100 words about ... Magical Music
My dear partneress saliss was one of those who kindly answered my 11 questions and gave me a writing-prompt:
Write 100 words about ME!
The dirty water had ruined the upper part of the big index card, soaking the thick paper and smearing the letters. Some of it might have been an address and phone-number, but only one who already knew the words could have recognized them now.
Reluctantly, with a mixture of curiosity and shame at looking through somebody else's private notes, he started to read with the first line that was still of any use. Just to find a hint about the owner, of course.
... as the supernatural and real plane with songs. It is based on her natural musical talent, which manifests in a fine singing voice, the skill to play various instruments, e.g. flute and guitar, and the gift to compose her own melodies and lyrics.
She was unaware of the true effect of her talents, but it's unlikely that anyone has suffered from it so far or even noticed anything. By nature, this is a positive power that has to be channelled.
I sense great potential in her, and she has agreed to work with me to explore and practice her magic.
He reread the last few words with a confused frown, even squinting a bit, as if the water had reached and blurred that part, too. Then he huffed, laid that one aside and picked up another one. It got accidentally a little bit torn at the edge when the wet paper gave way, but it's content sounded quite similar. And the next one and the one after that. Someone who shaped unbreakable pottery, unless it got in contact with salt-water. A shape-changing actor in need of surveillance, because here existed a danger of abuse. Another musician, but that index-card seemed a lot older than the others. It was of a slightly smaller size, the paper yellow and rough.
He wearily eyed the stack of still unread cards and told himself that there probably wasn't any hint on the owner of the weathered leather-bag on any of them. He didn't want to read the rest. Why had he picked up the sodden bundle anyway? It's owner probably had returned by now to the spot where it had lain in a puddle between the railway and the road.
Well, those are obviously more than 100 words, but those that are directly about my friend are the ones in the middle paragraph :)
I had this idea a while ago and maybe it will one day turn into a story.
This was cross-posted in my writing-only blog.
Write 100 words about ME!
The dirty water had ruined the upper part of the big index card, soaking the thick paper and smearing the letters. Some of it might have been an address and phone-number, but only one who already knew the words could have recognized them now.
Reluctantly, with a mixture of curiosity and shame at looking through somebody else's private notes, he started to read with the first line that was still of any use. Just to find a hint about the owner, of course.
... as the supernatural and real plane with songs. It is based on her natural musical talent, which manifests in a fine singing voice, the skill to play various instruments, e.g. flute and guitar, and the gift to compose her own melodies and lyrics.
She was unaware of the true effect of her talents, but it's unlikely that anyone has suffered from it so far or even noticed anything. By nature, this is a positive power that has to be channelled.
I sense great potential in her, and she has agreed to work with me to explore and practice her magic.
He reread the last few words with a confused frown, even squinting a bit, as if the water had reached and blurred that part, too. Then he huffed, laid that one aside and picked up another one. It got accidentally a little bit torn at the edge when the wet paper gave way, but it's content sounded quite similar. And the next one and the one after that. Someone who shaped unbreakable pottery, unless it got in contact with salt-water. A shape-changing actor in need of surveillance, because here existed a danger of abuse. Another musician, but that index-card seemed a lot older than the others. It was of a slightly smaller size, the paper yellow and rough.
He wearily eyed the stack of still unread cards and told himself that there probably wasn't any hint on the owner of the weathered leather-bag on any of them. He didn't want to read the rest. Why had he picked up the sodden bundle anyway? It's owner probably had returned by now to the spot where it had lain in a puddle between the railway and the road.
Well, those are obviously more than 100 words, but those that are directly about my friend are the ones in the middle paragraph :)
I had this idea a while ago and maybe it will one day turn into a story.
This was cross-posted in my writing-only blog.