Writer of Fantasy. Wielder of Red Pens.

Tag: more odds than ends (Page 6 of 20)

Robots Make Art, Inc

The icon for the new AI art bot was an anthropomorphic raccoon with an artist’s palette and a big grin. Art – as he was of course named – cheerfully painted alongside the AI’s user, no matter the subject.

The bot’s misplaced empathy had gone viral after Art cheerfully painted a Victorian funeral, a woman sobbing, and a gloomy Scottish ruin – all on social media fame.

The AI owners took full advantage of the viral publicity and built a cheerful robot that went on tour as it “painted” using the AI.

The trick kept the momentum rolling until the hottest day of the year…

“I quit!” spat the tiny man as he fell out of a hidden compartment inside the purported robot. He lay on the ground, stunned and panting, and then ran for the woods.

The AI owner smoothed his mustache as the crowd pulled closer. “Ah, folks – eep!”

***

This week’s belated prompt was a trade with Leigh Kimmel. Check out the fun and join in over at More Odds Than Ends – next week’s inspiration is already posted!

Unexpected Visitors

“Medina!” June tightened her eyes in frustration and wished her mother were still alive to answer life’s unanswerable questions about raising stubborn children. She opened her eyes to find her hands on her hips, a pose she remembered her mother holding in faded, damaged photographs.

“Peanut’s on the loose again, Mommy.” Medina batted big eyes at her mother. “I scared him with the magics.”

She felt her eyes sliding shut again in self-defense and stopped herself before the indulgence gave way to defeat. “You know, not three weeks ago, I was wishing you’d show signs of magical ability.”

“An’ I did!” she said proudly.

June bent and picked up her daughter, letting out a slight oof as she settled her in on her hip. It’s been a lot of change, kiddo. Are you sure you’re not tired?”

Medina shook her head, pigtails flying, and otherwise silent.

“And the magic you did that scared Peanut?”

Medina stayed quiet and bit her lip as they maneuvered around plastic bricks and scattered books.

I have got to watch how much I do that. It’s a bad habit she doesn’t need to pick up. “Hmmmmmmmm?” She drew out the ending. “Did something break?”

“Go boom,” Medina whispered.

“You know Peanut’s got big ears. Loud noises will bother her until she grows into them.”

June opened the front door to find a small, shell-pink dragon huddled at the end of the driveway, watching intermittent foot traffic. She let out a low whistle.

Peanut’s ears flipped backward in relief as she raced for the townhouse. “Milady, you may have to talk to the neighbors again. Apparently I lack the demeanor for a convincing golden retriever.”

She let her suddenly kicking daughter down and the pair raced off. June rubbed her face with one hand and pulled her phone from her back pocket with the other. “I’d better tell Peter we need to step up the house hunt.”

***

This week’s prompt was inspired by Becky Jones and a dragon. My colorful prompt went to Leigh Kimmel. Check it, and more, out at MOTE!

Pattern Weaving

“Are those…” Mikhail trailed off and squinted, trying to get a better view. He grabbed the edge of the rowboat as if his bobbing viewpoint would stabilize.

Long peels of paint stabbed into his hand, which he ignored in favor of squinching his eyes still tighter. The moonlight, bright as it was, wasn’t enough to see clearly in a fleet of dilapidated boats that were certainly not seaworthy, even if they passed muster in a large pond. “Narwhals? In a freshwater pond?”

“Well, don’t underestimate the campus pond,” Liza pointed out. “Or Oren will dump another wave on you. I think the point of this class is to discover what’s in the lake, don’t you?”

“Seasickness,” he muttered, as the boat caught the eddy of another set of oars. “It contains seasickness.”

Professor Kasia Edyth laughed from the next boat over. “Your first answer was closer, Mikhail.” The science professor shoved her ever-present sunglasses firmly atop her nose, though the gorgon’s snakes were coiled tightly to her head in the cool evening air. “They’re not narwhals, but they’re close.”

A white body rose in front of his boat, just as Liza gave an enormous heave of the oars. The creature let out a strange, burbling screech before diving out of the rowboat’s way.

Professor Edyth held up a hand, and the boats more or less drifted to an untidy stop. “Close enough. Now, we wait.”

“For what?” Liza whispered.

Too loudly, although the professor ignored it but for a faint smile.

In the middle of the pond, underneath the moonlight, came rippling flashes of white and silver in the water, led by the horns that Mikhail had mistaken for narwhals.

The flashes formed patterns, one after another, gaining in intensity and speed as more of the shining creatures joined into the dance. Intricate lacework formed, a mosaic of leaping horns and bodies.

It dazzled his eyes, all too brief that the unicorns’ watery dance was, and it took a few seconds for him to realize it had ended. Mikhail gasped once the realization struck him, longing for more.

In front of him, Liza surreptitiously wiped a tear.

“Synchronized swimming,” Professor Edyth murmured into the disappointed crowd. “Everyone hates to see it end. Your reactions are normal.”

Mikhail was the first to manage vocalization. “I…I’m just glad I saw it.”

The gorgon grinned, and propped her oars against her knees. “That’s the right attitude.” She raised her voice. “Once a quarter, coinciding with the solstices and equinoxes, the unicorns dance. We don’t know why, as no one known to our recorded magical history has ever received an answer to any attempted communications.”

The lecture continued, but Mikhail’s attention was caught by the glimmer of a single horn, briefly piercing the water, and dark, watchful eyes.

***

AC Young prompted me this week with unicorns swimming under the light of the full moon. My prompt of mixed emotions went to nother Mike. Check more out and play along, over at MOTE!

Field Trip

Mikhail stood so still his muscles ached with the effort of breathing slowly and unnoticeably, nose to horn with a rhino.

“Just move already,” Liza said with dismissive boredom. “He won’t do anything. We’re kids.”

“Won’t I?” rumbled the rhinoceros. “This adolescent male challenged me. He deserves a lesson!”

“Percival,” interjected their guide. She used a wheedling tone that somehow fit perfectly with the enormous straw hat that covered a head of curly hair and no obvious face. “Mikhail is a very promising magical zoology student. Wouldn’t you rather want him to help you with that finding a mate problem?”

Percival snorted, his horn reddening. “Lucky I don’t charge him. Boot him right out of this apartment complex, I would.”

The blast of hot air hit Mikhail in the face, but at least the staring contest had broken. “I didn’t mean to be challenging, sir,” he tried, studying the rhino with peripheral vision. “I’ve never been to a—a place like this before.”

He’d nearly said the forbidden words and called the facility a magical zoo.

“Quite the place,” rumbled Percival.

“Obviously, Percival here isn’t your normal rhino,” Hat Lady — her real name subsumed by layers of woven straw and lost to memory — said. “He’s a wallywompus.”

“Ah,” Mikhail managed, swallowing with difficulty. No wonder Percival hadn’t liked a direct stare.

“Which you’d have known if you’d remembered to do the spell on the sign to reveal the real information on the creatures who have kindly , and then I’d not have to have rescued you.”

The tart words stung. “Yes, ma’am.”

Liza shrugged, the djinn’s ever-present floating fire extinguishers clanking with the movement. “I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

“I should have known,” Mikhail said with misery, and turned back to Percival. “Have you tried online dating apps? I assume you’re having trouble luring the female wallywompi out of the rainforest.”

“Worse,” Percival said sadly. “They don’t like condo living, most of them. That’s wild ‘wompi women for you. This is the greatest place ever! But maybe it makes me look old rather than stable. Retirement living, like that state that looks like —”

“Um, you mean Florida?” Mikhail interrupted quickly. He felt his face flushing and wondered if the heat was enough to trigger Liza’s fire magic.

A squeal behind him cut off the conversation. “I thought regular families weren’t allowed in today?”

She gave a crisp nod. “Magical families only. They’re good. You see her bear?”

The stuffed creature in question morphed from blue to purple, then flashed iridescent.

“Wouldn’t work for a normie.” She started to yawn, then froze with her mouth and eyes wide open.

“Cool.” Mikhail tried to pretend animals on the loose — in the walkways, out of their pens, condos, whatever pretense of a barrier gave the illusion of safety — at what the mundanes thought of as a zoo was perfectly normal and didn’t make his heart stutter.

The giraffe ambled over to the little girl and bowed. “Good morning, my dear,” he said.

***

This week’s giraffe prompt was inspired by Becky Jones, while mine went to nother Mike. Find more at MOTE!

Midterms

Mikhail stared at the door, hanging loose on its hinges and splattered with streaks of neon orange and pink. “A funhouse?”

“Midterms,” Professor Bleekley bellowed cheerfully. “Makes it more interesting, doesn’t it?”

Behind him, Liza clamped her hands over her ears and shook her head. Lefty and George, the fire extinguishers that floated above the djinn’s shoulders slid from side to side in definite agreement.

“You’ll be working in teams,” Professor Akira said gently, her tail bobbing in what Mikhail had learned was a conciliatory manner. “And against another team. Practical applications make a more efficient metric for judging how much you’ve learned so far.”

“Improvements!” Professor Bleekley yelled with obvious glee, his slippers and astronomy robes swirling with the storms of Jupiter. “Continual improvements! It’s the Wizurg Magical Academy way!”

“My clan calls the concept kaizen,” Professor Akira said with a smile. “It lets us tailor next semester. Don’t worry—we keep a close eye on how you’re doing.”

“All you have to do is get through the maze,” Bleekley shouted. “That’s all, boyo, get on with it now, there’s a good lad.”

Liza bounced, her fire extinguishers mimicking the movement. “Let’s go! This is the last exam.”

Mikhail’s movements were positively sluggish as he followed Liza through the brightly colored door. A blinding light stunned his vision, and he was alone after blinking spots away.

Alone, that was, as long as he didn’t count the endless reflections of funhouse mirrors. He tried to avoid meeting his twins’ eyes, digging instead into his bag.

“A maze,” he muttered, and pulled his notebook from his ever-present satchel. He’d sacrifice a page away from magical zoology if it meant finding a clear path out of this carnival of nightmares.

He tried to ignore the flashing of silver in the mirror as he was suddenly surrounded by stainless steel pens. If he looked up, he’d have to admit there was no way out of this room of glass and mirrors.

One of the pens caught his eye, and he made the mistake of looking directly into the face of a twisted version of himself.

His reflection tapped the tip of his pen on his nose and winked, then faded from view.

***

A snippet of something I’m working on, inspired by this week’s prompt of stainless steel pens from Cedar Sanderson.

Want more Mikhail and Liza? Check out Fantastic Middle Schools and Fantastic School Hols!

Want more prompts, to see what Leigh Kimmel did with my suggestion, or to play along? Check out more at MOTE!

The Yawning Maw

“Nope,” June said, and inched backward until she ran into Peter’s shoes. “I’m out.”

“Let me take a gander?” He nested his chin over her shoulder and peered down into the circle of gaping darkness. “Ah, well. I can’t imagine why you’d want a hole that leads into the dark abyss hidden in your office, but now you know why they went to so much effort to conceal it behind a secret door.”

“Inside a locked cupboard.”

“And under magic seal,” he finished, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

“Maybe we should have left well enough alone,” she muttered, and leaned down to tug at the heavy wheel, the painted steel still looking almost new. Her efforts were futile, only making her wobble with fatigue as she straightened.

“Maybe if they hadn’t made such a bags of it,” he mused with an absentminded steadying hand. “Though if you didn’t want the answer…”

She blew out a breath, strands of hair tickling her face as they moved. “I know, I know. Don’t ask the question. I’d rather know there’s a gaping, malevolent portal to hell in my office before a demon pops out.”

“Malevolent. Hmm.” He tugged her gently backward with a hand on one hip.

She didn’t need the encouragement. “I was joking.”

“Were you?” He leaned down to close the hatch and spin the mundane wheel shut.

June didn’t answer, just wrapped her arms around her middle with a shiver. “I’m not up for resealing that properly. Too tired and too hungry to concentrate. It’s making me shaky.”

She glanced longingly at the empty coffee cup precariously balanced on the overstuffed bookshelf that concealed the passage to her real office, closet that it was. “And too uncaffeinated.”

“The metal blocks it for now,” Peter said, his Irish lilt soft. “You can feel the difference, can’t you? Whatever’s down there is more at a distance now.”

Her shiver turned into a full-body shudder of dread. “An eternal darkness of roiling anger.” She backed away again, making a gesture of aversion. “Righteous rage. I’ve never felt the like.”

“Worse,” he said slowly. “I suspect…I think it’s lonely.”

***

Find more at MOTE!

Plumeria Poison

“Can’t deny it any longer,” June told Peter without looking up from the paper she was grading. “The evidence is undeniable. Three students have been bitten so far.”

“But -” Peter looked down the hallway behind him and inched into her tiny office. He lowered his voice. “But the threat on this campus has always been magical. Not physical.”

She quirked an eyebrow, the product of her eleven-year-old summer. “Magic brings physical danger. And magical creatures.”

“An unusual amount of critters,” he allowed, and tapped a hand on the doorway in frustration. “Something on campus is attracting the paranormal.”

She shrugged, still typing, and finished her last comment. June shut the laptop lid with a thump. “And something on campus is hungry.”

He winced, though it could have been at her aggressive treatment of technology rather than her words.

“Dr. Porter?” The voice wafted into her office along with the overwhelming scent of plumeria. “I had a question about the paper due next week.”

June’s stomach flipped over as every magical alarm in her office started blaring.

***

This week’s prompt was a trade with Becky Jones. She proposed: The scent of plumerias floated in the air. In return, I challenged her with: “Ah, yes, the awkward silence best found in a large group of technology experts put in uncomfortable positions.”

Check out more over at More Odds Than Ends!

And if you see anything off with the site, please let me know. There’ll likely be some changes and bug fixes coming soon.

Life Seeds

This week continues the Marble Witch story.

Hayes could barely lift his head, and his hands were scorched from a combination of unfamiliar magics and dragon flame that left him no doubt he’d never pick a lock for fun again, let alone for a job.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Kea. His daughter, his second chance, now a withered husk of life and Fae magic spent. A half-melted hand he didn’t recognize reached for her, and he moaned in a pained roar that left his throat raw as he gathered the shell of the girl into his arms.

His hands were so clumsy, he feared he’d shatter what was left of her into the dust and rotted apple blossoms the Marble Witch had used to create his child. Days before felt like ages, and a drop fell onto her shriveled, frozen face.

“That’s it, child.” The wounded dragon in the corner wheezed the words. “She needs your pain.”

“Allies don’t enjoy each other’s misery,” Geo snapped at the woman. “Can’t you see he’s grieving?”

“Get him one of those disks.” Celia coughed, then pointed. “Our alliance doesn’t have to be temporary. He needs training. More than you can give him, frog.”

Geo leapt over the crumpled remains of the witch and pointed a finger at the dragon. “I’m no longer a frog.”

“And yet I just watched you hop. Yes, one of those. Actually—” she eyed the store of disks— “maybe all of them.”

“What are these, potting disks? What’d you do with these?”

“Exactly so.” Celia leaned forward and clutched her ribcage, ignoring Geo’s second question. She wobbled slowly to her feet, panting. “Put them in the tub there. Then the girl. And then it must be watered with all the pain he’s held inside.”

She staggered across the room, leaving smeared bloody handprints on the counter to mark her trail.

“Hayes,” Celia said, tilting his chin up with a forceful hand to peer into his eyes. It broke his stare from the horror of death by physically planting herself in his view. “You’ve heard of Jack and the Beanstalk.”

He clutched Kea’s body more tightly. “Magic beans. Of course.”

“Kea is a type of magic seed right now. If we act fast enough. If you can use your pain and channel it. Your tears must water the potting disks to make the ground grow enough to nourish her back to life.”

“Why should I believe you? Our alliance was one of convenience. I tricked you into hiring me.” He gritted his teeth and jerked his chin away, but couldn’t block her golden eyes. How had this woman ever passed as human?

Celia gestured at the Marble Witch’s body. “A life for a life, Hayes. I owe you the balance. And you owe me service after your deceit. I demand you heal and train. You owe me that.”

“That’s all of them,” Geo said quietly from behind her. “It’s time to decide.”

***

This week’s prompt was inspired by nother Mike (maybe Hayes can be a nickname?): Henry planted the free seeds that came in the mail before he realized they were supernatural seeds…

Mine went to AC Young. Check out what he did with it over at MOTE!

The Storm Cometh

An alarm blared. Jer tightened his grip on the wrench, leaned over the comp chair, and frowned at the hab screen. “Another storm already?”

“We haven’t yet restored all the outages from the last one.” Aster didn’t take her gaze away from the cryoglue oozing in a steady line from soldering iron. “Better hurry. Dust or meteorites this time?”

“Both.” He shut off the alarm with his free hand and began tightening bolts. “Wish they’d spent more time figuring out the met reports before setting up a hab.”

His words were a familiar complaint, as were her reply. “Ten year cycle meant a ten year wait, and then we’d have lost the planet.”

Behind the couple flicked a fluffy tail as Peaches scurried to her littermates, belly low to the ground and ignoring all the safety warnings as she overrode the safety locks in her tunnel. There would be time before the storm to restore the calm path of plastic tubes and bubbles.

She popped mewling into the room with her elder sister and the newly decanted kitten. “Alert! Alert! Storm warning!”

Lord Fluffernut raised his hackles and hissed through a mask of grey and white fur. “We must protect the human crew, little one. This is our calling upon this planet. They cannot see the space bug threat.”

Lightning raised a tiny white-toed paw and licked it, exposing wickedly sharp claws. “I kill space bugs?”

“And cuddle in laps during the storm,” Peaches added, smacking the button that reestablished the plastic tunnel path properly for the miniature morale crew. “I like that part.”

“But mostly,” Lord Fluffernut continued, grandly smoothing his whiskers with a self-conscious paw, “We will chase and kill the space bugs.”

“Protect humans,” Peaches added, nodding gravely. “It’s a critical duty. Are you up for it? You’re newly decanted.”

Lightning puffed out his chest. “Show me the bugs.”

Lord Fluffernut went to the computer and smacked some buttons. “Here. This is a recreation from the storm two weeks past. I chased this space bug during the storm for hours.”

“We chase the red dot,” Peaches agreed. “Lord Fluffernut is our leader because he is tireless in chasing the red dot until the bug vanishes.”

“The humans cannot see it,” Fluffernut said sadly. “They laugh and laugh but have no idea what danger they are in.”

“How kill?” Lightning flexed his claws again.

The room grew quiet.

“Get ready,” Fluffernut instructed stiffly and stalked over to the litterbox area with great dignity. He paused before entering. “Make sure your air bubble collar is working. There is a special storm room.”

“Perhaps you will be the one,” Peaches finally whispered to the kitten. “Perhaps this will be the storm where we figure out how to end the space bug menace.”

***

This week, Leigh Kimmel prompted me with: Another storm? We haven’t restored all the outages from the last one.

I also included last week’s prompt from Becky Jones, because last week was hectic and I failed: The cat ignored all the safety warnings.

My prompt went to Cedar Sanderson: “That’s not a typo.”

Haiku

Allergy season

The hiccups were more annoying but

Sneezes wouldn’t end

***

An extremely brief experiment tonight, so here’s a bonus raccoon. Midjourney thinks that’s a juice box, by the way. He might have also stolen someone’s wallet and a pack of cigarettes by the look of it, but who could blame that adorable face?

More, over at MOTE!

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