vignette

[marycatelli]

This week's prompt is:
spots

Anyone can join, with a 50-word creative fiction vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.

Comments

[marycatelli]

"Look at your dress!" said the maid, furiously.
"Uh -- " Ava looked down. Specks of mud all about the hem.
"And the prince will be here any minute now! One would think you were trying to break off the betrothal that any other noble girl in the realm would leap at!"

[jbellinger]

He didn't remember when he had last studied his hand. The skin hung loose and ruddy, with big blue veins and spots that scrubbing didn't touch.

Only yesterday he'd been 30, and he'd had plans—wonderful plans! Was there still time for them all? Was there still time for any?

[marycatelli]

time flies. . .

[jbellinger]

"As usual, Babs wasn't thinking. She loved his looks and took him home to her apartment without asking questions."

"And he turned out to be more than she could handle," I concluded.

"He's as headstrong as she is!"

"And you want me to take an untrained Dalmation off her hands?"

[marycatelli]

Prudence is needed.

[marycatelli]

The castle was invisible in the gloomy night except for the windows, like spots of light in midair. Rosine wondered how many servants and guards were up and about at this hour. At least there would be someone awake there when they arrived, besides the guards that were escorting them.

[marycatelli]

The sunrise showed the creatures about him. Dog heads like hounds. Many of them with spots, larger and smaller. A tendency to look at him and growl, showing their teeth, as if he had forced them to abduct him against their will.
"Glad when it's over and done," muttered one.

[jbellinger]

Random waves in the distance made the horizon flicker with phantom ships. But in one place the spots seemed to persist.

He shouted down the hatch, "Up periscope to look at 143 degrees!"

Motors whirred and the tall scope rose behind him. After a minute the sub changed direction.

[marycatelli]

Good spotting!

[marycatelli]

"What lovely flowers they have," said Tiffany. "All those ruby-red flecks in the gold trumpets."
The gardener cleared his throat. "Your Highness. Those are weeds."
She turned. "The finest rose is a weed in a wheat field. But those flowers are not weeds, because they are beautiful in this garden."

[marycatelli]

The dark spots on the wall, she thought, were blood. They were brown, not red, but not quite so drab as the gray rock.
This was, after all, the danger that everyone in the village had warned them about. She hefted her sword. The others readied their weapons about her.

[marycatelli]

I took a step back, as my face grimaced without any thought on my part. The spots looked unnatural, unlike a dog's or hyena's.
"I see you have spotted a hellhound," said Constance. "Don't let it bite you."
True, I thought. I might heal others, but only if I survived.

[marycatelli]

Bolts of fabric descended to the store: striped, spotted, even with floral patterns. Autumn wondered whether they were coming back into fashion, and whether her brothers would insist on new gowns. They would not stint on something as important as this season, not with the plans they made for her.