Our host for today’s post is New Unofficial On-Line Writer’s Guild OLWG# 359, this week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.” Choose a number between 1 and 50. These choices will determine the prompts used for the next time. I choose the number #24
Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.
This week’s prompts are:
- this is the last time I’ll dance with you, Mr Kerr
- those shoes
- love, and revenge… with snakes
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In the waning hours of the night, a peculiar customer sauntered into the blood bank, the soles of his shoes silent against the linoleum floor. The clerk, Mr. Kerr, looked up from his mundane paperwork, peering over his spectacles with an eyebrow raised in silent question.
The vampire, pale as the moonbeam filtering through the blinds, spoke in a silky voice, “This is the last time I’ll dance with you, Mr Kerr.”
Kerr, unfazed by the melodramatics, sighed. “Mr. Drac, every time you come in here it’s the ‘last time’. What is it now? Out of O negative at the crypt?”
“Oh, how you wound me with your words!” the vampire theatrically clutched his chest. “I’m here on a mission of love, and revenge… with snakes.”
“Right,” Mr. Kerr drawled, his fingers already tapping at the keyboard. “Love and revenge, the usual Thursday. Snakes, though? That’s a new twist.”
The vampire leaned in, a devilish glint in his red eyes. “I met a witch, a cruel temptress who turned my love into a serpent!”
“And let me guess, you want to win her back with a blood donation?” Mr. Kerr couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips.
“Exactly!” the vampire exclaimed. “A pint of your finest synthetic blood, to show her my heart beats only for her—metaphorically speaking.”
“Right. One pint of synthetic. Will that be cash, credit, or…” Kerr glanced at the vampire’s outdated attire, “a bag of gold coins?”
The vampire slid forward a velvet pouch that jingled promisingly. Mr. Kerr weighed it in his hand, then nodded. “Alright, Romeo. And what about the revenge?”
“Oh, that,” the vampire waved a dismissive hand. “The snake is her ex. He won’t appreciate the competition. So, I plan to dazzle them both with my… those shoes.”
Mr. Kerr followed the vampire’s gaze down to a pair of garish, glittering shoes. “Those shoes look like disco balls mated with a python.”
“Fashion is my silent war cry,” the vampire stated proudly, tapping a shoe.
Mr. Kerr chuckled as he prepared the synthetic blood. “I’ll add ‘snake charmer’ to your file, Mr. Drac. Good luck with the witch. And try not to step on your own feet with those shoes.”
As the vampire glided away, potion in hand, Mr. Kerr shook his head, his laughter echoing in the empty blood bank. “Only in Transylvania,” he muttered, turning back to the night’s accounting, the life of a blood bank clerk never dull.
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That was Wild!