Today’s prompt: “How your cat sees the world”
Those noisy people came in and hunted you like she hunts mice, broke your neck and bloodied you. Their black cloaks fluttered and would’ve been a good thing to snatch at with her claws were the people not so loud and stampy-stampy with their feet, so she hid and watched the end of the hunt.
Now who’s going to open her Fancy Feast cans?
Today’s prompt: “Describe the biggest earthquake you’ve ever heard about”
The quake that hit your hometown was 6.7 on the Richter scale, but that wasn’t what made it newsworthy. Sure, it toppled the steeple of the church four blocks from your house, and all of the shelves in the Albertsons fell over. Sure, the water main broke open at 14th and State and flooded several blocks. But that was nothing compared to the cause of the earthquake. That would have been Dhumin, the Burrower from the Bluff. You watched in shock as the massive Old One erupted from your back yard. It snaked its way though your house and into the street, devouring you and one of your dogs on the way, before terrorizing the rest of your neighborhood. I heard the National Guard got called. I’m pretty sure Dhumin would’ve made short work of them if he hadn’t already eaten his fill by then and tunnelled back underground. Anyway. 6.7. That’s really something.
Today’s prompt: “On becoming a tycoon”
The downside of becoming a tycoon is just how many people there are out there who are willing to murder you for all your worldly goods.
Today’s prompt: “Being chased by a killer”
Your lungs are on fire. A nearby branch scrapes your left forearm. Your feet pound through the cheatgrass.
A bullet whizzes past you. Five, you think.
You jump over a log. Splash through a creek. Careen between trees.
The gun fires again. The bullet hits a tree about a foot and a half to your left. Six. Hopefully he has a standard revolver.
Your foot snags on the underbrush. You recover. You propel yourself through bushes and tall grass.
A whirling knife comes to a stop in a tree two feet to your right. Okay, he’s out of ammo, but not out of weapons.
You duck beneath a low-hanging branch. Plunge into a small clearing. Charge back into the woods beyond.
A machete comes to a stop in an old oak tree just before you pass it. How many weapons does this guy have?
You swerve around the oak. Squeeze between two aspens. Your feet churn through dead leaves.
Clunk.
You fall to the forest floor as the empty revolver glances off the back of your head. You try to get up, but you hear footsteps striding up behind you.
He doesn’t need weapons to kill you.
Today’s prompt: “Tenth anniversary”
Your daughter came to the cemetery today, just like she has every year for the last ten years.
She didn’t say too much this time. The first year, she just cried. The next couple years, she’d talk about her favorite memories with you. “Remember when I asked you to play Barbies with me, and you gave Barbie and Ken a time-traveling monkey friend?” she would say. “Remember when you got me a puppy, and I was allergic, but I wouldn’t let you take him away from me?”
The next few years, she’d talk to you about how school was going. Eventually, she’d talk about how work was going. What her new boyfriend was like. You would have liked him, she’d say.
But today, she didn’t say much. It’s been ten years after all. She’s grown and changed, after all. But her memories of you are frozen in time. She didn’t get the chance to have a grown-up relationship with you.
She laid some flowers on your grave marker. “Hey,” she said. “If there’s anything after this, I hope you’re doing good. If you can see me, I hope I make you proud.”
She’s doing all right. I just thought you’d like to know.
Today’s prompt: “A beginner’s guide to getting noticed”
With clanks and clatters, your ankle snaps against a trip wire tied to a few dozen pots and pans. Floodlights illuminate you. A dozen rifles take aim.
Today’s prompt: “You find your great-great-grandmother’s diary. On June 16, 1856, she wrote:”
“Dear Diary,
“The summoning rituals were a complete success. Richard and I held hands in a circle with 22 others from the church. Bernadette and Edie were there, and Sylvia and Mark Peters, and Muriel Jackson. The black priest painted a sigil on the ground in goat’s blood, and we lit candles and held hands and chanted. And then, you’d never believe it, Diary! A whirlwind filled the room. I was very glad I’d pinned my hair up tight. You should have seen Bernadette Wainwright’s hair, Diary. It was a wreck.
“The whirlwind was still building when we felt an earthquake. I lost my footing, but I’m proud to say I kept chanting the whole time. Richard and Sylvia helped me to my feet, just when a crack started spreading across the ground. The crack tore apart into a huge rift in the earth. It was impossible to tell how far down it went.
“The whirlwind snuffed out all the candles, and we were left chanting for a few moments in the dark, hoping the floor wouldn’t collapse beneath us. But then the opposite happened. The whirlwind tore the roof off.
“The stars were shining even brighter than usual, Diary. And one star, one of the stars in the little dipper – the star opposite the handle; Richard said its name is Pherkad – started throbbing with bright light. And as it throbbed, a green light started emanating from the rift. The green light got brighter and brighter, and throbbed along with the star.
“And then something that looked like a comet shot from the star and came straight toward us. It blew past us with a searing heat and buried itself in the rift.
“A small ball of fire raised itself out of the pit and hovered in the air. It was him. Yomagn’tho.
“The levitating fire grew into a large circle of fire surrounding three tongues of flame in the center. It grew and grew, and then finally, it feasted. I’m sure Muriel Jackson would have been insufferably proud that it chose her. If she could talk to us afterwards, you know she would have been lording it over us.
“It was amazing, Diary, but far too brief. After dining on Muriel, the fiery creature was pulled back among the stars. It seemed so angry to have to leave.
“The black priest said Yomagn’tho almost certainly was angry. He is pure malevolence. He couldn’t stay here yet. But our spell is one that is cyclical and builds in strength with each cycle. We have established a pathway for Yomagn’tho, one he can return on every 82 years. And each time he’ll eat more and become more powerful. This time, he only ate Muriel, but next time, he’ll probably eat an entire city block, and when he returns in the spring of 2020, he should be powerful enough to devour an entire city.
“If only I’d be there to see it, Diary.”
So, that explains what’s outside your window right now.