It was a Thursday.
On Thursdays, Prysanthemum the Pug went to the baths from two to four o’clock. That made for prime adventuring time for his Doghouse, Dot. Glory, honour, excitement, fortune, and renown lay just over the horizon!
But first, Dot had to overcome one minor obstacle: voluntary movement.
Once upon a time, the beautiful princess journeyed to the Moon.
It was cold there. Not even the Moon Badgers were warm.
Even after the princess skinned three Moon Badgers and made a coat, she was still cold. So she set her spaceship on fire, and everyone was warm together.
They shared everything together. Every scrap of bread; every whispered word; every somber smile. They were a community: they shared a goal, a common end. After all, the only thing worse than awaiting death was awaiting it alone.
On sad days, their numbers shrank; on sadder days, their numbers grew.
The title for this story was suggested by Ragepyro.
A chill wind was in the air, and fell beasts were on the prowl.
Or maybe they were fallen beasts. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two.
One of the beasts fell out of the sky, landing on a beast that had previously fallen.
Ah, who needs this?
“Stand away, American!”
“If my intentions were hostile,” growled the warrior, “your staff would not avail you, Wizard.”
“My kind must be careful,” said Sir McDonald. “In your land, I might wake up a slave.”
Abraham Lincoln gripped his sword. “That is why my country goes to war with itself.”
Historical fantasy is weird. But you should check out the Alvin Maker series by Orson Scott Card if you like that kind of thing.
Kittens! Kittens everywhere!
It was terrifying. Mortifying. A nightmare.
She stifled a scream. Then she stifled a yawn.
The warm, cuddly kitten bodies, like a soft, purring blanket, lulled her, despite her best efforts, off to sleep. And as she slept, she dreamed about the tigers that ate her mom.
It was comfortable in his bed, so he decided to stay there.
It was still comfortable the next day, because it was so soft.
It was still comfortable the next week, because it was so warm.
It was still comfortable the next month, because he couldn’t feel anything at all.
Crankfurt the Crocodile was a very good wallower. Sometimes he wallowed in the mud. Sometimes he wallowed in the swamp. Sometimes he even wallowed in the dust.
At the Mammal Wallowing Championships, Crankfurt was disqualified because of his decidedly non-mammalian crocodility. That was where he learned to wallow in despair.
Mandy gasped in delight. “It’s like I always dreamed! But how did you…?”
Travis grinned. “Let’s just say I owe the zookeeper a very complicated favor! Care for a ride?”
Mandy blushed. “I’d love one.”
By sunset’s glow, he drove the duck-drawn carriage down the meandering path to her heart.
This story was based on a prompt from @awesomejeka.
The kayak rolled with the swelling of the ocean. Its lifeless occupant had stories to tell; the forensics officer in the nearby boat was certain of that.
An eruption of bubbles at the rear of the boat wasn’t a loud enough warning to prevent him from becoming the second victim.
This story was based on a prompt from @brucerytel.