Tag: peter and june (Page 2 of 4)

“A sleigh ride?” June said dubiously, looking at Peter’s eager face before gazing across the street. A line of brightly painted carriages stood gleaming merrily beneath blatantly ignored No Parking signs, bells jingling with each stomped hoof. Snowflakes dusted the road, straight out of a painting of Christmastime in New England.

Except…

June pointed to the first sleigh, a bright cherry red with golden bells and a patiently silent driver. “That’s a moose, Peter. A wild animal typically not trained to harness. I haven’t lived here very long, but even I know moose are nothing to mess with.”

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Peter grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the sleigh. “We’ll outpace everyone else and have the forest all to ourselves.”

” A moose,” she mumbled, but found herself hoisted into the sledge and covered in blankets before she could protest further. “We’ll have the forest to ourselves, all right. We might not survive, but – “

She cut off with a gasp as the moose turned and gave her an unmistakable wink, followed by a cheerful snort.

“You were saying?” Peter asked, rustling blankets as he settled onto the cushioned plank beside her.

***

I wasn’t sure what to do with nother Mike’s prompt this week about no parking the sleighs, so I went ridiculous – seriously, leave those moose alone!

My prompt about celebrity chefs went to AC Young. Check it out here, and don’t forget to head over to More Odds Than Ends for the rest!

Peter walked past the room his wife had turned into a home office and backtracked. Movement had caught his eye. “June?”

A blonde head poked up from what could only be described as a nest covering the floor. Books were no longer on the shelves but instead surrounded her in varied stacks, with old mugs — some exuding the distinct odor of stale coffee — balanced precariously atop several. Three pens were wedged through her braid, and a smudge of green ink was smeared across her left cheek.

“June,” he started carefully. “How long have you been sitting on the floor?”

A flannel-clad arm swung wildly and scattered several pens as her hand smacked an open notebook. “Somewhere, it all went wrong,” she said gloomily. “Somewhere, I made a wrong turn and ended up heading in a completely wrong direction.”

“Why don’t you take a break? A new perspective oft’n helps.” The lilt came stronger into his voice as he studied the shadows under her eyes. “Why don’t we head to the diner and grab some food?”

“Sure, sure,” she muttered, and cast her gaze around as if looking for sufficient room to leverage herself physically upward. “I just don’t understand why all of these sources point to a cavern under the university. It’s built upon solid granite.”

***

Prompt trade with Leigh Kimmel this week! I received a turn in the wrong direction, and can’t wait to see what she does with the discount napalm. Want more? Check out MOTE!

“Two weeks?” June sputtered. The paper fell from her hand and landed across the envelope, its folds waving gently in the faint morning breeze. “Two weeks to pack, move across the country to New Hampshire, find a place to live, and prep to teach how many classes?”

“Congratulations on the job offer.” Maria beamed serenely from across the kitchen, a perfect match for the Arizona sunlight shining through the open window. “You’ll be just fine. It’s no more work than getting a PhD, I’m sure. I’ve faith in your ability.”

“Besides, you’ve been planning to be a professor this since you were — what, eight?” John looked up from across the table, bread knife in hand. Homemade wheat straight from the oven wafted a plume of steam between them, as it had every day since she’d come to live with them…no matter how many times his wife playfully chased him away from the fresh loaf.

June studied the letter as if the plain language held information in a secret cipher. “It’s a ridiculously short turnaround.”

“Ah, but failure is unacceptable.” John shoved a plate with a piece of warm bread across the scarred wooden table and gestured toward the butter. “I remember your father always saying that.”

“I don’t remember applying for Paladin University,” she said slowly. “My parents met there. I might’ve applied downright everywhere, but so far away and with that memory — I’d have remembered that application. Wouldn’t I?”

Maria looked up from the eggs she was whisking in a red-and-blue patterned stoneware bowl. “Perhaps they take care of their own. What’s that fancy term for it? Legacies? There’s a lot of that in the more formal magic societies, no?”

“You don’t see many job offers sent by snail mail these days, either,” John said gruffly. “Better give ’em a call and make sure it’s legit.” He shoved his chair back and planted his hat on his long braid with one easy hand. “But if it’s magic, it’s the good kind. About time it landed well on someone who deserves it.”

June carefully didn’t notice the telltale gleam in his eyes, but the approving pat on her shoulder as he headed to check on the cattle told her everything she needed to know.

***

A morph on this week’s More Odds Than Ends prompt from Leigh Kimmel: The expected turnover time was ridiculously short — but failure was unacceptable.

My prompt went to Parrish Baker: “I’ve been watching the rearview mirror, and they’re definitely following us.”

PS: Wondering what happened last week? Technical difficulties! It’s posted as a comment here.

“Tea, dear?” Helen held out a heavy, festive mug dotted with red and green stars and dropped a mischievous wink. “My special Christmas recipe.”

Peter loomed behind June and snagged the mug with his one hand, looping a long arm over her shoulders. “Oh, you can’t miss this. Ma makes the best Christmas tea.” He held it to his face and inhaled the steam wafting into the room. “Mmm. I’ve already had two today. It’s tradition when we decorate.”

“I can tell you already had several,” Helen admonished her son. “You just stole June’s!”

Green eyes went wide atop the thick clay. “Srrrrry!” His gulp swallowed half the mug’s content. “Sorry, my dear, I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’d love to try some,” June said, laughing, and tried to snatch her prize out of his hands.

He lofted it above her head and headed to the kitchen, waving his hands in the air with a faintly ominous sloshing. “No, no, must get you fresh.”

“Or, you could try this one.” Helen handed her another clay mug, this one blue with a pattern of yellow stars. “I haven’t sipped from this one yet, dear.”

“I take it this is, mmm, special tea?” June laughed and gave it a quick sniff. “Oh!”

“Well, a wee drop of the Irish does keep the peace, now. A good whiskey never goes awry at Christmas, does it?”

From the kitchen, Peter began singing. “We wish you a Merry Advent, We wish you a Merry Advent, We wish you a Merry Advent and a Happy Christmaaaaaas!”

George joined in on the extended note and draped an unusual silver boa over his wife’s shoulders, waving an artificial pine branch as he conducted along with the words. “Good tinsel we bring for you and your treeeeee.”

“These are not the words!” scolded Helen. She let out a sigh. “We wish you a Merry Advent and a Happy Christmas!”

***

This week’s more odds than ends musical prompt was inspired by AC Young, while mine went to Padre. A merry Christmas and happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate, and here’s to a 2025 filled with song and story!

“…and there he stood, for hours on the side of the road.” Peter threw his arms out in amazement, shaking his head until his glasses wobbled. “Hours! Bundled up like the nerdiest snowman you’ve ever seen. Utterly convinced that his bright-pink genetically modified pines would be a huge success as Christmas trees.”

“I don’t think I want to head to the science facilities anytime soon,” June commented. “RUMINT says the new genetics professor is, er, even more eccentric than the rest of us.”

“I’ve heard the same. And she’s got some dual specialty in bio-computing.”

“Whatever that is,” she said drily. “Campus suddenly feels a cyberpunk novel.”

“An entrepreneurial one.” He dropped a wink. “Might even work.”

“Speaking of, I need to grade papers.”

The next twenty minutes passed in companionable silence but for the sound of clicking keyboards keys. A hollow pop as a corn worked free, the splashing and the clink of glass as peaty notes of scotch wafted through the living room turned office.

“Fine. Fine.” June fiddled with a pen before stabbing it through her messy bun. “Barbie pink? Pale pink? Magenta? All different shades? How’d he do it, anyway?”

“Love, there are men who know what magenta means, but I’m not one of them.” He sipped the scotch and gave a satisfied grunt. “Kind of reminded me of raspberries. Including the scent, actually. Which might answer your question.”

She couldn’t decide if he was merely teasing and tapped her lip before she could bite it. “No, no, that definitely raises more questions…”

***

I’m not sure where this is going yet, but had fun with this week’s prompt from AC Young. Mine went to Parrish – check it out over at MOTE!

“Just when you think you’re done, you realize there are still five more things to do,” June muttered, and tossed her pen into the air.

“Oh, that doesn’t stop,” a faintly southern accent replied. “Sam. Appalachian folklore, mostly.”

She leaned back and tried lean back in the tiny office, bumping into the bookcase. “June. I talk to myself, obviously. But since you’re here, tips are very welcome.”

He grinned and ran a hand over his white-blond Mohawk. “Go with the flow, mostly, especially for your first term.”

“Does it get better?”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head emphatically. “I’m about to fail half my class for using AI. If you time it right, tomorrow you’ll see a whole lot of sad puppies trailing through the hallway.”

“All to tell you how it’s not their fault.”

He shrugged, and adjusted the pink pocket square tucked into his vest. “You get used to it, sort of, but it helps to focus on the ones who’re actually here to learn.”

June snagged a precariously perched coffee mug and winced at how cold it had become. “Sam, it’s good to meet you.”

***

Prompt trade this week with Leigh Kimmel – check it out over at MOTE!

June skidded to a stop and backed up rapidly, but it was too late. She’d already looked at the classroom ceiling out of instinct.

Or what used to be the ceiling. Water dripped from pipes twelve feet above the ground, half hidden by a dark nimbostratus cloud.

Hair stuck damply to her forehead as she studied the plaster shards scattered across the linoleum.

“Turn the water off,” June croaked, but she didn’t know who might hear, twenty minutes before class on a Saturday morning.

“Weather problems?”

A spike of adrenaline shattered what was left of her poise. “Ah. Um, levitation and situational awareness problems, apparently.”

A dark-haired man in a blue jumpsuit stood at the end of the hallway.

June felt sparks building in her hand and quickly tucked it behind her back. “Are you with maintenance? I’m new this term, but I can’t teach in a…rainstorm.”

It slowly sank in that the indoor flood had nothing to do with a broken pipe.

“That’s nothing,” said the man cheerfully, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “It’s snowing in 103, two doors down.”

***

This week’s prompt is from Padre – turn off the water! My prompt went to AC Young – glue and target practice. Check more out at MOTE!

“It’s broken,” June said. “I know you wanted to use it as a babysitter, but I just can’t trust an AI that’s…”

He looked up when she trailed off. “What?”

“Crazy,” she admitted, and slumped against his desk, pressing one hand against his shoulder.

He wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing it. “Tell me what it did.”

“It’s backwards.” She stared out the office window into the backyard. Amongst the greenery were burnt patches, a remnant of Peanut’s maturing control as he’d tumbled with Medina since they’d moved in last month. “Today it told our daughter, ‘Don’t play with your food unless you’ve finished eating your toys.'”

He laughed. “Can you blame an AI for trying? Toys are definitely better than food.”

“Better than French fries?” She raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “I’m pretty sure nothing beats French fries when you’re six.”

“Except toys,” Peter pointed out. He ran the fingers of his right hand lightly over his keyboard. “I did want our digital nanny to be appropriate for our daughter.”

“And her pet dragonette,” June said drily. “Let’s try adding a responsibility module, shall we?”

***

This week, Padre challenged me with a backwards prompt about food and toys, and I must admit that it was indeed a challenge.

My prompt went to nother Mike, to deal with the realization of wishes.

What will you do in 2024? If you’re feeling the urge for new creative endeavors, why don’t you consider joining the More Odds Than Ends bunch? I promise, we don’t bite…unless you prompt us with a vampire.