Flangiprop

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Flangiprop!.”

Hope Cahill was facing the biggest predicament of her life. On the world’s biggest scavenger hunt, she’d been chased by the Japanese Yakuza, been buried alive in a cave in Korea, and had been poisoned, but nothing had made her feel as desperate as she felt at this moment.

Smile. Because It Happened.

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
― Dr. Seuss

Both her feet used to fit on a single gray tile. The ceilings looked imposing and felt untouchable. The chairs were too big for her small frame, and the tables felt too high for comfort. Sometimes agoraphobia kicked in when she was alone in the rooms. The lights sometimes hurt her eyes. The sheer number of stairs on the way to the roof made her legs ache every time she climbed them to get lunch.

Hate-Mail Blues

I was going through the guest reviews on the latest story I put up on fanfiction.net. The review at the very top, started off with raw jagged negatives.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Something crashed onto the bed, jerking Ella awake.

She opened her eyes, pressing them shut again at once. Someone had moved the curtains in the window, letting in morning sunlight. She felt something move next to her on her small bed. She sheltered her eyes from the light with a hand and pushed herself off of the lying position. She was amazed, and slightly scared to find a girl on the bed next to her.

The girl was dressed in the most peculiar fashion. Her clothes looked like the attire of men. She wore two grease stained gloves, which Ella could only see because the other girl was struggling to release herself from the ropes that held them behind her back. Her light brown hair was pulled into a messy tail and grease stains covered her face as well.

“What is the meaning of this, Adri?” she screeched.