The value of writing on a regular basis serves several purposes. First, it helps build good creative habits. It also helps address challenges, forcing the mind to deal with unusual ideas from external sources – helping us become more flexible. And finally, it offers an opportunity for feedback, whether a simple “like” or a specific item identified that works – or the opposite, an opportunity to grow and develop as we discover our own hurdles.
| Prompter | Prompt | Promptee |
| Leigh Kimmel | The mayor was hemming and hawing about how long cleanup would take. | nother Mike |
| nother Mike | Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow… | AC Young |
| Fiona Grey | It was peaceful, until the bachelor herd came through. | Leigh Kimmel |
| AC Young | It was a special tree. His father had planted it the day of his birth. | Padre |
| Parrish Baker | Every Thursday at exactly 3:17 PM, the old payphone on Maple Street would ring once – today, I finally answered it | Becky Jones |
| Padre | “The dollhouse contained a little surprise.” | Parrish Baker |
| Becky Jones | There was only one problem with the location that she could see… the river hadn’t been there yesterday. | Fiona Grey |
And here are your spares:
| One of the lesser-known magical properties of ginger was… |
| The fire rained down, bursting several rocks with heated blasts |
| The snowstorm brought a spate of malicious plowing. |
| “I said black and white, not charcoal!” |
| It seemed like a useless “superpower.” |
| someone was selling Invertebrate skeletons on Ebay… |
Hey, about those drones…what would others in the universe look and act like? Would they be friend or foe? Don’t forget, there’s always the header if you’re looking for visual inspiration.
Your extra challenge for the week: GARLIC.
News of the week: Still in the holiday mood? Wishing you didn’t have to go back to the day job and regular grind? Consider J.R. Handley’s open call for a second Santa Operator anthology — that’s Santa as a military operator, rather than phones or medical procedures — and bring home the holidays with a bang…literally.
Don’t forget, if you’ve got news to share, let us know! (Interested in adding your website, Substack, or what-have-you page to the blogroll? Let us know that, too!)
Images generated by Fiona Grey using Midjourney.
More Odds Than Ends 
Mine’s up: https://acyoungauthor.substack.com/p/let-it-snow
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Lovely.
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[…] week at MOTE I was drawn in by the header image. I had an image in my head, but it took some coaxing to put words […]
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my attempt for the week.
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I know someone who passionately hates winter, and I hope someday he can find that sense of peace you describe.
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https://urnasemper.substack.com/p/io-arranges-flowers
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Hey, y’all! See over on the right side, that link to a Blog Feed? It’s kind of a blank page right now, but… I thought we might put links to your blogs or whatever up there, if you don’t mind? I mean, several of you have been putting links to your postings up here, and I could just grab those and stick them over on that blank page, but I figure I should ask first. Opt-in, y’a know? So, if you want your blog, substack, LiveJournal, or whatever listed over on our blog feed page, let me know?
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You can put mine up: https://acyoungauthor.substack.com/
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You can link me …
https://urnasemper.substack.com
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You can link me …
https://urnasemper.substack.com
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A fifty word short for this week.
https://professorornery.substack.com/p/fifty-word-short
And go ahead and link my substack: https://professorornery.substack.com/
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oh, wicked! And a good chuckle, too!
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Leigh Kimmel prompted…
The mayor was hemming and hawing about how long cleanup would take.
[now what are we cleaning up? A forest fire, a storm of some kind, riots, maybe a celebration? All kinds of things take a cleanup. ]
The news conference was already a mess, with all the news people, cameras, and everything jammed into a tent set up near the emergency crews working frantically to save lives and try to figure out what to do with the Kaiju that had escaped from the experimental farm. Not quite Godzilla or the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow man, but still, monsters bred out of a combination of animal genes and human nightmares.
Then the mayor took the stage, and everyone seemed to be yelling questions. How long was it going to take?
The mayor hemmed and hawed, first yelling at them to stop interrupting, then starting into his stump speech about what a great benefit the experimental farm was to the economy of their township, bringing in scientists and tourists from around the world. When one of the reporters yelled, “But what about the breakout? How long will it take to get control again?” The mayor shook his head, and leaned over the edge of the stage.
“Look, you! Our emergency teams are doing everything they can, to get people out of the path of the Kaiju, and then to lure the Kaiju into traps. But no one can give you a firm timeline for how long those monsters will be wandering around before we get all of them under control again!”
Of course, that was when the five-headed crocodile stomped into the tent, with all six legs already splashed with blood.
The news conference turned into a real monster mash at that point…
[hum, that could be fun…]
[I suppose I could have the mayor hemming and hawing, while someone else… maybe the police chief, or the fire chief, or someone? Anyway, someone else happily tries to give real answers. With the mayor sniping and grumbling about it? Hum… ]
[yipes, it’s time! Okay, here comes the stampede of the deadline elephants…]
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[…] Check out more, over at MOTE! […]
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Mine is now up on my LiveJournal at https://starshipcat.livejournal.com/1657142.html.
I sure had fun with this. It’s the first complete story in the Tiwariverse I’ve managed to write. I really do need to go back and finish the others, once I get a bunch of other projects finished.
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Fun!
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This week, AC Young offered up “It was a special tree. His father had planted it the day of his birth.”
The fire burned low as the three men sat around it, slowly drifting towards sleep, but not yet. The wagon crew and the rest of the guards had their own fires, so only Drak, Vinal, and their hearth guest sat. It gave them a modicum of privacy which was good, considering.
“I don’t normally like magic users,” Drak commented. “I find them too consumed by their studies and too prone to give in to the dark. We almost lost Vinal to one a year ago.”
The man sitting across from the two of them nodded. “I know. I have seen it myself and know the dangers too well. One of the reasons that I guard my path so carefully. I have my own reminders of the dangers of straying from it.” He reached down and caressed the simple black staff that lay on the ground beside him.
Drak nodded and looked over at the man, allowing him to tell his tale. Though dressed simply in a brown robe that came to his knees and belted with a simple rope belt, the man gave off an aura of quiet competence and danger. He was medium height with slender shoulders, light brown hair and the tanned skin of someone who spent more time outdoors than in. Not the normal image of a magic worker.
“This is my cousin,” he said simply.
“It belonged to your cousin,” Vinal asked?
“No. It is my cousin,” the man replied. “Or what remains of him.”
Drak nodded.
“It came from his tree. It was a special tree. His father planted it on the day of his birth and its fate was tied to his. Or so it is believed among our people.”
“My cousin was like a brother to me. His mother was the next younger to mine and they were almost twins. My cousin and I were born almost the same day and grew up together, playing the same games, chasing the same village girls, and studying under our village shaman together. But he grew arrogant, believing he could handle deeper secrets and darker magics, until it twisted his soul. He sold the secret of summoning the shadows to some foreigner at which point I knew I had to act.”
“So I confronted him and slew him, then cut his tree down and burned it, all save one branch which I carved into this staff. For this they banished me, but I still walk my path. And I keep my cousin with me, serving and helping with my magic until the day he has served enough to atone for his deeds.”
Drak nodded. “I understand. My grandfather walks with me still, though not because he needs to atone. But I brought his head with me, all I could save from the sack of our village. May your cousin find rest someday soon.”
Vinal looked on in silence. His world was very different from that of the two outlanders, but he knew enough to respect them. There was power in the far reaches of the world that was beyond what he and his people understood. But it had saved his life enough times that he respected it.
Finally he spoke. “And you wish to travel with us for a time?”
“If I may,” responded the magic worker. “The spirits tell me that there is some service I can do here, so I follow.”
Vinal caught Drak’s eye and the outlander nodded in return. “Be welcome at our hearth. We leave at dawn tomorrow on a long road.”
The man nodded. “There are many interesting places in this world. I would see more of them before I die.”
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