#nmv366 — Public Fediverse posts

Star-Cross Cookies: Part 3

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm
#Wss366 recreate/re-create

Armed with Carnelia’s name, Rozemyne headed to the library, much to the dismay of her chief maid, Lieseleta. Rihyarda could have handled it, but Lieseleta lacked the experience and gravitas to control Rozemyne when she was fired up.

"Lady Carnelia!" Rozemyne shouted, bursting into the reading room the girl was using.

Lieseleta said just loud enough for the Aub to hear, “At least give her a proper greeting.”

“Of course,” Rozemyne replied.

“May I pray for a blessing in appreciation of this serendipitous meeting, ordained by the harsh judgment of Ewigeliebe, Lady Carnelia?” Rozemyne rushed through her greeting.

“You may.” The lady in question spoke barely loud enough to be heard and trembled like a winter leaf, which wasn’t surprising, given that the Aub had addressed her so suddenly.

“I need something red, romantic, and heart-shaped,” Rozemyne said.

“You might want to explain a bit,” Lieseleta said. She was overstepping herself, but the poor woman Rozemyne was addressing looked bewildered and on the verge of fainting in fright.

“Sorry, I want something to use with cookies for Star-Cross Day. Something other than those dreadful bugs! I don’t see how anyone could think coach beetles were romantic.”

Lady Carnelia stared, and then, as the word "romantic" sank in, she began to think. Her brows furrowed, and then a smile touched her lips. "There's the 'desert heart.' They have red, heart-shaped leaves and a mild, pleasant flavor. Perhaps you’ve had tea made from them.”

Rozemyne’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, that lovely mint tea. I think we export it. That would be wonderful.”

Lieseleta was used to Rozemyne’s use of strange words, but Lady Carnelia looked puzzled at the word “mint.”

Blissfully unaware, Rozemyne continued. “Mild, red, mint cookies with a heart-shaped leaf in their center. Perfect!”

Carried away, she rushed off to see the chef, leaving poor Lady Carnelia to recover in the now silent library.

[Sequel coming someday]

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm #Valentines

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This One is Just Right

-> #Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Midnight?

Above me towered the bronze statue of Peter the Great, snow clinging to his horse’s back. In the background, the voices of a choir rose, drowning out the sound of machine gunfire.

          I stuck around St. Petersburg
          When I saw it was time for a change
          I killed the Czar and his ministers
          Anastasia screamed in vain

The cacophony was so loud that I almost missed the voice saying, “Папа, папа.” If it hadn’t been for the tone, I would’ve missed it. Claire was calling me.

I tried to turn toward her but realized that I couldn’t move. It was like sleep paralysis, where everything was frozen except my eyes. When I squinted to the side, I looked out over a sparkling white field, like a #park or city plaza. It was a flat expanse cut in half by a glass plane that curved overhead. Through it towered the distorted shape of a can of red bean soup. Beyond that, I could see the inside of the cabin facing the bedroom. Floating above it all was Claire’s distorted, terrified face.

Somewhere, a clock tolled the hour. Claire turned and walked toward the bedroom. The choir fell #silent, and the gunfire faded and vanished. Each booming chime broke the silence, stirring the snow. Large flakes drifted down, dislodged from the statue above.

In the bedroom, three shadows danced in the air like smoke from a plague pyre.

“This noose is too big.”

“No!” I silently screamed, struggling to move.

“This noose is too sloppy.”

Peter the Great grinned down at me, his once solemn face now leering. It was a twisted smile that all but laughed.

The clock struck midnight.

“But this noose is just right.”

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #NMTTA

High Tea at The Royal Academy

•─⋅☾Author Notes☽⋅─•

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#wss366 #Mastoprompt #PIXIVCharitySanta

I wrote this just as the translation of “Hannelore’s Fifth Year” volume two started appearing in J-Novel Club pre-pubs. To the best of my ability, this story doesn’t break the canon of “Ascension of a Bookworm” and volume one of “Hannelore’s Fifth Year.” Volume two will most likely render this AU, though. However, I like the idea of Rozemyne and Hannelore eventually living together. They both need a good friend.

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm

High Tea at The Royal Academy

•─⋅☾6. Tea Cake Crumbs☽⋅─•

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#wss366 #Mastoprompt #PIXIVCharitySanta

•─⋅☾Meanwhile in Dunkelfelger☽⋅─•

“Oh, my,” said Sieglinde, Hannelore’s mother. It would have taken a more observant man than Aub Werdekraf to notice the slight pallor that crept into his wife’s cheeks. But it was there, a sure sign that something highly unusual and alarming had happened. Fortunately, no servants were in the private dining room where the two were having dinner to observe her alarm.

“Is that Hannelore’s letter?” he asked as she handed it to him. He blinked as he read it, glanced up at his wife, and then continued reading.

Putting it down, he said, “How could Ferdinand have let this happen? A magical shumil?”

“Not just any shumil, it's a minor artifact. Only Ferdinand and Rozemyne could have made this one.”

“But what could it mean?” Wedekraf’s voice was muffled by the hands he had placed over his face.

His wife gave it some thought. She was the steadying hand that kept the Dunkelfelger ruling family in line. “Ah, I think I see.—Have you noticed that Rozemyne is inordinately fond of Hannelore?”

“One could hardly miss it. Do you think that’s all it is—an extravagant gift?”

“Do be sensible. Given Ferdinand’s involvement, it must mean something—something that can’t be spoken of directly.”

“But what?”

“What if Rozemyne is in love with Hannalore? If Ferdinand were to take Hana as a second wife, she would have an unassailable place where she could be with Rozemyne.”

The Aub took his hands away from his face, revealing brows scrunched in concentration. “That does sound like the kind of devious plan Ferdinand would come up with, but Rozemyne? I thought she had eyes #solely for Ferdinand.”

His wife was smiling now as she tapped her finger on the table. “It’s the #perfect solution to our Hannelore problem. She gets a good marriage with people who will ensure her comfort, and we strengthen our relationship with Alexandria and Rozemyne.”

•─⋅☾And in Alexandria☽⋅─•

Ferdinand emerged from the laboratory and approached his reading wife. “Do you know where the Shumil tool went? I had some ideas about how to cut down on the mana cost.”

The book slowly lowered, and Rozemyne looked up at him. “I sent it with Lady Sorrona to give to Hannelore.”

Ferdinand’s eyebrows twitched. “You did what!?”

Rozemyne set aside her book. “Oh dear, am I going to get another lecture?” Her tone was resigned.

[FINIS]

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries

“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.

“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.

I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.

For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.

It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.

Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!

Then silence fell.

“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.

I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.

“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.

I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”

Slowly, her eyes focused.

“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.

She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.

“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”

Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.

“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”

She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.

She repeated, “Just like you.”

The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.

3/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #NMTTA

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries

“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.

“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.

I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.

For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.

It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.

Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!

Then silence fell.

“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.

I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.

“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.

I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”

Slowly, her eyes focused.

“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.

She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.

“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”

Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.

“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”

She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.

She repeated, “Just like you.”

The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.

3/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #NMTTA

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries

“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.

“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.

I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.

For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.

It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.

Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!

Then silence fell.

“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.

I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.

“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.

I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”

Slowly, her eyes focused.

“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.

She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.

“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”

Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.

“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”

She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.

She repeated, “Just like you.”

The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.

3/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #NMTTA

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13

“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.

“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.

I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.

For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.

It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.

Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!

Then silence fell.

“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.

I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.

“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.

I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”

Slowly, her eyes focused.

“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.

She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.

“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”

Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.

“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”

She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.

She repeated, “Just like you.”

The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.

3/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #NMTTA

High Tea at The Royal Academy

•─⋅☾4. Book Buddies Forever☽⋅─•

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#wss366 #Mastoprompt #PIXIVCharitySanta

As was customary, Sorrona took the first swallow of matcha. Then, she passed the cups around.

Everyone took a sip of the emerald-green #liquid. The lady from Klassenberg made a slightly wry face but quickly hid it. What was her name? Hannelore wondered. "Valeriane Tochter Klassenberg. That was it."

"This is lovely china, so unique," Valeriane said. Hanna thought it was perhaps an attempt to cover up her faux pas. "May I buy a set for my tea parties?" Valeriane went on.

“No, I’m sorry,” Sorrona answered. "They won't be available until after the Archduke Conference, but you can have the setting in front of you as a gift. You'll find Aub Rozemyne’s personal seal on the bottom.”

"Now, on to the treats," she said, sampling a sandwich and each confection to demonstrate that they weren't poisoned. "This is matcha milli feuille," she said, cutting into the lavish cake. She stumbled slightly over the name and giggled nervously.

"Everyone calls these tanieh jellies," she said, picking up the deep tan confections. "And these are mochi," she said, eating one of the round confections. "Rozemyne is very proud of the mochi. She said that they were incredibly difficult to develop.”

Finished, she turned to Hannelore. "You might be wondering why Her Grace entrusted me with debuting her creations. I was surprised, too, but when she asked who wanted to join the library committee, I was the only one to volunteer. She said you were my senpai, and that I should listen to you."

Sorrona giggled after making this serious announcement.

Hannelore stared as a feeling of déjà vu washed over her.

When Sorrona held up her little finger, it seemed to Hannelore that the girl wanted to shake pinkies. Flustered and unsure what to do, Hannelore complied, wrapping her pinky around Sorrona’s.

Sorrona giggled again and said, "Book buddies forever."

Such obvious favoritism clearly showed that Alexandria had singled out Dunkelfelger for special favor. Either that or they were signaling a marriage offer was in the making. Perhapes, Ferdinand was looking for a second wife. One wrong move and they would feel snubbed, and she would make an enemy of them.

Hannelore could feel the other women’s eyes burning through her. They would immediately share this intelligence with their duchies. Until she heard back from Dunkelfelger's Aub, her every move would be watched and interpreted. It was a nightmare.

She carefully #folded hands, making sure her smile didn’t waver. It was a far cry from her thoughts."What has my bad timing gotten me into this time?"

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm

#TheMoonsHindMostWound

12. Moon Rise (2/2)

#FanFiction #TheApothecaryDiaries
#wss366 #MastoPrompt

That ended when Mao heard Jinshi say, “Someone is going to have to be punished for letting the assassin die. I suppose the mercenary woman will have to take the blame.”

Mao frowned upon hearing the guard mentioned.

“Steel?” she asked.—“Never make assumptions” was one of the things she had been taught, but she was sure of the answer.

“Yes, the woman Mù’er. She was holding the woman when it happened, and as a foreigner, no one will complain about her death.” As he spoke, Jinshi looked intently at Mao. From the squint in his eyes, Mao assumed he was wondering what she would say.

Mao should have been happy at this announcement, after all, she owed the woman for her early rudeness and for tossing her around like a sack of millet. Mao’s ribs were still tender from the pounding they had taken from the saddle horn. Still…

“It is entirely my fault. I was careless with the poisoned arrow, and Steel lost her grip because I stumbled into her.”

"What am I saying?" Mao thought. Judging by the stares of Basen and Jinshi, they were thinking the same thing. Suiren's glare was almost enough to kill her on the spot, which might be a mercy, considering the alternative.

“Pardon my wandering mind, but didn’t I hear it was one of the family members who stabbed her with the arrow?” Suiren’s statement stunned them all. Mao wondered what her intervention would cost her.

Seconds ticked by until Jinshi replied, "No, you remember correctly. Maomao would never be careless with a poisoned arrow, let alone leave it wedged in place for someone to impale themselves on.” To anyone less familiar with Jinshi, the sarcasm in his statement would have gone undetected. Mao heard the jab but was unbothered. It seemed a small price to pay for her actions.

“I think, as a reward for guarding our clumsy Xiaomao,” the Moon Prince continued, “we should permanently assign Mù’er to guard her. We can’t have Xiaomao carelessly harming herself.”

Mao shuddered.

*** Finis ***

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMFic #NMV366
#ApothecaryDiaries

#TheMoonsHindMostWound

12. Moon Rise (1/2)

#FanFiction #TheApothecaryDiaries
#wss366 #MastoPrompt

Jinshi still looked pale, but thanks to Mao, he could work for short periods again. Not that either Mao or Jinshi’s head maid, Suiren, agreed.

“Maybe I should have used less of the antidote,” Mao grumbled to herself. She was in a particularly #crabby mood due to the nausea resulting from experimenting with the assassin’s poison. The fact that the rice cakes with persimmon #jam didn’t tempt her spoke volumes. Jinshi’s royal robes were too bright to look at. Fortunately, the muted colors of his office were easier on her eyes, and she kept her gaze on the mild yellow embroidered flowers on the curtain hiding Baryou.

She refused the dish of rice crackers that Jinshi pushed toward her. What she wanted to say was, “Go back to bed, you idiot.” That's what she felt the doctors should have said. Given Jinshi’s feelings for her, she would have survived the impertinence. However, with Suiren frowning at them both, she didn’t dare say it.

Instead, Mao eyed the wine, wondering if it would settle her stomach while Basen droned on about the events leading to the capture of the Shaoh assassin and the family sheltering her.

[Continued in next post]

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMFic #NMV366
#ApothecaryDiaries

M is for Milady

#Fanfiction #EstherAndErie by @art_of_goulwenr
#Wss366 #PIXIVCharitySanta

Erie had started limping, and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop herself from touching the collar around her neck. The same went for staring at the tall buildings and the carriages, wagons, and delivery vans on the street. She had never seen so many people. Her mistress, Esther, had gone so far as to indulge her when she couldn’t stop staring at an organ-grinder with a monkey on a leash similar to her own. Esther even gave her a small coin to give to the man.

“Erie dear, are your feet hurting? I can’t do much about the collar, but we can stop and rest if it helps. It won’t do if you’re lame and can’t do your work.”

“Sorry, Milady. I’m not used to walking so much in these #boots.”

“The street is hard, but I see a park ahead where we can sit. I am a trifle fatigued myself. I thought you might enjoy looking at the stores. You’ve never been to a big city like this before, have you?”

“No, Milady. It is all so new to me.--Oh!” An exclamation escaped Erie as something caught her eye in a window.

Esther followed her gaze to a large book with a giraffe, elephant, and lion on the cover. “You can read, can’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, Milady. Lady D’Arcy taught me.”

“Would you like this book? It seems simple, but the art is nice.”

“Oh, no, Milady.” A look of fear came into the servant’s eyes.

“Erie, what is it?”

“Nothing, Milady.”

“No, that won’t do. When I ask you something, you must tell me right away. If I ask about your feelings or thoughts, I want to hear them.”

“Lady D’Arcy made me read the most dreadful things to her and would whip me when I made a mistake.”

“I see. Now I understand. I’ll save the whipping for when you’ve done something truly heinous. Not for stumbling over a word. Come. I’ll buy this book for you, and you can read it to me in the park. You’ll see that I’m nothing like Lady D’Arcy.”

#MicroFictin #TootFic #Victorian #NMFic #NMV366

Mink Ranching

#FanFiction #AdachiAndShimamura
#wss366 #MastoPrompt #PIXIVCharitySanta

"I'm sorry, but I can't go home with you today. I have to study in the library,” Shimamura told Adachi.

"Wow, look at that expression," Shimamura thought.

A smile crept to her lips. "The world is ending tomorrow," she joked.

“What?” Adachi said, looking totally bewildered. “It is?”

"No, It's just how you looked. It's not like I don't want to walk home with you. This is my #last chance to pass math. Can you imagine doing that class again!”

"Oh, then I'll come too.”

"Okay," Shimamura said, shrugging.

While Adachi scanned the books on the shelves, in between glances at her friend, Shimamura found a place to sit. Adachi reached for a book, then glanced at it, and her hand dropped. She reached for another.

Shimamura smiled at her, and Adachi grabbed a book and clutched it tightly to her chest. She hurried to the table and then stopped. “I won’t be bothering you?”

Shimamura looked up from the papers and smiled. "No, but I don’t know what’s so fascinating about my doing math.” She added to herself, “I don’t get it. It’s dull enough when I do it. Why watch me?”

Adachi pulled out her chair carefully being as quiet as possible, sat down, and hastily opened her book.

Shimamura looked up. “Math. I hate it. I just want to sleep. It’s so quiet, and the smell of books it’s almost too much.” She pretended to slap herself, returned to her papers, and soon was soon groaning over the problems.

The seconds ticked by while Adachi held the book in front of her, and Shimamura muttered. "If x is the cube of y and y is the square root of four, what is x? So y is two. Cube?"

"x, y, cube, square? When am I ever going to use this?" She asked, looking up at Adachi, and found her peeking over her book.

Adachi looked down, missing Shimamura hiding a smile behind her hand.

"I didn't know you were interested in minks," Shimamura said.

"What?” Adachi's eyes blinked rapidly. She glanced at her book, still on the title page; read; and froze, a look of horror on her face.

"Your book’s title, #Mink Ranching."

#MicroFiction #TootFic #NMFic #NMV366 #Yuri
#AdachiToShimamura

#TheMoonsHindMostWound

11. Mercy by Moonlight 2/2

#FanFiction #TheApothecaryDiaries
#wss366 #MastoPrompt

She paused, letting the woman think, then resumed, “You don’t have to tell me who your master is, but I must know what the poison contains. Tell me, and the arrow is yours.”

[Conclusion next Week in "Moon Rise]

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMFic #NMV366
#ApothecaryDiaries

High Tea at The Royal Academy

•─⋅☾3. Matcha & Celadon☽⋅─•

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#wss366 #Mastoprompt #PIXIVCharitySanta

Hannalore was shown to a seat next to Sorrona. Each place setting was stunning. Handleless cups and plates with a jade-green glaze gleamed, which pooled in darker lines made by pattern of swimming #fish. What caught her eye most, though, was the fine web of cracks running through the glaze. They were lovely and unlike anything she had seen before.

In the table’s center was a silver three-tiered stand. The bottom contained a cake made of many thin, crepe layers with whipped cream sandwiched between each, and all dusted with green powder. It gave off a faint odor of tea. On the next tier were dainty crustless sandwiches, and on the top tier were tanieh jellies and soft, round confections covered with roasted samaneh seeds.

The mingled sweet scents made her mouth water. To think she would be among the first to taste Rozemyne’s newest creations. It felt like a miraculous honor. For once, just once, her timing had been perfect.

“I thought I would start our tea with a ritual that Rozemyne introduced to our court,” Sorrona said as the last guest was seated. “If you pass me your cups, I’ll make a special tea for you. You may decline, in which case you’ll be served a nice black blend. Either is exquisite, but the former is an adventure.”

As everyone passed their cups to Sorrona, Hannalore overheard the girl from Drewanchel say in a stage whisper, "Well, at least we don't have to worry about her fainting and leaving us hostless." Hannalore felt sorry for Sorrona again.

The target of the girl’s retort gave no sign of having heard and continued. "This is the finest tea, which is then ground into a fine powder. Rozemyne calls it matcha. You warm the cup with a bit of hot water, add this much matcha, add hot water, and whisk it. The temperature of the water is very important. If it is too hot, the tea will be bitter."

Sorrona picked up a small whisk and rolled it between her palms, turning the tea into a thick, emerald froth.

"Rozemyne says that any lady or gentleman should be able to do this for their guests. It is the highest honor. Having servants do it implies that you feel your guests are unworthy of your attention."

Some of the ladies looked shocked, but Hannalore thought, "I bet Ferdinand was the #architect of that custom to accommodate his eccentric wife." But it also seemed like a charming custom.

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm

A Gyaru Explains Christmas ギャルがクリスマスを解説する (3/3)

#FanFiction #ThisGyarusGotAThingforVampireHunters?! #GyaVam
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/5 #PIXIVCharitySanta**

[Continued]

The two gyaru had already spotted them and dashed over. They each picked a girl and started mussing up her hair while shouting, “#Brains, brains, brains!”

Ginka and Ruka both reacted instantly. Ruka said, “Hey, stop! I spent an hour on that!” While Ginka took a battle stance. Then she looked at Ruka and asked, “Are they infected?”

The three gyaru started laughing at Ginka’s serious tone. It was such a Ginka thing to say.

The two girls responded, "Infected? Like, really!" and "Yep. Zombies! got us. We've come to eat your brains."

Ruka explained, “They must have just come from the theater. ‘Zombie Apocalypse’ is playing. It's totally gross! And you two quit it; you're bothering people.”

“So, what are you two doing here?” Meiri asked. “On a date?”

“Must be, or she would have invited us,” Hinaru replied.

“I’m teaching Ginka-chan the meaning of Christmas, if you must know,” Ruka said, avoiding the question. It had made her feel embarrassed yet also kind of warm. If she were going to date a girl, Ginka-chan would be her pick. She was stunning and so cool and…and…yeah, like that.

“The meaning of Christmas? Presents!” Hinaru said.

“KFedC,” Meiru argued.

“No, and no. Just follow me—Ginka-chan, those are both important things, but they aren’t the heart and soul of Christmas.”

Ginka nodded. With the other girls there, she didn’t want to say anything that would embarrass her—or worse, Ruka.

Ruka swiftly led the others through the crowd. She regretfully let go of Ginka’s hand. With her friends around, it would be too embarrassing, and they would only tease her more about "dating" Ginka.

She led them past the bookstore, the grocery store, the mall lottery stand, and even the big Christmas tree. She stopped in front of a bakery.

“Cake!” she announced, pointing. “Christmas cake—that's the soul of Christmas!”

[3/3 End]

#MicroFiction #NMV366 #NMFic #FanFic #SliceOfLife

A Gyaru Explains Christmas ギャルがクリスマスを解説する (2/3)

#FanFiction #ThisGyarusGotAThingforVampireHunters?! #GyaVam
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/5 #PIXIVCharitySanta**

[Continued]

“Aren’t they dangerous?” Ruka asked. The question slipped out automatically.

“Dangerous? What cha mean?”

“Never mind. They’re cute.” Ruka had learned that any noise could alert a vampire or its spawn. With their preternatural hearing, there was no way they wouldn’t hear those bells. But it was a silly question. The vampires were all dead.

“Aw, you don’t sound like you mean it. I wore them just for you.”

“No, really, they’re cute, and so is the sweater.” Ginka’s delivery was still flat, which disappointed Ruka, but she accepted it. Ginka-chan was Ginka-chan, and you couldn’t expect exuberance from her.

“It’s not the kind of thing you usually wear,” Ginka added, nodding at the sweater with its panda mascot.

“Christmas is next week!” Ruka twirled. “Got ta celebrate!”

“I didn’t know you were a Christian.”

“I’m not, and neither are most of these people.” Ruka gestured to the crowd. “That’s not what it’s about. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She grabbed Ginka’s hand and led the way into the mall.

As they entered, Ginka’s eyes swiveled, taking it all in: the smiling people, harried ones, fake holly, busy holiday music, and an enormous tree adorned with tinsel and bright ornaments.

Her gaze moved to Ruka, and finally, a smile flickered on her lips. This was the girl who had introduced it all to her: clothes, makeup, school, friends, and karaoke—all things that Ginka had fought to preserve but had never experienced.

“Hey, look, it’s Hinaru & Meiri.” Ruka said, waving.

[2/3 Continued in the next post]

#MicroFiction #NMV366 #NMFic #FanFic #SliceOfLife

A Gyaru Explains Christmas ギャルがクリスマスを解説する(1/3)

#FanFiction #ThisGyarusGotAThingforVampireHunters?! #GyaVam
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/5 #PIXIVCharitySanta**

Ginka-chan went on high alert as soon as she got off at the mall station. “So many people,” she thought. She relaxed, though, when she spotted Ruka-chan in the crowd, waving at her.

The first thing Ginka noticed about her gyaru friend was her knee-high boots with two-inch cavalier heels. “How could she run in those?” Ginka muttered. Of course, Ruka wouldn’t need to run. There weren't any vampires lurking in the crowd, so she was safe.

That settled, Ginka took in the rest of Ruka’s outfit: a red sweater with a mascot on the front, a green dress, and candy-striped socks peeking out above her boots. The outfit sounded odd, but Ruka pulled it off with flair.

Still aware of the people around them, Ginka joined her friend. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“Do you like them?” Ruka said, ignoring the question. Instead, she shook her head, causing the little bells hanging from her earrings to make a bright, tinkling sound.

[1/3 Continued in the next post.]

#MicroFiction #NMV366 #NMFic #FanFic #SliceOfLife

Goldilocks and Brunhilde

#FanFiction @stevendbrewer – Bear and Forrest Stories
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/4 #PIXIVCharitySanta

The Volpex Picnic Park’s bear stopped and took a puff of his smoke. There was only the back area to check, and then he could take a nap. He looked forward to a lazy, warm winter day. Very few people used the park during the winter, even on a bright sunny day like this.

The exception was Brunhilde’s family. He could count on her and her mom stopping by on any pleasant weekend. And sure enough, there was their car driving away.

He smiled. Their going home would make things easier. He liked Brunhilde, but she was a handful.

That was why the whimpering issuing from their favorite site surprised him.

The bear quietly put out his cigarette, entered the site, and found Brunhilde sobbing, a book clutched to her chest. The family's picnic things were on the table, but an ice chest was turned over on its side, empty.

“Now, now,” the bear said patting her on the back. Then, as gently as possible, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

The girl turned her tear-stained face up to look at the bear. “Nothing,” she said, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“Big girls don’t cry over nothing,” Bear said, #brushing away her tears with the back of his paw. It scratched a bit, but seemed to comfort Brunhilde.

Bear continued, “It has to be something important for them to cry over. So what is it?”

“Masked bandits stole our picnic food, and Mom went to town to buy more. But she broke her promise to read to me.”

“That must have been Riteka Raccoon and her gang. I’ll deal with them later.”

Brunhilde held out the book. “Would you read to me, Mr. Bear?”

The bear looked at the book, squinting, trying to make out the title. “I know! Why don’t YOU read to me!”

“Oh,” Brunhilde said. “I’d love that.” A smile adorned her face. Any sign of #moping had disappeared.

She hurriedly opened the book and began, “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Goldilocks…”

“'…Someone is in my bed, and she is still there!' Goldilocks woke up and saw the three bears, screamed, and ran out of the house, never to return.”

Finished, Brunhilde asked, “Did you like the story, Mr. Bear?”

“It’s not the version I know, but I loved it.”

Suddenly, Forrest screamed from a nearby tree where they had been listening, “His version includes, ‘She took a puff of the cigar and said, “This is too strong.”’”

Brunhilde never heard the rest because Bear started throwing pinecones at Forrest.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMV366 #NMFic #Mythpunk #SliceOfLife

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This On is too Hot: Part 2

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss633 #Mastoprompt

Clair meanwhile, had drifted to the bookshelf. “They’re bound funny,” she called over to us.

“It’s just leather,” Rebecca said. Her face was red from blowing on the fire, but it was going now and had begun to warm the room.

“No, they’re icky, all crinkly to the touch and slimy. They make you feel weird.”

“Then don’t touch them,” I said.

“But they’re interesting,” Clair replied.

I shrugged and turned to Rebecca, saying, “She’s our daughter, all right.” Rebecca nodded.

“This book is too hard, but you might like this one.” Clair handed me a thick book. On the spine was written “Das Kapital. Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie.”

Clair was right; it made you feel funny: sad, like you were listening to someone crying. For a moment, I thought I heard someone shouting in Russian, followed by a scream.

“And this one is too simple,” Anastasia said, waking me from my daydream. She handed a copy of “Lang’s Blue Fairy Tales” to Rebecca.

I blinked; the room was fuzzy. “Anastasia?” That wasn’t right. I meant Clair. That was my daughter’s name.

Puzzled at my confusion, I watched her walk to the bookshelf again. Her white dress sparkled in the firelight.

She took out a third book. “#Dope! This one is just right,” she said in an odd voice: distant and sinister. She was holding a copy of “Ivanhoe Continued: The Burning of Rebecca.”

“Ah,” Rebecca gasped. I turned, expecting her to object to the “Goldilocks” game again, only she wasn’t there. All that was there was the wall, stove, and blaze in the fireplace, all seen as if in a distorted mirror.

“Mom?” Claire said and walked past me—diamonds draped her snow-white dress—she stopped at the fireplace, gazing at the blaze, which was going nicely, making the air smell faintly of pine smoke. Then I choked as a whiff of burned meat reached me.

Clair screamed, “Mom!” and pointed to the fire.

Wreathed in fire was the image of the woman I loved tied to a stake. The flames licked around her. You could all but her screams. Rebecca. Our Rebecca was there. Ivanhoe’s Rebecca. A witch burning for our sins.

2/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This On is too Hot: Part 1

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss633 #Mastoprompt

Rebecca closed the cabin door, shutting out the winter wind and snow that blew in. Our breath hung in clouds in the still, cold air of the room. We might be trespassing, but it was better than sitting in our stalled car.

I called out again, “Anyone home? Sorry for intruding, but our car broke down, and it’s freezing.”

Again, there was no response. The owners had probably gone to town to avoid the blizzard that was in the forecast.

We really shouldn’t have been on the road, but Grandma had grown tired of us and had hinted, “Thanksgiving is over. Wouldn’t you prefer sleeping in your own beds?”

My girlfriend moved past me to the fireplace. “I’ll light a fire. Why don’t you see if there’s food? We can leave money on the table when we leave to pay for any inconvenience.”

Clair had already begun exploring and called from the door at the far side of the room. “It’s a bedroom with three beds: one big, one small, and one in between. This one is too…”

“Don’t say it,” Rebecca called to her. I wasn’t sure why the joke bothered her so much, but it did. Rebecca had always been the stricter of the two of us and got peeved if I interfered, so I kept silent.

While the two did their thing, I began looking for food. The can on the table proved to be red bean soup made by a Japanese company. I’d always thought a sweet bean drink was weird, but I guessed it was popular. It was funny finding it here in the middle of the Bitterroot Mountains, and I wondered if the owners were Japanese.

A cupboard next to the stove proved more fruitful. There was some cup ramen, tins of diced tomatoes, a package of sun-dried #prunes, and a couple of kilos of rice.

Part 2 in the next post

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe

High Tea at The Royal Academy

•─⋅☾2. High Tea: Arrival☽⋅─•

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#wss366 #PIXIVCharitySanta

“Do you think Wilfred will be there?” Hannalore asked Cordula for the third time.

Her attendant resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It seems unlikely. It would be awkward, given what has occurred, but you'll find out soon enough.—But we are here; so please don’t #overlook your manners."

The room selected for the tea was small, decorated in the latest Alexandrian fashion, complete with elegant bookshelves and tasteful ornaments. Anyone daring to take out a book would have found that it was fake. Even the Alexandrian court, influenced by their new aub, couldn't afford to display this many books in a mere academy meeting room.

Hannalore chuckled. Knowing Rozemyne, the books would soon be real. She then blushed, embarrassed to have laughed out loud at such an inopportune moment. Her unfortunate timing had already played a trick on her.

Lady Sorrona rose as Hannalore entered. She was short for her age, with a face unfashionably sun-darkened. Yet she had a cute smile, and her clothes were in the best taste, liberally decorated with tiny lace flowers in the Ehrenfest fashion.

"Lady Hannalore, once again, Dregarnuhr, the Goddess of Time, has woven our threads together and blessed us with a meeting," Sorrona greeted her. Her voice quavered, and Hannalore felt sympathy for her. She, too, felt nervous when hosting others. It must be much worse for Sorrona, a first-year, hosting such important individuals. The duty must have fallen to her because the ranks of Alexandria's nobles had been severely thinned by the recent war and by Ferdinand's removal of others he deemed untrustworthy. The man was truly ruthless.

Still, surely they could have found someone more experienced. There were other Alexandrian students at the Royal Academy.

Hannalore curtsied and smiled reassuringly at the young woman. "I am honored by your invitation and have been looking forward to the event."

“I hope you can stay afterward and talk,” Sorrona said. “Aub Rozemyne gave me a special message for you."

The guest who had arrived early stirred. Such overt favoritism was unthinkable unless it were a deliberate snub. Poor Sorrona didn’t look sophisticated enough to have mastered that noble art yet.

"Poor girl," Hannalore thought. "She's already made a faux pas."

"Dregarnuhr has kindly bound our threads extra long." Hannalore bowed while taking in who else was there: Ehrenfest, of course; Blumenfeld; and Klassenberg. Behind her, she could hear Drewanchel arriving. The fact that such high-ranking duchies had come to a first-year's tea—a duchy inferior to most of them—spoke to the influence of Alexandria's archduchess.

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm

#Wss366 11/27 Consult

Snip from "For Love of a Konbini Idol

We stopped just inside the hall and listened for pursuers, but there wasn’t any sound. Hopefully, that meant we had the floor to ourselves. At least from corporeal entities. Supernatural creatures were another thing, one we probably couldn’t avoid. I shivered, remembering Uguisu’s malign presence.

After #consulting a map on the wall, we turned to the right, walking past rooms filled with empty hospital beds, spilled medical supplies, and equipment. As we turned down a side passage, we froze at the distant sound of high heels and the rattle of a patient room being opened.

Silence descended again, and we hurried down the passage, away from the noise toward the surgery.

**End Snip

#KonbiniIdol #NMV366

#TheMoonsHindMostWound

10. Moonlight Snare

#FanFiction #TheApothecaryDiaries
#wss366

The cavalcade moved down the hill toward the house. Each person carefully led their horse to avoid rocks and walked on soft soil whenever possible.

Halfway down the slope, the inevitable happened, and the sound of rattling stones broke the silence. Below, in response, a light flared in the house.

In an instant, Basen sounded a blast on a war horn, and the brassy #refrain of another followed across the valley. The troops sprang into their saddles.

Before Mao knew it, she’d been thrown across a horse’s back, and her guard had mounted behind her. “Be still,” the woman hissed.

From Mao's perspective, everything became a blur of confusion. The rhythm of the horse's gait, the rough hand holding her, and the vibrations of thundering hooves made it difficult for her to regain her breath. The ground beneath them danced as it raced by, making her dizzy. In that chaos, Mao could only form two coherent thoughts: "Don't vomit," and "Just wait until that woman needs medical attention." However, neither thought lasted long, as her ribs collided with the saddle horn with each stride of the horse.

As suddenly as it started, the mad race ended at the house. From her supine position, all she could see were shadowy figures jumping from their horses and rushing into the building. It was only then that they broke their silence, shouting out a variety of war cries.

Mao slid off the horse, holding on to it as the ground pitched beneath her. She took a few wobbly steps to follow the soldiers, only to feel the woman’s hand on her shoulder restraining her.

“I need to ensure that no one escapes,” Mao gasped.

“Don’t worry, little Apothecary Lady. None will escape this snare.”

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMFic #NMV366
#ApothecaryDiaries

Odyssey

#Wss366 11/25

She #plied him with wine and then poppy. Her charms swirled in that dusky haze as her raven tresses brushed his face, and the sounds of war and the smell of Troy burning blurred and faded.

The next morning, she had a new lapdog. He was too pretty to become swine.

Homer’s “Odyssey:

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Odyssey #Ulysses #Circe #NMV366 #NMFic #Mythpunk

#wss366 11/23

"We'll just #graft the arm here."

"Won't that be awkward," the assistant asked.

"Not at all. It will never need a backscracher."

#MicroFiction #TootFic #nmfic #NMV366

High Tea at The Royal Academy

•─☾1. High Tea: Invitation☽⋅─•

#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#wss366

The invitation was something only Rozemyne and her close allies could have made. It was an heirloom treasure, printed in fine script on the best paper. Hannalore had never seen anything like it before. Brilliant red, green, and exotic purple lines intertwined to spell out:

          “Alexandria invites you to high tea and sweets tasting.”

Lilac petals adorned the tear-resistant paper, accompanied by a sweet floral scent. There was nothing #modest about it. It screamed “trendsetter.”

Below, a time and date were printed along with First-Year Sorrona’s signature, written in slightly shaky letters. On the back was a personal note in Rozemyne’s flowing hand.

“My dear bookworm friend, I am sorry that I cannot attend, but please enjoy the latest sweets I have dreamed up. Also, please allot some extra time for a private event after the tea.”

          Rozemyne

The absence of her title, "Aub Alexandria," showed just how highly the Aub regarded Hannalore. When she used the term "friend," it wasn't mere flattery. That was a rare thing for a noble.

Even without the personalized note, the invitation caused quite a stir, and students hastily rearranged previously scheduled teas. Sorrona was only a mid-tier noble, from the fourth-rank Duchy of Alexandra—not someone who was due such deference. But with Rozemyne obviously behind the event, missing it was unthinkable. She was famous for starting new trends, and experiencing her newest invention—high tea—or tasting her latest treats was not to be missed.

Tags: #SliceOfLife #AoaB #MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic #Bookworm

#TheMoonsHindMostWound

9. Balanced on the Rim 縁にバランスを取って

#FanFiction #TheApothecaryDiaries
#wss366 #MastoPrompt

Basen’s company rode in a silence that was only broken by the hoot of an owl or the clatter of a rock kicked up by a horse. He called a halt just before the crest of a hill and signaled to two riders.

“Alert the guards and prepare to seize anyone who flees out the back. Signal with three short flashes when you’re ready.”

The riders #wheeled one to the right and one to the left and disappeared down paths. As they vanished, Basen signaled for the soldiers to dismount. They did so and began attending to their weapons and armor. Where possible, they made their weapons less lethal, such as by padding the tips of #lances or substituting blunt weapons for edged ones.

Mao’s bodyguard helped her dismount. Whatever resentment she might have remained hidden behind her professional manner. Mao returned the favor and didn’t accidentally kick her.

Once the weapons were secured, rations began appearing. Her guard produced rice cakes and dried fish. Mao eyed them hungrily. While they weren’t elegant fare, she’d eaten worse and, unlike the food at the inn, they were unlikely to make her ill. The question was whether her pride would let her ask for some.

“May I have...” she began asking, but stopped when the woman handed her a cake and some fish. The woman watched as Mao took a bite of the cake.

Seeming satisfied when Mao made no complaint, the woman said, “I’m Böktemür. It means steel, but I’m called Mù’er.”

The only part that stuck in Mao’s memory was “steel,” which was appropriate for a mercenary.

“I’m Maomao, but you can call me Mao. For the record, I’m an apothecary, not a lady.”

“Before, my tongue was rude. Forgive it, Apothecary Woman.”

“Accepted, Steel.”

They ate in silence and then sat waiting while the moon moved across the sky. When it #balanced on the rim of the far hills, Basen announced, “The signal. Advance silently until I signal, then ride like the wind. Capture, don’t kill.”

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMFic #NMV366
#ApothecaryDiaries

Minashi-by-the-Sea (What the Iron-Gray Catkin Saw)

#Wss366

Conclution

Kurotsuki Kaibyō awoke the next morning to the sounds of bamboo flutes and lime wood lyres out in the street. Inside the inn, the whining of merchants denied their morning meal could be heard, for its iron-gray owner had already taken a berth on a ship bound for fair hills #unblighted by Kurosuki’s shadow, and the new owner was nowhere to be seen.

Restlessly, the Stealer of Dreams walked the streets. The smells of roasted lamb skewers, chestnuts fresh from the coals, and overflowing drinks of rum, redolent with the scent of lime, cinnamon, and cloves held no appeal for her, for she had heard Nyarlathotep’s piping and it haunted her like nothing had before.

Still, when the people paraded out of the city to frolic in the orchards on the hills, she made her way to the High Citadel. After casting wary glances to see if anyone was watching, she climbed the walls in a spot sheltered from the Toads of Lang’s view. Then, on silent feet, she jumped to the courtyard and swiftly blended into the shadows of the citadel itself.

It took only moments to slip through the moldering gate that none had dared to maintain in centuries.

What happened then no one knows. But the obscene piping that night grew louder, drowning out the bright bells and lutes of the celebration. The iron-gray catkin whose name might mean “She Who Fled a Doom That Did Not Come” reported seeing something drifting amid the lime blossoms festooning the waters of the harbor. Something that should not have been there. What is known is that Kurotsuki Kaibyō, the Stealer of Dreams, was no longer seen walking on silent feet amid the shadows of doomed dreamers.

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMPrompts #NMV366 #Lovecraft #LordDunsany #Pastiche #Cats #Otherkin #Catgirl #Neko

11/16 #Wss366 #crude #MastoPrompt #hunter #SundayLit Twist

#FanFiction #TheHunger 1983

“I must have died and gone to heaven. I see an angel.”

I looked over, taking in the speaker. Crude like his clothes: expensive, tasteless, like a gold-plated oil donkey gushing crude.

“I thik I’d too many.” I slurred, then looked at him. “Gin fizzy.” (Giggle.) “Lime twist,” and pushed my empty glass across the bar.

“You’ll hav’ta excuse me, powder woom.”

Pushing through the crowd, I stopped in front of the restroom and looked back in time to see him add something to my drink.

“A hunter,” I thought. But I was one too, fingering my razor-sharp ankh medallion.

#NMV366 #NMPrompt #NMSL #Vampire #TheHunger1983
#Drabble #MicroFiction #TootFic #FanFic

11/16 #Wss366 #crude #MastoPrompt #hunter #SundayLit Twist

#FanFiction #TheHunger 1983

“I must have died and gone to heaven. I see an angel.”

I looked over, taking in the speaker. Crude like his clothes: expensive, tasteless, like a gold-plated oil donkey gushing crude.

“I thik I’d too many.” I slurred, then looked at him. “Gin fizzy.” (Giggle.) “Lime twist,” and pushed my empty glass across the bar.

“You’ll hav’ta excuse me, powder woom.”

Pushing through the crowd, I stopped in front of the restroom and looked back in time to see him add something to my drink.

“A hunter,” I thought. But I was one too, fingering my razor-sharp ankh medallion.

#NMV366 #NMPrompt #NMSL #Vampire #TheHunger1983
#Drabble #MicroFiction #TootFic #FanFic

11/16 #Wss366 #crude #MastoPrompt #hunter #SundayLit Twist

#FanFiction #TheHunger 1983

“I must have died and gone to heaven. I see an angel.”

I looked over, taking in the speaker. Crude like his clothes: expensive, tasteless, like a gold-plated oil donkey gushing crude.

“I thik I’d too many.” I slurred, then looked at him. “Gin fizzy.” (Giggle.) “Lime twist,” and pushed my empty glass across the bar.

“You’ll hav’ta excuse me, powder woom.”

Pushing through the crowd, I stopped in front of the restroom and looked back in time to see him add something to my drink.

“A hunter,” I thought. But I was one too, fingering my razor-sharp ankh medallion.

#NMV366 #NMPrompt #NMSL #Vampire #TheHunger1983
#Drabble #MicroFiction #TootFic #FanFic

11/16 #Wss366 #crude #MastoPrompt #hunter #SundayLit Twist

#FanFiction #TheHunger 1983

“I must have died and gone to heaven. I see an angel.”

I looked over, taking in the speaker. Crude like his clothes: expensive, tasteless, like a gold-plated oil donkey gushing crude.

“I thik I’d too many.” I slurred, then looked at him. “Gin fizzy.” (Giggle.) “Lime twist,” and pushed my empty glass across the bar.

“You’ll hav’ta excuse me, powder woom.”

Pushing through the crowd, I stopped in front of the restroom and looked back in time to see him add something to my drink.

“A hunter,” I thought. But I was one too, fingering my razor-sharp ankh medallion.

#NMV366 #NMPrompt #NMSL #Vampire #TheHunger1983
#Drabble #MicroFiction #TootFic #FanFic

Nov. 15/11 #Wss366 #numb #MastoPrompt #scarab

The rocks fell from Wayna Qhapaq, one of the last Inca rulers from before the Huascar-Atahualpa civil war, tomb’s entrance. It was a lost tomb, and who knew how much treasure it held? Melting the gold alone would make us rich and ensure that our looting went undiscovered.

Looking at the map, I said, “Just beyond here is a boulder trap, à la Indiana Jones. The release is here.” I reached into the indicated indentation, setting the brake.

“Look,” Professor Lustem said, taking a golden scarab from another indentation.

I wanted to say, “Don’t,” but my tongue was already numb.

Inca Civil War:

#Microfiction #Tootfic #Drabble #NMV366 #Inca #Incas

Not What She Wanted 彼女が望んでいたものとは違う

Aoyama Blue Mountain’s Birthday 青山ブルーマウンテン生誕祭2025

#FanFiction #IsTheOrderARabbit #GochiUsa

#Wss366

“Seeee you later and happy birthday,” Rin-san said, leaning tipsily against the door

Then she staggered out the door after one last parting shot. “And, I ex-expect to seee a draft of “The Great Usagi #Caper,” next week.”

Aoyama laid her head on the bar. “Even on my birthday! Nag, nag, nag.”

Takahiro leaned over the bar and patted her head. “Sounds like it will be another bestseller.”

“My birthday,” Aoyama wailed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

"We're alone now, so let me give you this." Takahiro reached under the bar and brought out a bottle with a red ribbon around its neck. "Kirishima Gold Label Imo Shochu. Happy birthday.”

Aoyama sat up and interrupted him by reaching across the bar and dragging Takahsiro halfway across by his collar. “That’s not what I want.”

"This is what I want," she said and kissed him.

"Get a room!" came a voice. "Anyone! would have thought the Algora rabbit had spoken.

“I heard my mentor!” Aoyama looked around wildly.

Takahiro shook his head at the rabbit. “I think your mentor is right. Let me close up, and then we can get a room.”

#MicroFiction #TootFic #NMV366 #NMFic

Mating of the Deer and Fox (Part 2: Fox)

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt

Soon, he had lit a fire and started roasting a hare over it. Wrapped in wet leaves and buried under the coals, the mushrooms cooked with wild onions. When they were done, they ate the fare seasoned with salt from a #stash in his pack. Besides a simple compliment and equally simple acknowledgment, they ate in silence—he out of habit, and she out of deference.

Food finished, the Shaw broke the silence. “I’ll show you the way to your village tomorrow. You may keep my cloak tonight; it will be cold.”

“Omnit thanks you. But aren’t you afraid my kin will find and kill you?”

“Aren’t you afraid of being alone in the #wilderness with an oathless Shaw? And to answer your question, no. I will have faded away long before they arrive. Your people make a rutting bear sound quiet.”

“Oh,” she said, silent for a moment. “I’m not afraid of being alone with you anymore. You’re the gentlest man I’ve ever met.”

“Your husband? Father? Brothers?”

“Brutes. They brought us here to settle. I’ve seen what they do to the Shaws they capture. They say it’s their just desserts. As for me, I must do as I am told.”

The man pulled a sour face but didn’t comment.

“It will be cold tonight, and you’ve given me your cloak. I could share it with you.” The woman’s voice was soft again, and her eyes were cast down.

“Your husband?” he asked.

“Arranged.” Her voice was barely audible. “A rutting bear.” Then, looking up, she bit her lip and added in a rush, “For once I’d like to know what it’s like to be with someone gentle.”

When the night fell silent and the woman slept, the Shaw looked up at the stars, tracing Sister Canin among them. He wondered whether his mother’s words were true. Did Canin’s blood run through his veins, however diluted it had become over the ages?

He touched the fox’s tail braided in his hair and thought, “If not literally, then figuratively.”

Rolling over, he traced the flank of the “Deer” woman next to him. He thought sadly, “The deer and fox were not meant to mate. I hope she will be okay. And if the seed takes root, I wish the same for it.”

Then he too drifted off.

They ate in silence the next morning, he from habit, and she lost in memory. When they reached the trail to her village, he bid her stay a moment.

He took a shawl from his pack and said, “It was my mother’s. It’s all I have to give you.”

“But…” she began, but he silenced her with a finger.

“The nameless do not need such things. Keep it and remember that there are gentle things in the world. She was gentle, and so are you.” Before she could protest further, he turned and disappeared.

Note 1: #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

Note 2: #Kickstarter “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMFic #NMV366

Plump Kings.

4. The Plump King’s Patch

#FanFiction #IAmInLoveWithTheVillainess
#wss366 #MastoPrompt

"Thump, thump." Something woke Claire and Rae in the middle of the night

Rae grabbed Claire, shivering. “Did you hear that? “Footsteps! On-on-on the roof.”

For once, Claire didn’t push her away. “There’s someone up there,” she hissed. “Go see what it is?”

Rae pried her arms off and got out of bed.

“Splash, squish.”

“There’s water!” Rae’s voice was shrill as she stepped into a puddle of water by the bed. “A ghost’s been here.” [Note: In Japan, ghosts are associated with water. When one visits you, it often leaves a puddle of water behind.]

Claire crept out of bed. “Squish, splash.”

In the moonlight, Rae could see Claire biting her lip. Her hand trembled as she grasped Rae’s.

“There’s something in the garden.” Claire’s voice squeaked.

“Garden?” Rae muttered to herself.

Claire tugged on Rae’s hand. “We need to find out what it is. The kids. We have to protect them.”

Rae followed Claire through the shadowy house.

“Rattle, rattle, bang.”

Claire shrieked as the pots and pans in the kitchen danced.

Rae chuckled to herself. This was going much better than she’d expected. Claire had swallowed the bait: hook, line, and sinker. She was even imagining things out in the garden. Rae hadn’t even put anything in the garden. This was a whole new #level of teasing!

Rae opened the door and stopped. In the garden, a ghostly head floated amid the weeds at the garden's edge. Its eyes and mouth flickered like dying candles. It was a face that was stamped indelibly in her mind, synonymous with villainy.

“Salas Lilium,” Rae muttered. “Returned for revenge, no doubt.”

She squeezed Claire’s hand and said in a low voice, "#Joint attack." Then, she charged out of the house shouting, “Team Claire!” The door slammed behind her.

Gales of laughter spilled out, not from the apparition but from Claire.

“Surprise,” Claire sputtered between peals of laughter. “You didn’t think you were going to fool me this time, did you?”

Under the pumpkin, which was carved to look like Salas, Rae found warm blankets and cushions.

Rae smiled. Claire was the kindest, loveliest bully she’d ever known.

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Serial #NMV366 #NMFic
#WataOshi #Pumpkin #Halloween #Spooktober

Mating of the Deer and Fox (Part 1: Fawn)

#Wss366

The Inacar woman looked across the clearing and shrank back. The man she’d just spotted examined her curiously. He was tall with broad shoulders. Fox tails dangled from his red hair, and a vulpine face adorned his bare, brawny chest.

“Lost?” he asked in a Shaw accent.

She nodded and looked back the way she’d come. The branches hung over the animal track in a tangled mass. Fleeing would be #totally impossible.

Her eyes returned to the Shaw. He was kneeling now, looking at her with a narrow, calculating gaze, as if she were a frightened titmouse or fawn. She shivered, remembering the stories about how the Shaw treated captured women.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His tone held no trace of guile, but could she trust that?

“You’re a Shaw.” Her voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to reach him.

“I’m an in-between, no longer a Shaw.”

“Oathless,” she said. Fear still trembled in her voice.

“That’s what your people call me. Those that were mine have no name for me, for I no longer exist.”

He slowly reached behind him and pulled a pack from where it had been hidden in the ferns.

“If you’re cold, I can make a fire,” he said. “I also have food. Perhaps we can share.” He looked at the basket she held.

She took a hesitant, fawn-like step forward. “I was picking mushrooms and got lost.”

He nodded but said nothing.

She took another step forward when a loud crash came from the bushes. She froze, staring.

“It’s just a deer I was hunting. Perhaps one of your kin?” His laugh was a pleasant rumble in his chest. She liked the sound and stepped closer.

In response, he took off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Sit while I gather wood.”

To be Continued

Note 1: #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.
Note 2: #Kickstarter “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMFic #NMV366

Mating of the Deer and Fox (Part 1: Fawn)

#Wss366

The Inacar woman looked across the clearing and shrank back. The man she’d just spotted examined her curiously. He was tall with broad shoulders. Fox tails dangled from his red hair, and a vulpine face adorned his bare, brawny chest.

“Lost?” he asked in a Shaw accent.

She nodded and looked back the way she’d come. The branches hung over the animal track in a tangled mass. Fleeing would be #totally impossible.

Her eyes returned to the Shaw. He was kneeling now, looking at her with a narrow, calculating gaze, as if she were a frightened titmouse or fawn. She shivered, remembering the stories about how the Shaw treated captured women.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His tone held no trace of guile, but could she trust that?

“You’re a Shaw.” Her voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to reach him.

“I’m an in-between, no longer a Shaw.”

“Oathless,” she said. Fear still trembled in her voice.

“That’s what your people call me. Those that were mine have no name for me, for I no longer exist.”

He slowly reached behind him and pulled a pack from where it had been hidden in the ferns.

“If you’re cold, I can make a fire,” he said. “I also have food. Perhaps we can share.” He looked at the basket she held.

She took a hesitant, fawn-like step forward. “I was picking mushrooms and got lost.”

He nodded but said nothing.

She took another step forward when a loud crash came from the bushes. She froze, staring.

“It’s just a deer I was hunting. Perhaps one of your kin?” His laugh was a pleasant rumble in his chest. She liked the sound and stepped closer.

In response, he took off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Sit while I gather wood.”

To be Continued

Note 1: #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.
Note 2: #Kickstarter “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMFic #NMV366

Mating of the Deer and Fox (Part 1: Fawn)

#Wss366

The Inacar woman looked across the clearing and shrank back. The man she’d just spotted examined her curiously. He was tall with broad shoulders. Fox tails dangled from his red hair, and a vulpine face adorned his bare, brawny chest.

“Lost?” he asked in a Shaw accent.

She nodded and looked back the way she’d come. The branches hung over the animal track in a tangled mass. Fleeing would be #totally impossible.

Her eyes returned to the Shaw. He was kneeling now, looking at her with a narrow, calculating gaze, as if she were a frightened titmouse or fawn. She shivered, remembering the stories about how the Shaw treated captured women.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His tone held no trace of guile, but could she trust that?

“You’re a Shaw.” Her voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to reach him.

“I’m an in-between, no longer a Shaw.”

“Oathless,” she said. Fear still trembled in her voice.

“That’s what your people call me. Those that were mine have no name for me, for I no longer exist.”

He slowly reached behind him and pulled a pack from where it had been hidden in the ferns.

“If you’re cold, I can make a fire,” he said. “I also have food. Perhaps we can share.” He looked at the basket she held.

She took a hesitant, fawn-like step forward. “I was picking mushrooms and got lost.”

He nodded but said nothing.

She took another step forward when a loud crash came from the bushes. She froze, staring.

“It’s just a deer I was hunting. Perhaps one of your kin?” His laugh was a pleasant rumble in his chest. She liked the sound and stepped closer.

In response, he took off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Sit while I gather wood.”

To be Continued

Note 1: #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.
Note 2: #Kickstarter “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMFic #NMV366

Mating of the Deer and Fox (Part 1: Fawn)

#Wss366

The Inacar woman looked across the clearing and shrank back. The man she’d just spotted examined her curiously. He was tall with broad shoulders. Fox tails dangled from his red hair, and a vulpine face adorned his bare, brawny chest.

“Lost?” he asked in a Shaw accent.

She nodded and looked back the way she’d come. The branches hung over the animal track in a tangled mass. Fleeing would be #totally impossible.

Her eyes returned to the Shaw. He was kneeling now, looking at her with a narrow, calculating gaze, as if she were a frightened titmouse or fawn. She shivered, remembering the stories about how the Shaw treated captured women.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His tone held no trace of guile, but could she trust that?

“You’re a Shaw.” Her voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to reach him.

“I’m an in-between, no longer a Shaw.”

“Oathless,” she said. Fear still trembled in her voice.

“That’s what your people call me. Those that were mine have no name for me, for I no longer exist.”

He slowly reached behind him and pulled a pack from where it had been hidden in the ferns.

“If you’re cold, I can make a fire,” he said. “I also have food. Perhaps we can share.” He looked at the basket she held.

She took a hesitant, fawn-like step forward. “I was picking mushrooms and got lost.”

He nodded but said nothing.

She took another step forward when a loud crash came from the bushes. She froze, staring.

“It’s just a deer I was hunting. Perhaps one of your kin?” His laugh was a pleasant rumble in his chest. She liked the sound and stepped closer.

In response, he took off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Sit while I gather wood.”

To be Continued

Note 1: #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.
Note 2: #Kickstarter “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMFic #NMV366

Mating of the Deer and Fox (Part 1: Fawn)

#Wss366

The Inacar woman looked across the clearing and shrank back. The man she’d just spotted examined her curiously. He was tall with broad shoulders. Fox tails dangled from his red hair, and a vulpine face adorned his bare, brawny chest.

“Lost?” he asked in a Shaw accent.

She nodded and looked back the way she’d come. The branches hung over the animal track in a tangled mass. Fleeing would be #totally impossible.

Her eyes returned to the Shaw. He was kneeling now, looking at her with a narrow, calculating gaze, as if she were a frightened titmouse or fawn. She shivered, remembering the stories about how the Shaw treated captured women.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His tone held no trace of guile, but could she trust that?

“You’re a Shaw.” Her voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to reach him.

“I’m an in-between, no longer a Shaw.”

“Oathless,” she said. Fear still trembled in her voice.

“That’s what your people call me. Those that were mine have no name for me, for I no longer exist.”

He slowly reached behind him and pulled a pack from where it had been hidden in the ferns.

“If you’re cold, I can make a fire,” he said. “I also have food. Perhaps we can share.” He looked at the basket she held.

She took a hesitant, fawn-like step forward. “I was picking mushrooms and got lost.”

He nodded but said nothing.

She took another step forward when a loud crash came from the bushes. She froze, staring.

“It’s just a deer I was hunting. Perhaps one of your kin?” His laugh was a pleasant rumble in his chest. She liked the sound and stepped closer.

In response, he took off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Sit while I gather wood.”

To be Continued

Note 1: #FanFiction for a yet-to-be-published book, “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.
Note 2: #Kickstarter “Soul Fire” by Jesse Sprague.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #Fantasy #NMFic #NMV366

#百物語 #HyakuMonogatari: 14 Smile 微笑

#Fandom #AlfredHitchcock #Psycho
#DrabbleTober #Spooktober
#SundayLit (#Happy & #Sad) #Wss366 #WordWeavers 10.5 — Antagonist sadness?

A smile touched his lips, like a frost bloom on iron-hard ground: brittle, cold, and easily erased.

His eyes focused on the decaying Victorian on the hill. Mother would be so proud of his cleverness.

She had been so upset when the sheriff came by to ask questions about the abandoned car on Ashcreek Lane. Her shrill voice—a searing, shrieking wind, orphaned sparrows #piping under eaves, and the whistle of a willow cane—blew the crystal away.

But he was cleverer now. His eyes followed the bubbles emerging from the muddy bog, and with them, a full smile welled.

[Note 1] Feel free to join in #Drabbletober (A spooky 100-word story a day.)
[Note 2] Or join in on #HayakuMongogatari. Number your submissions one higher than the last. If we reach 100, a spook is supposed to appear. An internet #youkai. Maybe the muskrat.
[Note 3] Image from Psycho, Directed by Alfred Hitchcock

#NMV366 #Drabble #Horror #Halloween #Hitchcock #NMWW #NMPrompts #NMSL #MicroFiction #TootFic

Market Open

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #SundayLit

The #market had just #opened, and Tina #trembled. This was her first show, a small affair in a neighboring village. There were a few farmers, a bored crafts person, a phone service vendor, one juggler, and a local musician.

Still, she was terrified. What if people thought her work was junk or that her display was sucky? Hopefully, no one from home would visit. That would be awful. She could hear the kids at school whispering about how cringe she was already.

Two old ladies stopped by, saying, “How cute! They’re darling.” Then they left without buying anything. Being treated like a cute kid was embarrassing. She’d worked hard on binding her stories and creating the cover art.

A man wearing a worn suit with leather patches on the elbows, like professors wore, stopped at her table.

He opened a few books, leafed through one, read a few lines to himself, and then looked at her and asked, "Did you make these?”

She nodded, then found her voice. “Yes, sir. I wrote them and bound them in-in-in the best leather-leather. I even made the cover art with old Tandy tools I found in the attic.”

“They’re good, and their prices are too low.”

He looked over her stock and selected five. “I’ll buy these if you give me a 20% discount. I’d like your email address. If they’re well-received, I’ll purchase more. At 20% off your new price. Maybe double at first, you can raise them later.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, wrapping them up.

“Here’s my card,” the man said. She looked at it and saw that it read, “Findle’s Rare and Exotic Books.”

#NMSL #NMV366 #NMPrompts #MicroFiction #TootFic #SliceOfLife

#TimeTravelingGhost Part 43: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart. 2 of 3

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/21. Characters’ sincerity?

In front of us rose a dense wall of low, tangled scrub, and beyond that, the jagged silhouette of tall trees loomed against the night sky. I could identify palm trees among them. A cool breeze blew off the ocean, along with the steady drum of the surf. Out of the wind, the night was warm and humid. The air smelled of salt, leaf mold, and something faintly acrid.

“Heinr… Henrietta—Bijou?” She faltered and then asked, “What should I call you? That professor called you Henrietta something-or-other, but that’s not the name you gave me.”

“Mademoiselle Henrietta Dubois is dead, and I don’t even remember what her life was like. But Henrietta is easier than Luminelle. So, Henrietta Bijou will do.”

“Should I call you Hetty or Retta? What would you like?”

“Bijou. It’s easy, and what you’ve been calling me.”

“Okay, Bijou… Do you think there are timeparticles where there was no Great War and another war with Germany fizzles out?”

“It’s possible. If there are other time-travelers, it’s something they might want to do. Then again, maybe not. I’m guessing there’re forces working against that. Someone or something ransacked my office and murdered me.”

“Rabbits?”

“That seems like a good guess.”

“It never stops, does it, Bijou? We just keep doing it over and over.”

I changed the subject. Not to be a #jerk, but the conversation stirred up the shadows of uncomfortable memories and feelings. “I think I know where we are. Not the name, but the historical event. Let’s go find Amelia.”

I turned and walked down the beach. I found myself singing.

          Where have all the flowers gone?
          Long time passing.
          …
          Gone for soldiers, every one.
          …
          When will they ever learn?
          When will they ever learn? [Note 2]

Note 2: Where have all the flowers gone -The Kingston Trio

Part 3 continues in the next post.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP