Day 3 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story inspired by these three pictures.
Shannon: “You must be Leo,” I spoke up from the tree I was leaning on as soon as I caught sight of the new face. He looked like a lost puppy, carrying his suitcase and bags. He looked to me a little surprised, but didn’t say a word as he started walking in my direction. “I’m Faye,” I stood up to introduce myself.
He shook my hand as he looked into my eyes, “Nice to meet you.” I got little distracted by how his iris were almost as dark as his pupils, when there was a sharp pain on my palm.
“Ow,” we both pulled our hands away and I examined mine to see that it was red and rough as if I’d touched something hot.
“I’m sorry. I thought I could prove that I could control my power, and get out of here. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he looked down, preparing for my backlash.
“It’s okay. I get it, but I’m not the one you should be trying to impress. I was banished here too.”
“Earth is our home, not this place. They can’t really make us stay here, can they?”
“They’ve deemed our powers are dangerous, and we can’t control them. They could do much worse to us than this. Come on I’ll show you where to put you’re things,” I waved him to follow.
He sighed, but listened, “So what makes you dangerous?”
I turned around, “How about I show you?” He agreed with a smirk, and we headed to my room.
I opened the door to the familiar sound of violin music and laughter that transformed into a swarm of live inanimate objects greeting us hello. Leo jumped back, “What the…”
“Who is this,” the floor mat questioned.
“A new reject.”
“A new friend,” my chess pieces cheered.
“You make things come to life,” he looked at me, confused.
I nodded, “Only inanimate objects, and it doesn’t work on fabric.”
“Why is that so dangerous?”
“Armies of objects that can’t die. It was a little too intimidating for the council.”
“Why would anyone do that? And how can they assume these objects have the potential to be evil?” He seemed more upset about my placement than his own. He put his hands out to let a group of pawns jump into his palms. They began gossiping about his looks before complaining about the heat. “Sorry,” he quickly handed them to me.
“I’m sure they told you. It’s not about how you can stop it, but about how they can stop you. If they can’t successfully cage the power on Earth, we end up here.”
Erin: I finally found my way on my new planet. The purple air started to taste blue, or maybe even tasted better than blue. My body seemed to walk, but walking was more like floating there, and I had come to like floating far better than walking. Pompee was filled with tickles and once I started to befriend the Zorks, getting stuck there didn’t seem like such a bad fate. Even being the designated “transferrer” at work, because of my size, didn’t seem like such an insult.
The little Zorks filled the pudding cups and slid them down the line to be lidded. Then I would transfer to packing and the train would fly them to the markets. Work was fun with how sound came through the air particles in Pompee. The injecting machine chimed, when the cups slid they whistled, and the tape guns snapped. Her coworkers could keep a good beat. “Wal mantana keyote,” Tasseray’s hair shot to the ceiling as he yelled.
All of the Zorks started chanting in unison initiating a crescendo that evolved into a holler. Once they were all shrilling with a consistent vibrato a human boy walked into the room. A person just like me, not a little, colorful, legless, armless… Zonk. My eyes were deceiving me, but if he was real I could be happy in Pompee, and I could be happy with him. The shrilling faded and slowed. His hair was silver, my favorite color. He walked toward me. He wafted his sugar scent in my direction. I tried to blink away my mirage and on the third attempt I succeeded.
I was back on stage and back on earth. I dropped my bow and violin to my side as our conductor smiled at us. I along with the other humans bowed for the crowd. No one seemed suspicious. They must have thought I never left, but the homesickness burning a hole in my side would beg to differ. My need to get back to the silver haired boy would beg to differ.
Three pictures for day three. Share your stories with us here or any of the other places we are, we’d love to here from you!