Dream

Under most circumstances, when I wake up in the middle of the night and scribble out parts of a dream that I want to remember, I read over them in the morning and wonder to myself "what in the world is this?" This may be partially because my handwriting in the dark isn't all that great. In this particular case, I don't think the dream would make a very good book, but it might have some concepts that could be recycled for other purposes. That's what dreams are for, right?
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She could feel the ridges under her fingers, even after the goosebumps started to fade. It had been scary enough, seeing the Thing they had called on to guide them for their festival. It had only been right to interrupt and send it away. None of them had agreed. It was only Callo's intervention that had saved her from being trampled by the mob.

"Legal"

"Do you have a better idea?"
"Yeah. Why don't you just send him to the school nurse? He skipped the school physical."
"The school physical exam is optional. I can't make him submit to it if he doesn't want to."
"Why not?"
"Because that's not legal."
"Why?"
"Aren't you too old for that question?"
"No."

Still Night

The night tells secrets the day can only dream of. Without words, the scent of the cool pre-dawn breeze can paint an image in the mind's eye, coupling with the symphony of rustling leaves, giving birth to an entirely new entity that exists entirely in the thick, foggy consciousness that hovers between the waking and sleeping worlds. She lay in the darkness, her face bathed in the soft light from her open window. Strong, German features were dipped in shadow, the hollows of her eyes glimmering in the shade of her hooked nose. In the silver light, it was hard to tell what color her shirt was, let alone her hair or eyes. But those eyes, that should have been held shut by dead-bolted dreams and triple-locked fantasies, were open and staring. What she thought she saw was unclear, but she was staring directly into the face of a man that shouldn't have been there.

Invention

Today's piece is a little old. I'm working on digging into my writing habits and kick-starting this whole "writing a book" thing again. My last project fell through (there are salvageable bits, of course, but the narrative was wandering and a little forced) so I'm starting over and trying again. 
In the meantime, enjoy a visit with Jeremy and his not-cat.

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If only one could think things into existence. Wouldn't that be nice? Jeremy gazed forlornly at the prototype sitting on his desk, and knew it wasn't good enough. It didn't look nearly as nice as the one that he'd imagined. Of course, the one he'd imagined it a little bigger, and shinier.... Something heavy and spiky jumped into his lap and Jeremy bit his tongue as he almost yelled in surprise. Then he remembered that he'd let the cat into his room earlier. Obviously, the ridiculous creature must have been hiding under his bed for the last several hours. 

And it truly was a ridiculous creature now, neither male nor female, neither cat nor hedgehog, but something in between. The cat (he still thought of it as a cat, even if it technically wasn't one anymore) was called Hampton, and had pliable, hollow spikes from its shoulders to its haunches. There were a few on its head, but those were harder, and Hampton had taken to using them very efficiently to make its master pay more attention when it felt neglected. Which the creature now felt. Jeremy noted as his wrist started to bleed, courtesy of Hampton's earnest nudging.

Singing Hobbitling

Hey guys! This week, I'm doing something a little different. My two-word prompts have started to bore me (always a dangerous thing with a writer) so I've decided to share a couple random fanfiction snippets I've written for a friend recently. Let me know if you like them!
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The door, yawning before them like a great, dark mouth, seemed to Bilbo rather sinister in the failing light. He realized with a rather unpleasant start that the dwarves' eyes, shining in the dark, were all fixed on him. It was time (despite the lack of supper) for him to render the promised service. Swallowing in an attempt to banish the fear lodged in his throat, the little hobbit crept forward.

Poor Animal

This week's prompts are interesting, easy to work with, and fun. The subject is "Animal" and the theme is "poor." And I am most certainly NOT thinking of the Muppets. Nope. Not even a little bit. :)
I look forward to seeing what you guys come up with for this prompt - or hear your suggestions for what I might have done differently with mine.
Added bonus inspiration: "Lets all give a big hand for our recently deceased! Go on, spin the wheel, lets see what Fate has in store for you!"
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She could remember a face. Or at least the impression of one. Blue eyes, the color of faded denim. Sometimes. Sometimes they were other colors. Like grey. Old face. Wrinkles? She didn't know. Old. Tired. And it wasn't her face, but it was very important to her. A face she had looked at often. She opened her eyes, and was immediately struck by a wave of unexpected sound.

Voices, laughter, cheering, stamping, the hum of fans, the buzz of electric lines, the whine of mechanical equipment. Lights shone in her face, screening the rest of the world from view while a loud, cheerfully clipped voice blared in her ear.

Dream Racer

This week's subject is "Dream-catcher," and the theme is "Race." While the idea for this one is definitely easy for me, I think I'll add a little twist to the prompt by adding a stylistic challenge as well: write a conversation that is entirely silent, wherein the character communicate using body language, rather than words.
Inspiration for the stylistic challenge to The 3 AM Epiphany, "Body English." 
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Resistance.
No so much cold as chill, like a sheet of water.
Then he was through, into the warm dark on the other side.

This was like to be a nightmare, from the feel of it. He made a face, but began his work, soothing the fear, bringing little lights into being here and there, showing the darkness for that of night, not a prelude to captivity. When the dreamer brought footsteps, he added the cheerful chatter of excited voices, like those going to a game or a feast. The lights grew brighter.

He added smells. Warm dust. Aftershave. Barbecue.
The dreamer added more scents, some familiar, some indescribable. One was very distinct: horse.