> "You know... I'd disappear, if you asked me to.

> "I'm a servant, but I'm taking the crown."

> The Rebellion

> "H-how could you say that?"

> The air within the charred caverns churned, wavering in the extreme heat. The stale stench of Fire and burnt rock wafted through the boiling atmosphere, radiating an orange-red glow. A pair of electric blue eyes flew open with a start. Then six more.

> A treasured memory 

A treasured memory.

It sits on the desk, silent. A glass vial, round and plain with a cork stopper. An old label is tacked on, the ink smudged and almost unreadable. The memory sits inside. It’s a bright, friendly thing, shapeless and always moving, emanating a warm blueish light.

Behind the heavy wooden desk that the memory is resting on, there are shelves. Dozens of them, all lined up one after another. And they are all lined with memories, contained in vials of all shapes and sizes. Some of them are good, like the treasured one on the desk; others glow with an angry ruby light or a soft emerald one or an agitated topaz. They seemed to be organized in some way, but it’s impossible to tell. 

The light of them all mix together, swirling into an opalescent shine, and together they reflect every facet of life. 

From Hex's prompt!

If only.

If only the flame would've burned a little bit brighter.  If only the storm hadn't been so fierce, so ravenous.  If only the merrow would have stayed below instead of rising above the churning waves and sounding their haunting melody.  If only Merra's father had been there.

But it hadn't, they didn't, he wasn't.  The ship's bow shattered against the knife-sharp cliff, thrown by the sheer power of the angry ocean.  By the time Merra ran out into the thunder and rain the sea below the lighthouse was filled with huge shards of wood.  She watched in horror as the remaining hull sank beneath the water, its full white sails waving like a flag of surrender.  She was too late.  The beautiful ship that had once soared the seas was gone and its crew had been dragged into the waves by the cruel children of the deep.  She stood on the edge of the cliff, rain hammering her skin and wind pulling her hair, until they too had sunk, their tails splashing without a care the same way they had the night her father dissapeared.

--

This is pretty short, but I like it so I might continue the story.

I have a very long list of prompts like this; some of my favorites are:

- She gave a little shiver as the wind flicked at her bare arms.

- The town was a particularly American nowhere

- He'd created a thirty-acre lake

- The city wasn't dead after dark, if you knew where to look

- She muttered in annoyance as the keys skid from her fingers.

-  She ducked into the doorway to get out of the line of fire.

And because I have a serious case of writer's block, I'm going to try out the second one. Sorry if it's too long!

The town was a particularly American nowhere. The kind of place where mosquitoes buzzed in the humid air, where diner's walls were wallpapered with pink and green stripes, where dreams were kindled and smothered in the same breath, where half the kids dropped out of college and the other half never went because all their money had gone towards escaping that muggy, dusty, dead-end nowhere where they'd grown up. 

They had no idea how lucky they were.

I sat on the edge of a small outcropping a mile away, watching the neon signs flicker faint shadows across the dusty scrub surrounding the town. My boots hit the rock in a steady one-two rhythm as I swung my legs. Thunk-thunk. Thunk-thunk. Wind fluttered the edges of my coat, tossing dust up into my eyes. I didn't even blink.

A crackle came from my two-way radio, then a voice. "Callsign: Indigo, this is Callsign: Oyster, do you read me? Over." 

Thunk-thunk. I pressed a finger to my ear to respond. "Callsign: Oyster, this is Callsign: Indigo. I read you. What's our plan? Over." Thunk-thunk.

A burst of static. "Leopard and Zinnia are out of the way; we prepped and ready for Zero hour. Over."

Thunk-thunk. "Copy that, captain. Waiting for directives. Over." 

The wind picked up, scattering more dust into the air as I stared out longingly towards the town. 

"Indigo, operation is a go. Zero hour in ten... Nine..."

It was the kind of town I'd dreamed about for a long time.

"Eight... Seven..."

But with a sigh, I stood up. 

"Six... Five..."

Because today wasn't a day for dreams.

"Four..."

It was a day for nightmares.

"Three..."

The town was a particularly American nowhere.

"Two..."

Which was why no one would even notice it was gone.

"One." 

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Here are some!

> What is home, anyways?

> I never meant to turn into a cat.

> Mom's secret power had to do with onions.

> It was storming the night I ran away.

> Water dripped from my chains--or maybe it was blood.

Enjoy! 

Prompts:

>You can't keep protecting him forever!

> A maniacal laugh rang through the silence. High, crazy. Broken.

> (Possibly to go with the above)

I suddenly understood why "mad" can also be "insane."

> Trees don't just sway. They wave.

> If you ask me, immortality is overrated. But nobody ever asks me.

I have so many ideas for each but I think I'll use the last.

If you ask me, immortality is overrated. But nobody ever asks me. Zeus could be singing in the about the ways in which Immortality-in-a-Bottle is a pure scam, and the whole world would fall silent to listen. Odin could be missing on the weather to himself and have a thousand cameras trained on him.

But me? I try to give a dire warning to all the stupid mortals running about, dreaming of living for ever and ever, and all I get is a sassy, "Oh, what do you know, you're barely a step above us anyway. Hmph! A minor god."

And they are right. I have hardly any power at all. But one of the "perks" of being divine is immortality, and I can tell you firsthand, it isn't all it's cracked up to be.

After a while, a god runs out of purpose. And purpose is the energy that powers all human beings. Mortals know there time is limited, and they spend as much of it as possible running to finish what they need to.

But for a god, when they say "I'll do it someday," they know there will always be a someday. And once a god has been a god for long enough, they learn that forever is forever. Eternal is eternal. And so they just... stop. They go through the motions with no special force driving them except a bit of everyday divine magic. Life becomes like a beach. Every day is another grain of sand, and though maybe it seems beautiful from the outside, one can only look at every grain individually before they figure out that sand is sand.

If you were to ask me, this is what I'd say. But nobody ever asks me.

Anyway, I hope that was alright. I would love feedback from anyone. Anybody can use these prompts. Bye!

> It wasn't fair. No, it wasn't fair at all. They weren't supposed to have died like that.

> Castle of eggshells

> A reversal of fortune

> Everything seemed to screech to a crawl in that instant. The bubbles stilled, the drips of red slowed to a dribble, and then stopped completely. _____'s shriek faded to a dull ring in the back of my head, and I was filled with an inexplicable chill. Rosa just laughed. 

More prompts to hopefully keep this thread going!

> Green means life, yes. But... to me, green had always brought to mind sickness. Death.

> Or, alternatively, instead of sickness and death in the above, you can say jealousy.

> "You have to come with me."

"What?"

"Now."

"Why!?"

"You were right. The sky will fall today. But not on us. We can be above the clouds when that happens."

> I'm thinking the above as a metaphor, but I suppose it would work with a literal meaning as well.

> Her face was drawn in confusion. Panic. But what hurt most of all - distrust.

And now for a story, inspired by one of Neverseen's prompts:

"We can't trust her."

"She's been our most loyal agent for fourteen years. She's been part of this since she was twelve!" I couldn't believe this was happening. I knew it looked bad, but it wasn't her. It couldn't be her.

"Well, whatever happened to her on the front lines-" Commander shakes their head. "She's changed."

"We've all changed! I would still vouch for her completely as our most reliable and capable agent." I would do anything to save her. Almost anything.

"Agent Rose, I know she is your friend as well as your associate," More than a friend. She could have been so much more than a friend. I shake my head. I am not about to start thinking about her in the past tense. All of this is my fault, I chose the person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, I never imagined-

"But!" Commander's voice cuts through my panic. "In a world of chaos and lies, you can never fully trust any one person." Their voice softens. "I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do."

In that moment, I know. There is something I could do. Something that would doom everything I have worked for, everything my superiors at home sent me here for. But it would save her. I would endanger everything to save her.

"The execution is scheduled for -" Commander checks their watch "- four minutes from now. I would not advise you watch."

I pay them no attention, I am already sprinting, racing toward where I know I will find her in chains and alive only for now. I burst through the doors. And there she is. She is surrounded by agents, too many even for me. She raises her head, hearing my entrance.

"Rose?" Her face is broken as those she once called comrades take her to be killed for a traitorous mission she knew nothing about. A traitorous mission I knew everything about.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, everything is my fault," I'm crying too, and there is not enough time, never enough time-

"I- Rose- What's happening," She shouts, as the agents - executioners - drag her to her feet and towards the double doors that will mark a point of no return.

"I- I can't- I don't know-" My words are failing me, I can't explain, I don't know how to explain. All I can do is apologize, again and again and again and-

"It's okay." I see a calm come over her face as she suddenly understands all I am trying to say. And I see, too, she forgives me. "It's okay."

That is all she has time for before they drag her off, chains rattling, her face still carrying a strange serenity. She looks at me for as long as she can before those double doors slam shut, before it is too late.

"I'm sorry," I say one last time, to empty air. And only she and I will ever know what for. I have lost too much on this mission, sacrificed too much too turn back now. I turn back towards the training room. I go back to my life of betrayal and loss. I will never leave.