Friday, April 4, 2014

Midnight blinds

Sorry, late posting this morning, I know :) Pesky ribs are still trying to pull away from my spine and sleeping last night was... difficult.

Since last week, all the ornamental cherry trees in Vancouver have burst into bloom, and are already dropping their petals in small, pink flurries.

Here's the line for this morning :)

Around midnight, I creep to the window and peek through the blinds.


  1. what'd you think of my blog? this one has possibilites so see how my time is today

    1. Which blog? Your sassy speaks one, or your author one? I caught up this morning on your SS blog since I've been almost completely offline these past 2 weeks with the flu and my pesky ribs.

  2. Shall finish up an idea during lunch; I suspect it will be too long for the prompt though :)

    1. Well, if it's a little over, post away... if it's 3,000 words, just post the first part and a link to the rest of it on your blog :)

    2. Managed to hack it down to 500; will probably do a sequel/extended bit set the next morning sometime tomorrow. Or tonight. Not sure; finishing up another story atm.

    3. Awesome! I'm going to read what you posted, then hop over to your blog to catch up :D

  3. wow I am first!!

    An observation

    Around midnight, I creep to the window and peek through the blinds open, allowing the sunlight to stream in. I was so far north that night never fell at this time of year. Below me people bustled along the street going about their business as if shopping and dining out at midnight was normal

    42 words and 12 for the prompt = 54

    1. You win!!!

      (I guess?)

      Nicely done, and wow! only 42 words! That really takes some tight writing and ruthless editing. Nice twist, sunlight at midnight ;)

    2. Hah! That is a very good one :)

  4. “‘If you ask me why I did it, I can only say it was because of the devilled ham.’ That’s what told the police.”

    “It was enough,” Dyer says tightly, thin fingers wrapped about his cup of coffee.

    “You caused a dozen people to faint and six more to run away while screaming obscenties at the meat counter. I said: ‘We could use some granola bars,’” I snarled. “Not: ‘And while you’re at it, let’s blow what little budget HQ gives us in getting you out of prison.’ We’re lucky CASPER gives us enough for food and gas and you went and – what did you do?”

    Dyer blinks. “You’re just asking me now?”

    “You bribe and intimidate an entire backwoods poilice department and see what kind of mood you’re in,” I say. The snarl hasn’t gone away.

    He flinches, the ghost who is as solid as anyone real, and looks so frail and weak – as he did upon dying – that I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t. I glare at him, resisting the urge to let the god inside me come out to play.

    “Charlie, I – it wasn’t blasphemy. Quite the opposite.”

    I glare him into more words.

    “I spoke high Enochian. It has to be spoken, and there was a foulness – a spirit – inside the ham. Something that used the name as a way to enter it, and from it would enter people. Infect them. Maybe even kill them, if they were very lucky.”

    “You’re telling me some kind of ghost made a plague?”

    “I don’t know.” He slumps into the seat at the Tim Horton’s. “Not only humans make spirits. It could even be something from Outside that found a way into the grey lands. I banished it.”

    “And you had to scream the words in the middle of a grocery store?”

    “I banished it all over the world. So yes,” he says, raising his chin to glare back at me.

    I blink. Sit back. I don’t know much about enochian, only that it’s hard to learn and can let people do exorcisms of staggering power. I eat gods; Dyer eats ghosts. Using enochian, we can both do far more than just eat a few gods in an area or destroy a handful of ghosts. He’s never offered speifics. I hadn’t thought to ask.

    “Let me get this right. You did an exorcism that effected every instance of that being on the entire planet – using six words in enochian – and the best lie you could tel the police was ‘the devilled ham made me do it’.”

    “That’s not what I said; I told them as much as the truth as my Oath to CASPER allows.”

    “The truth.”

    “You don’t like to the police,” he says simply.

    Some days I forget he’s been dead a hundred years. Other days I wonder how Dyer survived this long. I’m almost certain some of him is an act, but I never know how much. I drink my coffee and let the matter drop.

    1. OH MY GOODNESS!!!

      CASPER? A spirit in the devilled ham? Six words in enochian?

      Alcar, even if you posted this under another name, everyone would know this is one of yours...

      freaking hilarious!