This week, I’m combining the Write on Edge and Trifecta Writing prompts. Click on the above pictures to take you to one or the other of the sites for this week’s linkup. Read some of the other submissions, or submit your own, or both. It’s always interesting to see the many and varied stories that come from the same prompt.
From Trifecta, the following word, whose third definition is to be used in a response between 33 and 333 words:
1: obsolete: EXPERT, SKILLED
2a: marked by skillful design <quaint with many a device in India ink — Herman Melville>
b: marked by beauty or elegance
3a : unusual or different in character or appearance : ODD
b : pleasingly or strikingly old-fashioned or unfamiliar <a quaint phrase>
From Write on Edge, we have a quote and a picture to use as inspiration, in any way we choose:
Sometimes legends make reality, and become more useful than the facts.”
~ Salman Rushdie
Shoulders hunched, eyes flitting from object to object, flinching from sudden movement, Jeremy couldn’t help but to slink down the city sidewalks.
The pedestrian sign flashed 30…29… System malfunction, opposite light turns green before walk flashed to hand, the screech of tires as a truck speeding down the street tried to stop, failed, the gasps of horror from onlookers, last thing I hear before the agony of impact. It could happen. He licked his lips and waited while others crossed.
A couple came up alongside him. Their dog sat wagging and grinning at her side. She caught him staring out of the corner of his eye and smiled. “He’s quite friendly, you can pet him if you’d like.”
Friendly dog, until I reach to pet him and he jumps up, teeth tearing at my face, hanging on, horrible horrible sensation of weight in his face, hot blood dripping down. It could happen. Jeremy rolled horrified eyes up to the woman’s, shuddered and jerked his head no.
A man walked towards him on the sidewalk, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his trenchcoat… pulls out the gun hidden there, I don’t give him my money fast enough, it’s not enough, and an explosion of pain blossoming from the center of my chest, it could happen. Jeremy plastered himself against the brick and flinched away.
Pidgeons… the plague.
Fire escape… stairs loose abruptly and collapse on top of me, bones crunching.
Jeremy escaped to the new terrors to be found in the grocery store, bought the food least likely to kill him.
“Hey buddy, wanna try our new granola bar?”
Sudden onset of peanut allergy, choking hazard, contamination, “No!”
The man hawking death-bars grinned. “Come on, buddy, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Eyes darting between deaths around him, Jeremy barked out a bitter laugh. “Your world seems so quaint.” He clutched his purchases tight and escaped, keeping an eye on the shelves that might crush him.
“And yours, so small!” the man replied.