#SwiftFicFriday – Week 60 Prompt

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 60 Prompt

Welcome to the new and improved flash fiction writing prompt series – #SwiftFicFriday!

I’ve changed the rules, so if you didn’t see my tweet, check them out!

Rules to keep in mind:

  •  You have THREE DAYS (8:00AM Friday-8:00PM Sunday on the east coast) to submit your entry.
  • Include social media links/handles/anything you want to promote (Twitter, FB, etc) & word count in the comment with your submission.
  • Submission must be between 150-300 words.
  • All stories are property of the authors.
  • Winner will be determined via reader votes on Mondays.

Ready, set, write!

Prompt: Garden Library! Do what you want with it!

Happy writing!

6 thoughts on “#SwiftFicFriday – Week 60 Prompt

  1. Kendra took a few moments to explore Doriana’s house without Phinn around. She stepped into a room that appeared to be a sunroom with the exception of the shelves making new and intriguing corridors beneath the glass roof. The floor was uneven cobbles stones, but despite that, the shelves stood straight and sturdy.

    Hanging plants dangled from the rafters, falling in cascades of leaves and vines down the shelves between herbology and herpetology, photography and photosynthesis, and astrology and astrophysics. Kendra trailed her fingers over the spines as she read the titles, impressed with the range in the library as well as the depth of the subjects gathered. Doriana had a large collection on scrying and spell casting for health reasons, as well as a few children’s books stuffed in amongst the practical application of First Aid.

    “Find anything good to read?” Phinn’s deep voice ricocheted off the orderly lines of books.

    Kendra threw a smile over her shoulder. “Maybe a few things. I could spend days in here.”

    Phinn nodded. “Yeah, I used to do that a lot.”

    She blinked. “What?”

    “I used to come in here and spend days reading the books on strategy, mapping, and physics. It was a great way to escape.”

    “What were you trying to escape?” She turned to face him, taking in his powerful form. Why would he need to?

    “At first, it was my brothers’ teasing. I was rather scrawny when a child.” He chuckled at her jaw dropping. “Later it was a good way to keep the grief of my father’s disappearance at bay. I learned how to swing a sword and shoot arrows from books rather than from my father’s guidance.”

    “Oh, Phinn, I’m sorry.”

    He shrugged. “I’m not. Knowing the mechanics makes me a much better archer.”

    298 #CloudburstColorado words

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The Kiwi Library, by Joseph P. Garland, @JPGarlandAuthor, 271 words

    “Do you think you’ll ever be able to go home?”

    It was a question I asked myself several times a day. I still had no answer. I arrived last Christmas to begin a six-month post-doctorate project on South Pacific fauna. Once I was settled into Wellington I would island hop before heading back to Stanford in early July.

    Now, nearly a year later, I’d managed to visit only three or four other islands before being locked down at the university housing before being freed from intra-island restrictions. Fortunately, the university here permitted me to stay gratis and there was more than enough within one hundred kilometers of campus to keep me doing research.

    I spoke to my fiancée regularly, she in her lonely apartment in Palo Alto.

    It was hard, but it allowed me to appreciate my freedom and I used it to explore.

    “Do you think you’ll ever be able to go home?” It was asked of me this time by a student who frequented, as did I, a small library about two blocks from campus. It was quite unusual in my experience but was something that I came to expect the Kiwis to build, with the vines of the hanging plants dispersed throughout sagging between the stacks and its stone, and I imagined cold, floor.

    The library was of a scale that allowed me to browse among subjects I knew were somewhere in the vastness of Stanford’s library but never had occasion to visit.

    Now, ensnared by a row of books on Monet, the answer to the girl’s question came to me.

    “I don’t know if I want to.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jinx and Vedania landed in a deep fluffy snowbank overlooking a magical aurora of Christmas lights. The girl sank much deeper than the green haired cupid, whose little wings were surprisingly effective.

    “Oh, there you are!” Emathyst reached down to help Jinx free of the snow.

    The purple haired executioner frightened Jinx when they first met, but now her presence was comforting. Emathyst’s partner, Brewer, still looked scary but he was a good friend. Jinx had never had so many friends in her life. The three bright colored women particularly fit with the lights of the town.

    “Is Santa really going to help find my mom?”

    Jinx shivered with excitement. And cold. The snow was soft and dry, but she wasn’t dressed for it. Emathyst set the girl and her cat on Bluebelle’s warm hip, where the druidess held her with one arm while Blackie circled up to a shoulder perch.

    “I’m sure he will. But first, let’s get you warmed up.”

    Bluebelle led their way to a towering greenhouse radiating soft white light from frosted windows. She set Jinx inside a sudden transition from winter to spring. Floor to sloped ceiling shelves of books, draped with the expected greenery, formed long narrow aisles through the expansive structure.

    “Good timing!” A cute voice called from deeper inside. “I’m just about done with this batch!”

    Emathyst exchanged a glance with Bluebelle and Vedania before dashing over the cobbled stone floor to a craft table where a human sized beautiful brown bunny was painting toys.

    “Oaklie!” Emathyst laughed excitedly.


    The bunny sprang with equal excitement over the table into the executioner’s waiting arms.

    “What are you doing here?”

    After Emathyst set her down, Oaklie thumped her chest importantly.

    “Representing the Big Bunny in a talent exchange with the Big Man!”

    299 Four Sisters AU words

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “You need to go sit in your room,” she said those words as I came home from work, looking like I’d been forced to drag a truck a couple of miles. It wasn’t uncommon for her to say those words to me. “Go sit in your room.”

    It was a sunroom. In the summer, there was sunlight in that room until well past 8 at night. A sun room, full of bookcases, and plants, with a power plug on the wall next to the rest of the house, so I could plug in a laptop computer, and play.

    No heat. No air conditioning. If it was 90 outside, it was over 100 inside. Funny thing about that. The heat didn’t really bother me, as long as I had something to drink.

    When she told me to go to my room, I didn’t argue. We both knew I was like a big houseplant, and needed sunlight to stay healthy. If I didn’t get enough, I got cranky, and fussy, and angry, and damn near everything else you can get that makes other people miserable. My doctors said it was Seasonal Affective Disorder, and it was common for people to have it. They suggested things like sunglasses, and sunlamps.

    She’d looked at me, “You’re like a houseplant, I have to keep you in the sun, and water you.”

    She’d had the room tacked on the house. A stupid expense, a number that still blew my mind any time I thought about it. “But, it’s worth it. I sit you out there, and you get better, you know.”

    You can’t argue with the truth, you know. No matter how stupid it is.

    279 Words

    Liked by 1 person

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