Perspective is a difficult thing to grasp. Just when you think you’ve gotten it, it slips away again with a little wriggle and there you are, up to your elbows in something you can’t quite see. Sometimes you need something to pull you away far enough to put it all in perspective by the gift of distance. Sometimes, you need to step outside your own head for a moment and look clearly at what you are trying to do, before you can get a handle on it.
| Origin | Router | Destination |
| Fiona Grey | “As if any of us remember what really happened.” | Padre |
| AC Young | The museum in Aphrodite on Venus contained a rare copy of the Wedgwood jasperware Venus Vase, produced to commemorate the founding of the first Venusian colony. | Fiona Grey |
| Becky Jones | The fountain burbled merrily along, oblivious to the chaos surrounding it. | Leigh Kimmel |
| Leigh Kimmel | The forecast was for clear weather. Our first warning of the storm was a flash of lightning and thunder so loud it sounded more like canvas ripping. | AC Young |
| Padre | Unexpected date night | Becky Jones |
| nother Mike | The waterfall rippled over the mountainside, a glittering chain of light across the stones. | nother Mike |
If you didn’t send in a prompt challenge, never fear, spares are always here. In an uncertain world, a constant and ever-changing piquance for the brain.
| Spare | Her glance caught his gaze but for a moment, but she knew… |
| Spare | The salon that catered to frogs was surprisingly popular. |
| Spare | Each year, on a random day in June… |
| Spare | He hesitated, then clicked send. |
| Spare | The Bank Heist failed because the getaway car broke down. |
Come back and share your efforts in the comments. A link to the blog or substack, a full snippet into the box, however you like to do it. And don’t forget to take a moment this week to look at your perspective.
More Odds Than Ends 
A change of practice this week. I recently set up a substack, so I’ve put this week’s response on there: https://acyoungauthor.substack.com/p/hiking-up-rinose.
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Congrats on the substack!
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Thanks.
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I need to set up substack.
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If you are self-hosted WordPress, you can download an xml of your posts and upload them right to Substack, it’s slick and easy to my surprise.
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One issue I have with Substack is that if I open something to read and leave it, I have to re-load it as it self-descends to some annoying generic intro page. A small thing, yes, but an irritation all the same. I am sure it’s a “feature.”
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nother Mike sent this message to the router…
The waterfall rippled over the mountainside, a glittering chain of light across the stones.
And I got it back! Must have been a mistake in addressing…
[Ho, ho… Let’s try…]
When they started hiking that morning, they didn’t expect what they would encounter later that day.
At first, it seemed like an ordinary trail beside the creek that burbled and chuckled down the mountain. The trees grew tall, shading the undergrowth. There were bushes and ferns, and occasional scurrying sounds as animals hid from them.
Then, they turned a corner, past a towering outcrop, and found a small pond, with crashing sounds. The creek flowed out of it, but behind the pond!
The waterfall rippled over the mountainside, a glittering chain of light across the stones.
Where it leaped off the stones and fell into the pond, it crashed into the water and bubbled back up. That was what filled the spot with sound.
They looked at the beauty, then smiled at each other. Without words, they took off their backpacks and set them at the foot of nearby trees, then knelt at the edge of the pond and splashed the cool water on sweaty necks, faces, arms, and legs. It was strange, taking a break without talking, but that crashing background made it impossible to talk.
After a while, the leader looked around at them, sitting or laying on the ground. Then he waved his arm. Several others nodded, and slowly got up and picked up their backpacks.
Soon, they were all gathered, ready to leave. They took a last look around, admiring the waterfalls, and checking that the grounds were as clean as when they arrived.
Then they set off again, but this time without the creek by the trail. Somehow, not having that bubbling cheerful companion made the trail seem a bit more rugged as they walked along.
After a bit, and several twists of the trial around the rocks, the roar of the waterfall finally quieted. They could talk again! They laughed and chattered as they hiked up the trail.
Then they turned another corner and found it waiting on the path ahead of them.
[I think I’ll stop there, and think about what might be waiting for them on the trial ahead… hahaha!]
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[…] This week’s MOTE challenge was delivered to me by Padre: An unexpected date night. If you need a brief distraction from your daily stresses, head on over to MOTE and pay a visit to different worlds. […]
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And now mine is up on my LiveJournal at https://starshipcat.livejournal.com/1538926.html
It’s not what I was trying to get, but at least it’s something I can work with. Maybe I can eventually get something workable out of it. I just feel like, if I’m presenting a collection as a sampler of my ‘verses, it should be balanced, rather than having over half the stories representing one ‘verse, while several others have only two or three stories that look very much like afterthoughts.
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I’m unfinished this week, because I was wrapping up a draft submission for an anthology. My typing skills have deteriorated to where I’m done for the evening! I think something might be waiting in that vase on Venus, though…a secret, hidden and waiting for just the right conditions, or the right person to visit the museum…
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I’m a little short on electricity tonight, but I got a short, creepy little piece out of this.
This week, Fiona Grey hit me with “As if any of us remember what really happened.”
It was dark. The aftereffects reverberated through the room after the spell went off. The mind wipe spell worked perfectly. Except for on Bridget for some reason. Something in her power make-up caused it to fail only on her. And now, she remembered everything.
They had found the book in the library. Black and covered with symbols that hurt the eye as they subtly squirmed about the page, the pages were worn and yellowed with age. And inked with the rust-brown that could only come from dried human blood. It was probably not supposed to be in that section, where the apprentice spellcasters could get their hands on it and study it.
They should have turned it into their instructors immediately. But then Alfred started to skim it and… Found something fascinating. Something that called to him, something that drew not just him, but all of them deeper.
Each experiment cost more. Each practiced and learned spell drew them further down a dark path. And, then… just before they were going to go to far, they pulled back. Alfred recognized the danger and called the group together. They cast a forgetfulness ritual with the book as a focus and they all forgot the spells and the sweet temptations of dark power that they had been playing with. All except Bridget.
Alfred looked around the room. “I don’t remember will, but I think we are better this way. As, if any of us remembered what really happened here, it could have been disastrous.”
Bridget nodded carefully. She remembered. But it would be ok. As long as no one else remembered or ever found out. The darkness whispered to her. And it would not be denied…
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