Eeep! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late to create! Without further ado, here are your prompts this week.
| Before | Lightning Strike! | After |
| Padre | “To a bloody war and a sickly season” | Fiona Grey |
| Fiona Grey | The farmer’s market was the best place to hire an assassin for several reasons. | nother Mike |
| Becky Jones | The small face stared out at her from under the shed. | Leigh Kimmel |
| Leigh Kimmel | The trip wasn’t that far, but right now the big question was “how far is too far?” | AC Young |
| nother Mike | There was blood on the scissors… | Padre |
| AC Young | Time travel is dangerous. If you accidentally prevent your own birth… | Becky Jones |
And for this week’s belated spares:
| Spare | The wedding ring had a key attached… |
| Spare | If only they’d dug an inch deeper… |
| Spare | “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something true.” |
| Spare | How did the baby squirrels get in the pantry? |
| Spare | What do you do with a drunken sailor? |
Let’s toss in an image prompt as well, as late tax.
Don’t forget to come back and share your creations in the comments. Cheers!
Images created by Fiona Grey using MidJourney
More Odds Than Ends 
This week lightning struck. Leigh Kimmel supplied: The trip wasn’t that far, but right now the big question was “how far is too far?”
—
The viewing chamber in the cruisespaceship was packed with tourists gawping at the wonders of the rings of Saturn, literally filling the view as they orbited the planet.
Mrs Tenby was amused as the pupils she was escorting started the inevitable debate.
“We’ve come a long way.”
“No we haven’t. It only took us a day to get here from the spaceport.”
As the kids continued their argument, she mused that technology had made things a lot closer than they were in generations past. There was a time when astronauts took months to get from Earth to Saturn, and then had to spend months to get back. Now, just catch the shuttle to the orbiting spaceport, then board the spacecruiseship. Then let the ship do the work, and a round trip to Saturn, including plenty of time to see the sights, would take less than a week, depending on relative orbital locations.
“But how far is too far?”
“Pluto?”
“No, that’s, what? A week there and a week back. That’s not too far for a holiday.”
“Alpha Centauri?”
“For a holiday, yes. For a family visit, yes. For a trader? No. A fortnight to escape the gravity well, then a fortnight at faster than light, then another fortnight to reach the settlements. Another six weeks back. For a trader with suitable goods in the hold, there’ll be more than enough profit to make the trip worthwhile.”
Mrs Tenby was impressed at Julian’s understanding. Then she remembered that his father was one of those traders. He hauled manufactured goods that the colonies hadn’t yet started to manufacture to sell to the colonists, then he hauled back the raw materials that the colonists (with their non-existent safety, environmental etc. controls) could extract much more cheaply back to Earth.
There were groans as the ship rotated. Their time viewing the rings was over. Next stop was the geysers of Enceladus.
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[…] week for the More Odds Than Ends prompt challenge I got the following challenge from AC Young: Time travel is dangerous. If you […]
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I ended up doing a 50-word story for this one.
https://ornerydragon.com/2024/05/20/time-is-relative/
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Fiona Grey lit up the sky with…
The farmer’s market was the best place to hire an assassin for several reasons.
[oh, my, here come the assassins! Let’s see…]
Harold decided to start looking for an assassin at the farmer’s market. Who knew, maybe he could get an organic one? After all, all those chemicals and fertilizers and stuff couldn’t be good for assassins, could it?
Of course, once he got there and started looking around, he realized he didn’t really know how to find an assassin. You couldn’t very well ask the fellow selling corn if he knew where to find an assassin, could you? Or that guy with the piglets? No, it wasn’t as if anyone was advertising that they did assassinations on the side.
So he slurped a soft ice cream cone and wandered around, looking at the vegetables and other items being offered. How did you find an assassin when you needed one?
As he sweated in the heat, he pondered. Well, did he really need an assassin? After all, if these people could raise all these crops by themselves, why couldn’t he do the job himself? All he really needed…
That’s when he found the blacksmith’s corner of the market, with a spread of tools. And right there was the perfect tool, a sickle intended for cutting grass, hay, grain, but just right for chopping necks. And the price was right, too!
So he bought the curving blade, and smiled. Maybe he didn’t know how to find an assassin at the farmer’s market, but he certainly found what he needed for the assissination. Now, all he needed was to lay out the plan and work out an alibi…
[hum, that’s kind of weird…]
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[…] ***Well, I had an idea for Padre’s prompt that was slightly less morbid, but that was last week, and it escaped before I snatched it out of the air. Then again, my prompt to nother Mike about hiring assassins at the farmer’s market was also a little dark. Check it out (and more) over at MOTE! […]
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And now mine is up on my LiveJournal — the iOS interface doesn’t seem to want to copy and paste properly tonight. When I’m home and on the laptop, I’ll add the link. But my LJ is starshipcat
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Back home on my laptop. Link is https://starshipcat.livejournal.com/1531525.html
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Nother Mike dropped a lightning bolt on me with “There was blood on the scissors.”
A bit of a short one tonight. I originally thought it was going to be set in New Orleans, but Drak and Vinal are equally appropriate for this. Not much time to write, so we’ll stay with it being short.
“You won’t be able to do it. He is too powerful and too heavily protected.”
“I can and I will. I have an advantage.”
“It won’t work.”
“I think it will. I have engaged one of the most powerful black magic practitioners in the city. He has agreed to work the spell.”
“Is he willing to pay the price for that type of magic?”
“What price? The man will be entirely in our grasp.”
“How?”
“I know his barber. The man slipped up one day and got a little close to his ear when he was trimming his hair. There was blood on the scissors and I was able to snag a sample, along with some hair. My sorcerer assures me it will be enough. Drak will fall sick and die and Vinal will be unprotected.”
“I hope you’re right. The price you pay when that type of magic backlashes is horrific.”
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