Writing Prompt #5: Tiny stories

What the heck is this thing?

It was an old-fashioned card case. Inside was a red OPA token, a faded photograph of a handsome army officer. On the back of the photograph, an inscription read, "10/10. Full and satisfied."

Patty stared at the treasure in her hand. "What the hell is an OPA?" She opened her phone and looked it up.

Huh. The US Office of Prince Administration used them to freeze prices during World War II. The tokens were used for rationing. The red ones were mostly used for meats. Cool.

The black and white photograph revealed the eagle on his epaulets. Again, Wikipedia to the rescue. Colonel. Nice.

She sat down on an overturned milk crate amidst the dust and silence of her great-grandmother's attic. Several months after the funeral, only a smattering of boxes remained in storage. The downstairs furniture had already been distributed to the extended family. Here, in this third to last box, was a collection of card cases and notebooks.

Patty flicked open the next case. This picture was off a...hmm...three bars up, one down. According to her research, a staff Sargent. On the back was "5/10" but there were ten blue tokens.

She flipped open a random yellowed notebook. "Nice cock, but much too fast." The phrase caught her eye. Patty giggled. "Maman, you minx!" A box full of souvenirs  and ratings on old lovers. Oh, this find was hers and hers alone. For years, Patty had been been the black sheep of their family with her free-love attitude. Nice to know she came from *somewhere* along the family tree. No one else was in the attic with her. She slid the old box into a new one, taped it shut, pulled the cap off a Sharpie and wrote, "Recycling" on the side.

Soft-footed, she tip-toed down the stairs, took the box directly to her car, put it in the truck, covered it with a blanket. She and great-grandmother were going to have a good sharing of secrets tonight!

Writing Prompt #3:Tiny Stories.

The tiny copper colored wires sang an ancient song to her. The object  held metal flanges set into a metal circle. Tiny wires descended from the flanges through the glass of its container to end in a horseshoe of 7 thing prongs.

She pressed the prongs into the fleshy part of her arm and admired the neat impressions they made. The glass was unlike the smoky, opaque glass she'd known her entire life. The glass was clear and smooth, pleasing to the touch. At the very top, the glass came to a point, like some kind of exotic hat.

The long-extinct humans had been great experimenters and inventors. She recognized this object from her ancient history; it had been used to control electric currents. Here in New LA, they had tamed the tides to create power since the surface dwellers' electricity didn't work in the water. But despite her people's eight limbs and sensitive suckers, they had trouble with the transmission of kinetic energy.

She wrapped the pleasant glass tube in one limb and propelled out of her salvage building. The future depended on the music of a forgotten spark.


My inspiration:
http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2016/05/world-octopus-and-squid-populations-are-booming

I, for one, welcome our Cephalopod overlords. 

Writing Prompt #2: Tiny Stories

Again, the challenge was to write, just write. Not think, not edit, not change anything.

As a result, I present:

Quest Accepted

It is the twenty-first century. The days of seven league boots, of secret wizards doling out quests from hidden booths in the market, of dreams that come true are long, long gone. 

Modern people could only shuffle through racks and shelves of vintage stores to get a glimpse of the most mundane of treasures. 

The well-worn denim jacket fit perfectly. Rare for a thrift store find, but what drew her to it was the trio of badges that promised things she only dared dream.

One was a smiley face with a negative sign to indicate a wink and a positive sign for a nose. One was a topless woman, reminiscent of a Nagel painting, with the words Soft Metals across the center, and the last, the most intriguing button said, “Talk Kinky to Me!” 

She clutched the lapels in her hands and posed in front of the mirror. The reflection showed a bad-ass, someone daring, someone who flirted and knew her own desires. Someone who took risks.

About as far as she could get from her normal introverted self. 

The jacket was five dollars.She chewed on her lower lip. Five dollars for a broken-in jean jacket was not a risk. She could take off the buttons if she wanted to.

Blushing, she bought the jacket and hurried out the store. Quest accepted.