A dozen pardons for the missed week. A turned-in dissertation means it ought not to happen again.
If an extra week again means more new voices popping in to write for these challenges, these picture prompts, well…
But no, we'll keep uploading them weekly and as every week before, I thank you for letting these prompts challenge you.
If you've nothing you want to write this week, how about telling me how you are? A line, a paragraph…say hi. Let me know you're here.
Riffing on Kindness
And direclty on to what people wrote for broken by kindness:
‘I’m sick,’ Cal said.
‘I’ve already had it,’ said the big man. ‘You shouldn’t be out here in the cold.’
‘Nobody wants me,’ said Cal, and wheezed again. ‘I’m not safe.’
The big man didn’t ask why, so Cal didn’t have to tell him about the shouting at home…
‘Come on. Let me take you somewhere warm.’
Cal peered over Adam Lindsay Gordon’s arms to the big man. His eyes had adjusted to the gloom and dear god, the man was huge. Like a bear. Like a statue come to life. His eyes seemed kind…
The webs were rainbow colored; shimmering blues and pinks and purples. Gold that waxed into red that waned into green. And they weren’t the dainty little spiderwebs that Kel was used to – spun by the spiders that always seemed to find their way onto space-faring ships. Be it commercial transports or a smuggler’s hulking relic, there were always spiders on board, somewhere. Those webs were fine and clung to the high corners of the ships, gathering space dust. These webs though? These were substantial. 2 millimeters in diameter, easy. You could knit these webs into a pair of socks. She was certain her grandmother would have given it a try.
“Jake. My name’s Jake.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Jake.” Cora said, tempering her grin into a softer, warmer smile.
“Pleasure’s mine, Cora,” he said, and with a slight bob of his head at them both, he went back to his lunch.
“Another convert, looks like,” Lucas said, bending to whisper it into Cora’s ear, then laughing and dodging as she swatted at his shoulder. He picked up the box and headed to the storage room.
“Not broken by kindness,” she murmured to herself, “but maybe, one day, rebuilt.”
As she tried to make sense of it, the flickering lights matching up with the pounding in her head, Sarah realised it wasn’t in her head at all. Wherever that deep, resonating sound was coming from, it wasn’t her body. Something outside of her, something connected to the lights.
It was music. Identifying it was too hard, far more than her brain could handle, but she held onto that single word.
Music. She was somewhere with music…
rose tinted glasses, queerness, the long slow hard fought climb toward acceptance, found family, belonging
“Do you know why I like you?” Niamh asked as the waves pushed her a little further up the sandy beach, her body rolling with the flotsam as the high tide line drew nearer.
Alison laughed. “Because I’m the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen?”
She was sitting on a rock, one foot resting on the seat of her wheelchair to keep it from drifting off the path. One day they’d buy a beach chair, when they could afford it, when the check from her album finally cleared.
“Beautiful AND modest!” Niamh replied. Her sharp teeth glittered like mother-of-pearl when she chuckled.