tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post5349702705083867419..comments2023-07-06T07:33:06.262-04:00Comments on * Writers' Spark * Every story has to start somewhere *: Prompt: Sharing the little you haveUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-85206296637226506452013-05-14T23:24:26.495-04:002013-05-14T23:24:26.495-04:00Very nice! I can see the world-building here, with...Very nice! I can see the world-building here, with the service well. I like the kids sharing stuff, the past/present comparison. Reminded me a little of Matthew Kirby's Clockwork Three, which Emily loved and I'm currently reading.Margaret S. McGrawhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18301618521427459626noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-37198266550479980642013-05-14T18:59:17.323-04:002013-05-14T18:59:17.323-04:00Prompt: Sharing the little you have
"Billy...Prompt: Sharing the little you have<br /><br /> <br />"Billy?" said Sandra.<br /> <br />I added my fruit bar and two caffeine balls to the pile. It was less than any of the other kids, and I felt smaller as Sandra frowned at our meagre collection. <br /><br />"I also got these," I said, quickly, shoving forward two worn patches: round, with actual embroidery that frayed around the edges, they showed a stylized sun with seven rays shining from behind a silver oval, which I thought might have been meant to be a ship.<br /><br />Sandra snatched up the patches and stared intently. Sandra was the oldest of the four of us, the only one who remembered a time before the wars. She said that the station used to be a crossroads, where ambassadors from lots of different species gathered, and presidents visited, and troops marched in shiny unison. Well, some things were the same. Although the troops were considerably less than shiny, now.<br /> <br />"Where?" Sandra asked, sharp and clipped, still staring at the patches. Jane met my eyes, and Craig leaned toward Sandra, trying to get a look.<br /><br />"I d-d-don’t know," I said, my stutter returning in the sudden stress. Someone had handed them to me...or I had found them in the service well...? Or someone in the service well had handed them to me? Why would someone have been in the service well?<br /><br />"How could you not know?" Sandra looked up.<br /><br />"I-I-I.."<br /><br />"Leave him be," Jane said, as ever my defender.<br /><br />Sandra sighed. "Billy, take a breath. I want you to think back. These patches--how long have you had them?"<br /><br /><br />Time writing: 20 minutes<br /><br />Annenoreply@blogger.com