Prompt: Josh — “It wasn’t every day he could leave his half-sister speechless.”
The moment Josh stepped through the front door, Sylphie was storming out from the kitchen.
“Where were you?” she demanded.
He froze in the entryway, hands clutching the strap of his backpack. “What do you mean?” he asked tremulously.
Sylphie scowled and crossed her arms. “Don’t play dumb. We were supposed to walk home from school together. Only you never showed. So where were you? That Travers kid giving you trouble again?”
Josh dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “No.”
“Are you sure? Because I will go over there and—”
“I was in detention,” he blurted.
Sylphie froze, blinking owlishly. “You?”
Josh scuffed his sneaker on the hardwood. “For rigging a bucket of molasses over the door of the boys bathroom…when Dustin Travers was ready to walk out.”
Sylphie’s mouth moved soundlessly, disbelief and something akin to pride flickering across her face. Josh felt the corners of his mouth twitch. It wasn’t every day he could leave his half-sister speechless.
If you have a prompt you’d like to see, just tell me the character and a brief sentence, and we’ll see what I come up with! ^_^
These prompts continue to be quite a challenge, but really fun too. Now we’re getting a glimpse into a character’s childhood.
Prompt: Sylphie (Elemental Magic books 5 and 6): “Mascara? What’s that?”
“Look what I swiped off my mom’s dresser.”
Sylphie took the proffered black stick from her classmate and hopped up onto the edge of the sink counter in the girls bathroom. “Mascara? What’s that?”
Heather gaped at her in stupefaction. “It’s makeup! To make your lashes look long and voluptuous.”
Sylphie arched a dubious brow. “Oh, this is the stuff that gives women raccoon eyes when they cry in movies.”
Heather snatched the tube of mascara back and uncapped it. “No, it’s supposed to be sexy.” She lifted the brush coated in black goop to her eyelashes, but then the bell for third period blared, and her hand jerked. Heather yelped as she hit her eye, which caused it to water and smear the dab of mascara that had painted her cheek.
Sylphie grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and quickly handed it to her. Yup, raccoon face.
Prompt: Andre — “Not that he cared. This was what he lived for.”
“You destroyed another company car.”
Andre turned to his partner. “The alchemist blew up the car.”
Emily scoffed. “You didn’t have to antagonize him.”
“One more nail in the coffin. You know how the agency prefers undeniable proof.”
“If the company refuses to issue you another vehicle, I am not bringing my own car on cases with you.” She started walking away, past the still-smoking scrap of metal that had once been a Buick. Hardly a model to weep over.
“And don’t even think about me riding on the back of your motorcycle,” she called over her shoulder.
Andre merely shrugged. The SPA could deny his claim. Not that he cared. Watching the handcuffed alchemist get shoved into the back of an agency van, he felt nothing but satisfaction. This was what he lived for.
Hello blog, it’s been a while. I know I’ve been woefully absent for the past year++…and if there is anyone who comes back to read this, then virtual cookies to you for being so loyal.
One way I thought I might get back into blogging is to start writing drabbles based on reader prompts. Hopefully it would be a neat way for people to request things they’d like to see with some of their favorite characters beyond the books, and a fun challenge for me.
Here’s one a lovely reader sent me:
Aileen — “She didn’t ordinarily do this kind of thing, but this was no ordinary day.”
“Are you done yet?”
“No. And stop asking; you’re changing the contours of your facial features.”
Aileen almost scowled, but remembered to bite it back at the last second. She didn’t normally do this kind of thing, but this was no ordinary day, not when an up-and-coming local artist wanted to theme his next collective project on environmentalism and the sea. Aileen just didn’t know why she had to be the inspiration for his current painting. Live, in person. For almost an hour now.
And the bubbling commentary from the peanut gallery in the aquarium nearby was not helping. Especially since she was the only one who could hear it.
“Lift your chin.”
“I wanna be in the painting!”
“Shut up,” she muttered.
The artist huffed. “Hold still!”