Category: Stichomancy Prompts

“Let’s Pretend”

  • by KentOlga’s younger and more receptive sister
  • “brain fingerprinting”
  • treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods
  • blue-gray vest with silvery buttons
  • even slightly out of the ordinary

Tune in next time part 464      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Let’s pretend you do need to tell me how dangerous it is,” I grumbled. “I’m tired of riddles, and I’m tired of Jim’s bullshit. I don’t think I actually want him to be devoured by yetis, but maybe if I just don’t have to know one way or the other…”

“So now they’re real yeti?” Doctor Nanna pursed her lips into a duckbilled sneer.

“Cannibal furries, then. I don’t even care anymore. Are they the source of the danger? They only seemed interested in Jim.”

“They are the foot soldiers of Oksana, who is Olga’s younger and more receptive sister.”

I shook my head. “Olga’s the youngest.” And, from personal experience I was sure she set the bar impossibly high for receptivity.

Doctor Nanna shook her head too, mockingly. “Not that Olga. The one who pushed the cart in the room with all the books back at the Academy.”

A chill ran down my spine. There was a reason no one from the Academy ever utters the word “librarian” aloud, and that reason is Olga. She could tell which parts of a book a student had skipped over or misunderstood because, she claimed, our minds left smudgy traces among the words, and this “brain fingerprinting” told her what everyone was reading about, and by extension what everyone was plotting.

“What does Oksana want?” I asked.

“We think she’s throwing a party, and Jim has been forcibly invited. But you must remember that Oksana treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods, and that sooner or later the gavel falls for all of them. Jim knows things. We can’t let him be transferred to the highest bidder.” She gave me a warmer look, but only for a moment. “We’ve already lost too much time. Now, go put on your mountaineering uniform, the one with the blue-gray vest with silvery buttons, and recruit your team without alerting them that this is anything even slightly out of the ordinary.”

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I Twitched My Eyelid

  • by jencouldn’t see what was in the crotch
  • slept under a picture of a bear
  • flutes of champagne
  • your big girl panties
  • mountain honeycombed with caves

Tune in next time part 463      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I twitched my eyelid at Doctor Nanna to signal that I’d heard her message. Her lips relaxed into a slight smile. I wasn’t fluent in Academy staff slang, but I thought I knew what her unicorn comment meant. Unfortunately I couldn’t see what was in the crotch of her leotard to confirm, because it was hidden behind her surgical apron. I kept an eye on her as she flitted around the nursery, tending to Isolde and the infants.

“Every great warlord in Contraria’s history has slept under a picture of a bear,” Isolde said, gazing at the cartoony creatures adorning the walls. “This will do nicely.”

A 3-star yodeler arrived with flutes of champagne for Isolde and myself. “To the children.” I raised my glass.

“To the children,” Isolde agreed. She downed the champagne in one long pull and gave a dainty, giggling burp. “How many are there?” she asked. “I lost count. I felt like a baby piñata!”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Perhaps you should count them.” Behind Isolde, Doctor Nanna bent over a cradle and I finally had confirmation of her message.

I left Isolde with a second glass of champagne, and joined Doctor Nanna in the corner where we spoke in low voices. “I saw your big girl panties,” I said.

“I’d heard you were a clever boy, good with codes.” She handed me a swaddled infant. “This fortress is built on a mountain honeycombed with caves. That’s where those yeti took Jim.  I don’t need to tell you how dangerous this situation is.”

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Isolde Grinned Up At Me

  • by Kentwith a thin little nose between silver-rimmed spectacles
  • So why did the building planners put two toilets in the same stall?
  • They could… “experiment” on you
  • “Wash your face before you hug your mother,”
  • missing only one thing: a unicorn

Tune in next time part 462      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde grinned up at me from the floor where she sat in a veritable heap of newborns.

“Does this fortress have an obstetrician!” I bellowed.

“Relax,” Isolde lilted. “I’ve already asked about it.”

A door opened and an elderly woman with a thin little nose between silver-rimmed spectacles marched in. Her ears bore multiple piercings, most of them festooned with shark’s teeth, and her exposed shoulders and forearms were coated in elaborate circus-themed tattoos. She tutted, drying her hands with a paper towel. “So why did the building planners put two toilets in the same stall? I’m serious here, I’m asking, so if some wise-ass says ‘to get to the other side’ I’m turning right back around.” She fixed me with a look over the tops of her glasses. “Do you know? You look like you’re in charge around here. Anyway, it does create opportunities to get to know each other, if you’re open-minded.”

Too many bizarre things had happened too rapidly, leaving my mind susceptible to her grandmotherly charm. Inwardly I stammered in search of an answer. They hoped it… They didn’t… They could… “experiment” on you in there? Fortunately none of it was out loud.

“Yes, I’m an obstetrician, and I’m also a doula and a sixth-degree black belt and I’m here to save the day.” The old woman stooped and hefted one of the tiny babies. “Wash your face before you hug your mother,” the multi-talented fortress obstetrician said, producing a pack of sterile wipes from her bag and cleaning the infant all over.

“Thank you,” Isolde said, accepting the clean babe while the woman proceeded to the next one. “What is your name?”

“You may address me as Doctor Nanna, all the cool kids are doing it.”

In what seemed like no time at all Isolde cradled her entire litter, all cleaned up, and four footmen arrived with a palanquin to convey her to the nursery that I hadn’t known was being prepared for the royal rugrats. But Isolde clearly liked it, with all its cartoony clouds and candy-colored, trademark-infringing bears. So, I said, “I hope you like it.”

Doctor Nanna spoke up, saying, “Not too shabby. It’s missing only one thing: a unicorn.”

The twitch of her left eyelid might have been an incidental, involuntary thing, but for the fact that “missing a unicorn” was Hopscotch Academy slang that only the teachers had ever employed.

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Isolde was Still Struggling to Stand

  • by jeneach wore different colored goggles
  • never had a sandwich before
  • obscured by unmoving clouds
  • he was double her age
  • scattered on the carpet

Tune in next time part 461      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde was still struggling to stand as I raced from the room in pursuit of the kidnapping faux-yeti. In the courtyard I skidded to a halt. Arlo was there in the snow, locked in the stocks. His yeti head had been removed, exposing his bald scalp, which was now quite pink. I looked around in alarm. If Arlo was imprisoned, then who had abducted my brother? And why?

Near the outer wall I saw a phalanx of what appeared to be yeti. There were at least a dozen of the furry white things, and each wore different colored goggles and nothing else. The one with Jim over his shoulder loped across the icy cobblestones toward his comrades. Obviously they couldn’t be real yeti, since there was no such thing. They were probably a group of insurrectionists, the sort of malcontents who never had a sandwich before without finding something to complain about.

The “yeti” near the wall hooted at each other and then formed themselves into a human pyramid (or rather a yeti-pyramid). The one carrying Jim bounded up the stack of hairy bodies and vaulted over the wall before I could reach him. The others followed and disappeared up into the mountains, the tops of which were obscured by unmoving clouds and the ongoing blizzard.

Well, shit.

It was then that I remembered I was a General, and I didn’t have to do all this running around. I ordered a squadron of yodelers to give chase and retrieve my brother.

As I made my way back to the throne room, I thought about Isolde. She was my wife’s sister, and I had always found her most beautiful. Acting as Harry’s proxy for their wedding and wedding night was a highlight of my recent past, even if it did end with her wed to Harry. He was a toad-featured Junior Baronet, and he was double her age. I had no idea what she saw in him. And I had no idea what she was doing here at Enigma Fortress while he was in legal trouble and she was so close to giving birth.

I entered the throne room and immediately had to revise my musings. Isolde was no longer close to giving birth. She sat on the floor, beaming, with babies scattered on the carpet around her.

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I Made Sure I Had Jim’s Attention

  • by KentI want the hair
  • moved from gross to turbo-gross
  • Do not give this woman an inch.
  • just because she feeds me well
  • dealt with outrage my whole life

Tune in next time part 460      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I made sure I had Jim’s attention, and said, “I clean the drains because I want the hair.” With this utterance our conversation moved from gross to turbo-gross, but for the next several minutes my brother would be incapable of saying anything untrue. He blinked as if startled by a sunbeam, then stared vacantly ahead. The trance was in effect.

“What’s the deal with bringing Isolde out here?” I demanded. The well-being of those offspring was my primary concern.

Jim sounded like a southern-fried robot. “Do not give this woman an inch.”

“Hey!” Isolde exclaimed. She began struggling up from the couch, which was evidently going to take her a while.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” I said.

“She thinks she can keep me fooled,” Jim drone-drawled, “just because she feeds me well, but her scheme is obvious to me.”

“What scheme?” I pressed. The trance prevented lying, but clearly still permitted him to speak in riddles. Isolde continued wrestling unsuccessfully with gravity, her frustration growing into outrage. I was unimpressed, having dealt with outrage my whole life.

Jim said, “Her scheme to–” but he got no further before a white-furred bipedal abomination burst into the chamber and seized him up. The ease with which it carried my brother away had me wondering if this one was an actual yeti. No! It had to be Arlo, that dick, abducting Jim while he would be unable to provide false answers under interrogation.

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Isolde Crooked Her Finger

  • by jenpractically kissing my cheek
  • name of your sex tape
  • capable of extraordinary cruelty
  • the ice-master caught the first sight
  • winning the war against time

Tune in next time part 459      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde crooked her finger, beckoning me closer and closer until her eyelashes were practically kissing my cheek. She whispered, “The soothsayers soothsay it’s triplets, at least. Harry is just thrilled.”

“Is that why he’s causing scenes at cotillions?” I asked snippily. I hadn’t forgotten that Fleur expected me to act as Harry’s lawyer.

“Causing Scenes at Cotillions,” said Jim. “I do believe that’s the name of your sex tape, brother.”

Isolde trilled a high-pitched laugh. She obviously found Jim charming. My brother had that effect on women, largely because they didn’t know he was capable of extraordinary cruelty. At the Academy, the Ice-Master caught the first sight of Jim’s mean streak, and the poor man was never the same again.

I stood to my full height and straightened my General’s frock coat, vest, and cravat. “So, Jim, I am to believe that you flew through a blizzard in an airship to tell me that Freya wants to see me, when either you or she are perfectly capable of sending a telegram? And Isolde, who is barely winning the war against time in regards to delivering her children, just tagged along for fun?”

It was time to deploy that lie-suppressing trigger phrase.

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We Were Intercepted At the End of the Gangplank

  • by Kent“Hwaaaaaah.”
  • thankfully I never had to see Santa again
  • traveling with your lobster
  • your thick head of hair and your killer gams
  • Flip out about this, won’t you?

Tune in next time part 458      Click Here for Earlier Installments

We were intercepted at the end of the gangplank by YoYo. “Yes,” I said, knowing she was going to make an insubordinate inquiry as to my involvement in Isolde’s gravid condition. “And it’s twins.”

To this, YoYo only said, “Hwaaaaaah.” It seemed she remembered that she was in the presence of royalty on the verge of saying something disrespectful. She stepped out of the path of the new arrivals, and their retinue with me in their lead. We proceeded to the throne room where the weary travelers could recline until their chambers were prepared.

But not Jim. I cornered him before he could stretch out on a chaise. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I bear a message from our sister,” he replied in his eternally smirking drawl.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Freya wants to see you,” Jim said.

My last sight of Freya, she had been in the company of an unclean Santa, allegedly an operative. I looked forward to being reunited with my sister, but thankfully I never had to see Santa again.

Naturally, I couldn’t trust anything Jim told me. He had to be tested. I jerked my head toward Isolde in her impractical red dress. “I see you’re traveling with your lobster. Is that wise, when she’s so far along?” Suddenly I foresaw the babies being born here, at Enigma Fortress, an image so upsetting that I forgot I was building up to an implanted trigger phrase that would have temporarily suppressed Jim’s ability to lie. It made me furious. “I can’t believe you think you can float in here, with your thick head of hair and your killer gams, and there will never be any reckoning!”

Jim’s smirk quirked to the right, which I’d never seen it do before. I knew how to read all his subconscious facial tics, and this one wasn’t on my list. He said, “Flip out about this, won’t you? It’s what we’ve come all this way to witness.”

“Well, it’s madness!” I exclaimed. I whirled to Isolde. “What about you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

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“What is That Racket?”

  • by jengeneral costumes
  • is kinda like cilantro
  • wearing a long crocheted dress and, I was certain, even from my distance, no brassiere
  • lunk-headed older brother
  • dictionary definition of quixotic

Tune in next time part 457      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“What is that racket?” I asked.

“That’s the zeppelin detection system,” said the first guard.

“Someone is arriving from the capital,” said the second.

“What about the blizzard?” I asked. The heavy snow was the reason I had been stranded here when my wife summoned me.

“The royal zeppelins all have flame-throwers,” said the first guard. “But of course you know that, General. I suspect you’re just testing us.”

“Of course, of course.” Did my zeppelin have a flame thrower? If so, why had everyone pretended I was snowed in? Motioning to Arlo, I said, “Take this criminal to the stockade.”

The guards saluted and hustled the whimpering Arlo off. I grabbed a roll of glitter storm tape and returned to my quarters to figure out which of my general costumes I should put on now. It would help if I knew exactly who was on the incoming airship. Contrarian military garb is kinda like cilantro — some people enjoy it while others are genetically predisposed to find it repulsive. For the most part I’m in the former category (who doesn’t like to look fancy?), but I was getting a little tired of all the quick-changes.

Down the zeppelin’s gangway waddled a heavily pregnant Isolde. She was not dressed for the weather, wearing a long crocheted dress and, I was certain, even from my distance, no brassiere. I couldn’t fathom what business she had at Enigma Fortress. Shouldn’t she be somewhere near a maternity hospital, so close to giving birth? And wasn’t her husband Harry in some sort of trouble? My confusion only grew when I saw who was with her: my rapscallion brother Jim.

The two of them approached and we made all of the appropriate courtly gestures of greeting. Jim stage-whispered to Isolde, “My lunk-headed older brother looks surprised to see us.”

Trying to track all of the inter-familial machinations in my life was the very dictionary definition of quixotic.

“Let’s get you inside where it’s warm,” I said. I may have been acting as Harry’s proxy when I impregnated Isolde, but my protective impulses toward the children she was carrying were genuine.

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I Heard the Distinctive Tromping Cadence

  • by Kentdiplomats of any rank
  • dissolved into just the notion of an omelette
  • having an extra nipple
  • recover hope all ye who enter here
  • mind-bending music

Tune in next time part 456      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I heard the distinctive tromping cadence of a guard patrol in the corridor.

“Don’t move!” I barked at Arlo. Then I hauled the door open and summoned the guards into the room. “Arrest this foreign agitator!” I ordered.

“Who, the yeti?” asked the first guard.

Arlo had put the furry mask back on over his shiny bald head. Fine.

“Yes, the yeti!” I said. A smile crept onto my face. “Arrest it, or, treat it in the customary manner. I am told that in the Paradoxica region, you use every part of the yeti.”

“Never mind that,” said the second guard. “But might I inquire as to your business in this tape storeroom? The signage clearly indicates–”

“I am a general, and I am in command of this fortress. That’s my business in this and every room. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, sir. Except, you see, while diplomats of any rank are free to peruse the tape stockpile, military personnel, including all officers, must be properly escorted.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Take the yeti and chop it up and throw it in the larder. Better yet, it’s fresh. Why not make stock? Simmer it until its bones have dissolved into just the notion of an omelette. I’ll worry about the glitter storm tape later.”

They rousted Arlo to his feet, him still making his pathetic imitation animal grunts. I was surprised he maintained the charade, given my suggestions for how to deal with a ‘yeti’ like him.

“Bit short for a yeti, isn’t he?” asked the first guard.

“Oy, ew!” exclaimed the other. “Can’t cook with any shrimpy yeti having an extra nipple. Too gamey!”

The yeti costume worn by Arlo was indeed equipped with a supernumerary nipple. And in the armpit, a tattoo reading “recover hope all ye who enter here.”

I harrumphed. “In that case, let’s go back to where we started: arrest him!” And I yanked on the costume’s headpiece. It didn’t come off, and Arlo made sad whimpering noises.

“No disrespect, sir, but we do try not to mistreat the yetis. We hunt them for sport and meat, sure. But we never pull their hair.”

“This is no yeti,” I insisted, but they were openly doubtful. We were all interrupted by a new sound from the corridor, mind-bending music like a swarm of wasps skimming the inner contours of a sousaphone.

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Like Any Good Bureaucracy

  • by jen(read: glitter storm)
  • visited the forbidden basement
  • I almost gasp
  • murmured to the trembling creature
  • “Gimme a fucking break, girlie!”

Tune in next time part 455      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Like any good bureaucracy, Contraria makes liberal use of red tape. But only in the low country during the week of the new moon every other leap year. The University of Pittsburghistan offers doctorate level studies in proper tape usage, and without a degree from that hallowed institution it’s impossible to enter the diplomatic corps.

This being the Paradoxica Mountains, and the moon being a waxing crescent, with the barometric pressure falling, I needed pale blue tape with multicolored sparkles (read: glitter storm). Enigma Fortress kept their tape in an underground vault behind a door marked “No Admittance: Authorized Personnel Only.” Being the highest ranking officer in the fortress I decided I was authorized, and so visited the forbidden basement to get the consecrated tape and other stationery supplies to file my report.

I almost gasped when I flipped on the fluorescent lights and beheld a shaggy white bear-like beast huddled in the corner. It looked for all the world like a yeti, but that was obviously ridiculous. I approached slowly and murmured to the trembling creature, hoping to get a better look and determine if it was actually a dog or what.

Its growls sounded like a person imitating an animal more than an actual animal. I screwed up my courage and tugged on the furry head. It came right off, exposing the pink bald scalp I had hoped to never see again.

“Arlo!” I spat. “I knew you were behind the poisoning attempt. Why are you disguised as a mythical creature?”

“Gimme a fucking break, girlie!” my nemesis cried. “Everyone knows that yeti are real!”

“I’m assuming you don’t know what they do with yetis here in the mountains.”

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