history, over at MOTE – and don’t forget, you can play along as well!

Gemma skidded to a stop on the wooden hallway floor, though she managed to land a hand on the doorframe before she full-body slid into it. “I take it the last tenants left some things behind in your room, too?”

Tanya nodded. At least, Gemma thought she nodded. All she saw was a black shroud, bobbing in a nod-like fashion, silhouetted by the bright light streaming through uncurtained windows.

“It’s cool,” Tanya said, and the shroud moved again as she emerged from underneath what appeared to be black lace. Sunlight shone through now that her dark hair and clothing no longer blocked the view. “Lots of stuff in the closet that’s my size. And better yet, my style. Which is lucky. I can’t afford to be picky after putting down the deposit for this place.”

“Funny,” Gemma said. “I found a number of books that were mostly my taste, too. Even a few that’ll help my dissertation. But I started a pile in the living room for a few things I didn’t want.”

“I definitely want this.” Smug satisfaction lay thick in her voice. “Can you imagine if turn this into curtains? It’ll be like a rain of spiders.”

She sagged against the door and tugged her messy ponytail into a semblance of order after the long day moving in. “You’ll use it as a litmus test. See if they get nervous.”

“Seems logical. If they can’t handle a goth math nerd, they don’t deserve me.” Shrugging, Tanya tossed the black lace fabric toward the mattress precariously balanced against the wall. It wafted gently toward the floor and landed on the haphazard metal bedframe pieces that still needed to be put together.

She snorted, not bothering to pick it up. “I need a break, and my grandma sent a gift card for pizza to celebrate our new place, bless her. You want the usual?”

“Yeah. That’s one box I’ll be happy to see.” Trekking up three flights of stairs with innumerous cardboard boxes hadn’t been how Gemma had particularly wanted to start her long weekend, but . “And we still have a bottle of red. It got tucked in with my pillow somehow.”

“Ugh. Do you know which box has the corkscrew?” Tanya hit submit on their order and followed Gemma down the hall and nearly smacked into her as the other woman planted her stocking feet and facepalmed.

“Of course not. Why would we label anything?” She shook her head, annoyed with herself – as well as her drama llama hallway moves – and started for the kitchen. “Our own fault if we’re stuck with lukewarm bottled water.”

“I’m sure we need to rehydrate,” Tanya said primly, and slipped around her like a dark cloud of cargo pockets and spiked jewelry. She started banging cupboards and drawers. “It’s healthy. And look! Just what we need.”

“But…”

“It’s like they knew exactly what we needed and somehow left it all behind.”

“Yeah, but…”

A buzzing interrupted what she’d been about to say. Tanya pointed her fingers at Gemma and raced out their door, striped socks thumping on the stairs.

“Pizza!” the woman sang a few minutes later. “Hey, you didn’t open the wine.”

“I’m not sure we should, either.” Gemma held her hand over the pizza box’s opening. “Or eat this. Or live here.”

An eloquent eyebrow lifted. “This is a folklore thing?”

“You don’t think it’s too convenient? Everything we need or want, given to us? The bottle of wine that just happened to be in a box where it shouldn’t have been? Seriously, have you never heard stories about the fae?”

“You’re telling me that this place is our perfect apartment not just because it’s affordable, has a giant bathroom with a tub, and the landlady is a sweet little old lady, but because it’s magic?”

“Actually, I’m questioning whether it’s real,” Gemma muttered, still staring at the corkscrew. “And whether we’ll be allowed to leave.”

***

This week’s prompt was courtesy of nother Mike, about those crawly critters that I had to turn into something far less creepy. 🙂

Mine went to Becky – check out what she did with a cyborg cowboy, and more, over at MOTE!

“I’m not quite sure I understand why we’re at the grocery,” Peter told June with sparkling green eyes. “We haven’t known each other long, but it’s rather evident you don’t cook.”

“I still have to eat,” she replied primly. “Besides, I’m sure I can pack a picnic for both of us.”

“One that’ll survive the hike?” he teased, and rolled the avocado down the conveyer.

It rolled back.

He glanced down in surprise to find the groceries dancing. The conveyer belt jerked back and forth in short bursts before making a strained noise and continuing forward before hitting the barrier.

“Hmm.” He eyed the payment system keypad.

“Poor cashier looks ready to scream,” June murmured. “I bet she’s been dealing with this all day. Impatient shoppers waiting and hassling her all day.”

“Well, it explains why the queue was so short on this line. Everyone left.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

She leaned against him, watching the customer in front of them grow steadily more annoyed.

“He probably didn’t leave because he had so much.” It was stating the obvious, but despite the delay, there didn’t seem to be much point in leaving now that they’d unloaded the cart.

Beep. Beep. Phbbbbt. Beep.

She straightened, nearly whacking the top of her skull on his chin. “Did that can of beans just make the machine noise change?”

“Maybe we misheard.” His voice was dubious.

The cash register’s drawer popped open. The cashier sighed and popped it closed with a practiced hip. And again. And again.

In front of the couple, the man waved a container of eggs. “I swear to you, they were all fine, and now?” Frantic cheeping and yellow fluff floated from the cardboard openings of the egg carton. “What is this? I want to see a manager.”

The cashier sighed again, looking exhausted. “Sir, if you could stand over there while the manager is on his way, please?”

“Your bags are broken,” he informed her, but stepped aside to let June and Peter approach.

“Avocado’s escaping.” Her nametag read LILY, and the green object was just out of her reach and bouncing uselessly in the corner of the conveyor. “Hold it up for me instead, please?”

Lily pulled out the mobile scanner and aimed it at June’s hands.

Pew pew!

Avocado splattered with a pop.

“Let me squeeze by,” Peter whispered. He put his hand on the payment keypad. “Has this been happening all day?”

“I don’t even know how that happened.” Lily was nearly in tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not to worry,” June managed, wiping fatty fruit from her face and shirt.

Peter swiped his card and eyed the pile of bags that appeared to have holes in the bottom. He balanced the deli meat and bread in his hands instead. “I hope your day gets better, miss.”

They’d just cleared the store when her patience ran out. “Well?”

“Electronic systems are like cranky toddlers,” he replied. “Sometimes they need a nap. This one needed a stern lecture.”

She snickered and flicked her braid over one shoulder, then climbed in the truck and took the picnic supplies from him carefully. “Our life is gloriously weird.”

***

This week’s prompt was from Ben Berwick, about an imminent scream – while I sent green-eyed jealousy over to Becky. Check it – and more! – out over at MOTE, and don’t forget that you can play along as well!

“A horror competition?” Jenna asked as they entered the convention center. Her voice rose to break through the din of a thousand conversations and echoey speakers.

Sallie nodded, trying not to smirk at the righteous matron appalled by Jenna’s western Pennsylvania vowels that turned the word into one syllable. It did twist the term into something less appropriate for the appalled woman’s younglings to hear, but that was the risk one took in public. It wasn’t as if Jenna had meant to introduce the redheaded family to risqué ladies of the night, after all.

Nor did Sallie want to meet her friend’s legendary temper. Especially not when Jenna was notoriously touchy about her accent. No, she’d keep her mouth clamped firmly shut.

Well, about that, anyway. She hurried to explain. “Sure, the whole con’s movie themed. The horror display’s in the back. And the part I really want to see is dessert!”

“Eat it,” Jenna corrected primly. “You mean eat dessert.”

Sallie grinned. “That, too.”

Twenty minutes later, she bounced with anticipation in the display’s seating area. “This is gonna be so cool!”

Two minutes hadn’t passed when she flattened into disappointment. “How mundane.”

She went to eat the cherry from her sundae, and realized, in horror, it was in fact a human eye. Sallie stabbed it with her spoon and waved it at Jenna. “Yeah!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” the brunette said faintly, and pushed her black lagoon cheesecake away unfinished.

“Relax,” Sallie said unconcernedly. “It’s – mmmph – yeah, just a cakeball.” She swallowed. “Delicious.”

***

You have to stop taking the prompts so literally, said Dear Spouse, and he was right! Thanks to Ben for the delightfully spooky human eye prompt; mine went to Becky this week along with privacy-minded sea serpents. Check out more and join the fun, over at MOTE!

A brief response tonight.

Leigh prompted me with: “Someone had switched the plumbing on the hot and cold faucets.” I tried a haiku, although I’m sure I didn’t do it justice.

***

Soothing bath was nothing of the sort

Frigid tub water dancing 

Counterfeit plumbing, temperature swap!

***

My prompt went to Becky – “It was unexpected protection from the boogeyman.” – check it out, over at MOTE! And don’t forget, you can play along, too!