Prompted: Return of the Prompts
Prompt: “There are consequences to cutting off your wings.” Created by Lydia Jane. Originally used in the Fairy-Themed Prompt Contest.
The sun turned toward us, blazing without restraint. But blustering winds looked upon us with favor, eager to aid our mad escape from this palatial prison.
No need for bars or guards on the island; prisoner and captor coexisted in an illusion. Ever civil, thoroughly false.
I hadn’t outlived my usefulness, but exceeded it. There would be a cost. Assurances protecting my pride and joy were no longer bastions against our king’s capricious nature.
No comfort could lull us back into placid incarceration. Not me, and certainly not my son.
I planned, and plotted, and squirreled away every resource, anything to bolster our chances. Candle nubs, kitchen scraps, unravelings. These would hold, for a time. That was all we needed. Time to fly.
We leapt into the ether, trusting cobbled-together constructs to give us flight, and they did. But my child, full of hope and drunk on aspirations, ignored my warnings. He flew too high. The wax securing his feathers softened, then failed. As he plummeted, I swooped, but my devices could not carry two, so I prepared to transfer them to his arms.
There are consequences to cutting off your wings, but how else could I live with myself?
Prompt 2
Prompt: “High chance of certain death? Sounds like my kind of romantic evening.” Created by Lydia Jane. Originally used in the Blade and Shadow Prompted Contest.
I met my date Amber at the door of her apartment. Dressed all in pink and wearing bows in her hair, with a rabbit peeking out of her oversized purse, she reminded me of my sister. Why had I let Chuck talk me into going out with her?
Since the fact that I’m a superhero was plastered all over the newspapers last week, I told Amber up front that going out with me could be detrimental to her health.
She grinned. “High chance of certain death? Sounds like my kind of romantic evening!”
I’m pretty sure my eyes almost bugged out of my head when she said that.
She patted my shoulder and headed for the elevators. “Didn’t Chuck tell you I’m Stingray’s daughter? I’m used to avoiding danger.”
“What?” I hurried to catch up with her. She was my archnemesis’s kid? Maybe I should back out now…?
“You heard me.” She stepped into the elevator. “Where were you thinking of taking me to eat? I’m starving!”
“Um.” I couldn’t remember where I’d planned to take her.
“How about Roses are Red? I love their pizza!”
“Me too.” One date couldn’t hurt.
The elevators dinged—revealing her dad.
Oh, crud.
Prompt 3
Prompt: “I don’t care what you hear; never trust the Raven.” Created by Lydia Jane. Originally used in the Harvest Folklore Prompted Contest.
“I don’t care what you hear. Never trust the raven.”
“Yes, Granny.” But her heart wasn’t in the reply. After all, she’d been talking to the raven for months, and nothing bad had happened.
But Granny wouldn’t understand. After all, the Raven had promised to teach her magic just as soon as she could figure out how to free him from his cage.
