• smeared me with lipstick and face powder
• holds the blanket up to indicate his intent
• here at last was the elusive
• clean up after himself
• and green flannel snowpants

Tune in next time part 185                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Old nut-cracker face ignored my question and smeared me with lipstick and face powder. He plopped a curly blond wig on my head. “Take off that ridiculous jumpsuit if you want to get away from your mother. I’ll find you something else to wear.” His eyes crawled all over me. “A disguise.” His tone was not unlike that of a pervert who wraps himself in a blanket and hangs out in the bus station, the sort who holds the blanket up to indicate his intent to make your entire bus ride miserable. Pervert or not, though, he was offering to help me escape from Mother and her nefarious plans for me.

I slowly eased the zipper down on my jumpsuit as I watched him dig through crates and trunks and suitcases full of wholesome stripper attire, throwing clothes and shoes and boas everywhere. After what felt like an eternity he finally said, “Aha!” and stood, triumphant. Here at last was the elusive disguise he’d been seeking. He approached me, fists full of fabric, and didn’t even bother to clean up after himself.

Soon I had removed my corduroy jumpsuit and donned an equally ridiculous new outfit. It consisted of a calico pinafore and green flannel snowpants, with a pair of kicky espadrilles for my feet.

I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself in my new wig, makeup, and feminine clothes. As I headed for the back door, I saw old nut-cracker face struggling into my abandoned clothing.

Why would he want to do that?

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

• I love the idea of a jumpsuit
• all I can say is that I was desperately hungry
• which lay so thickly upon the floor
• clothed in a captain’s uniform
• fueled by frustration and alcohol

Tune in next time part 167                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Even though I now had all the answers, I still needed to disguise myself and escape from Valentine Village. If I was lucky, maybe I’d find Tessa on the way out.

I love the idea of a jumpsuit for everyday wear. It obviates the need to find matching tops and bottoms, and, as a man, the whole peeing thing isn’t really an issue. But while I do love a good jumpsuit, I didn’t relish the idea of a lace one. Since that was all that I had at my disposal, though, I finished stripping my scrivener victim. I even stole his underwear. I know that sounds gross, but all I can say is that I was desperately hungry for my freedom, and my spiky codpiece would have shredded the lace in no time. As for going without, well, did I mention that the jumpsuit was made of lace? I didn’t want to get arrested for scandalizing the hordes of children which lay so thickly upon the floors and streets of this horrible amusement park. Believe me, I would much rather have been clothed in a captain’s uniform.

I squeezed myself into the jumpsuit, which was obviously designed for a less-muscular man. The lace was stretched to the breaking point, and I would have to move very carefully to avoid ripping the seams. The last thing I needed was to end up looking like some combination of Prince and the Hulk, fueled by frustration and alcohol and musical genius.

Shuffling carefully I exited the room. I’d have to hurry if I wanted to stop Mother’s plot.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

• the best-looking guy in the room
• “There! There! Look at that troop of giraffes!”
• “That’s for drinking only.”
• rubbed it over Joan’s arms and legs
• we used to be friends a long time ago

Tune in next time part 163                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

At the academy, Jason had been a terrible student. He was usually the best-looking guy in the room (unless I was there and it was a tie) and he got by on his looks. But now, here he was throwing code phrases at me. What could it mean?

“There! There! Look at that troop of giraffes!” was my cautious reply. I was curious to see whether he had the whole phrasebook memorized, or just the one message that had no sibilants to trigger his lisp.

Relief washed over my twin’s face. He jerked his head toward a backpack hanging on the coat tree, bobbing his eyebrows meaningfully.

I stepped back out of the tunnel with an extra swivel in my hips to keep Kelly distracted, and opened the pack. Sure enough it held the flask Jason’s code phrase had promised. Could he possibly be in on the plan with Heinrich and Svetlana? My skimpy outfit had no pockets, so I tucked the flask into my waistband.

With a nod of appreciation, I sashayed back to the tunnel and hurried on. There were occasional signs of wild fishermen, but nothing fresh. I breathed a sigh of relief and concentrated on following the map on my palm.

When I reached the door that marked the end of my subterranean journey, I pressed my ear against it. I was hoping to hear Tessa, but I was disappointed.

I slid the panel open and crept into the room while its sole inhabitant was distracted at the mirror, applying mascara. She was dressed like Aphrodite.

“Hello, Joan,” I said. “It’th me, Jathon.”

Joan narrowly avoided poking herself in the eye with her mascara wand as she jumped to her feet. “You fool! You know you shouldn’t be here!”

I shrugged and pulled the flask from my waistband, poured some of the liquid into my hand. When Joan saw, her eyes got wide. She spluttered, “That’s for drinking only.”

I put the flask down and looked at the pale green liquid in my palm, then rubbed it over Joan’s arms and legs while she stared at me.

“You’re not Jason!” she said. “But I know who you are. We used to be friends a long time ago, at the academy. Your name is–”

The room’s other door crashed open and Jenkins barreled in, yelling, “Step 5, motherfuckers!”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

• who also worked at the bank
• avoid being intimate with Jim
• I tried and tried to explain to him
• “Jesus wants me to be a dick,”
• I’ll be using your name

Tune in next time part 161                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I like my thighs unperforated, so instead of climbing down the ladder into the tunnel, I jumped. My landing was cushioned by the piles of tinsel that got thrown down here when the place was rebranded as Valentine Village. I had to wade through heaps and drifts of the stuff as I made my way through the labyrinth. In the soft light that bounced off every surface, I consulted the crude map Svetlana had scrawled on my palm.

When I reached the correct door I took a deep breath. I was not looking forward to this confrontation.

I crouched down and peered through the keyhole. In the gaudy lavender and pink room on the other side, I saw my twin, Jason, as I had been told to expect. What was a surprise was the presence of Kelly. She was the love of Jason’s life, and she’d gone to prison in my stead once upon a time, through no fault of my own. She worked at the bank we robbed, and she was sleeping with my brother Jim who also worked at the bank. Jason begged her to find ways to avoid being intimate with Jim, but she claimed there was no other way. I tried and tried to explain to him that if Kelly truly loved him she wouldn’t be banging our brother against his wishes, but Jason was blinded by love. He let Kelly walk all over him.

Like now.

Jason was still wearing the priest costume he’d adopted while hiding out at that little church in Rhode Island. He was laying on the floor, and Kelly was standing on his back, digging her toes in.

“You’re a naughty, naughty priest, aren’t you?” she purred.

“Jesus wants me to be a dick,” he groaned.

I burst into the room before things could get any tawdrier. Kelly shrieked, and then started laughing. I looked down and saw that miles of tinsel had gotten entangled in my leg hair, making it look like I was wearing shiny disco chaps. It did not add to the menacing air I wanted to exude, but it did cause a distraction. While Kelly guffawed and Jason tried to figure out what was so funny, I pounced. Moments later I had the two of them bound hand and foot.

“Sorry Jason,” I said. “For Step 4 of Svetlana and Heinrich’s plan I’ll be using your name.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

• we wish we had not so many clothes
• throngs of volunteers
• there was a guard
• brown hair and a mustache
• standing this time on her right foot

Tune in next time part 155                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Heinrich!” I exclaimed.

Heinrich used his toe to flip his hat up off the ground. It landed neatly on his head. He glared at me. The last time I’d seen him he was in a very unpleasant situation involving his wife, a nasty jellyfish sting, and urine.

I smirked. “How’s Aphrodite?”

“Our marriage is over.” He shuddered. “After what I had to do to save her, there was no way for us to go on.”

“And Svetlana?” By the looks of his enormous gut, his contortionist mistress had resumed her residency underneath his aloha shirt.

“It is at her request that I am here,” Heinrich said. He began to unbutton his shirt, and then the one underneath it. “Sometimes,” he muttered, “we wish we had not so many clothes.”

There weren’t exactly throngs of volunteers eager to help him strip, that’s for sure. In the corner there was a guard, but he was studiously ignoring us.

Finally all the layers of Heinrich’s garments were peeled away, exposing Svetlana. She gracefully unfolded herself from her harness and stood between Heinrich and me, wearing only a pale pink leotard and balancing on her left foot. She stretched her right leg straight up by her head. This pose made it impossible to ignore her pregnant belly.

“I’m so glad we found you!” she cried. “I knew you’d be thrilled to hear that our little train rendezvous was a success!” She caressed her belly. “It’s going to have brown hair and a mustache, I just know it!”

I threw a glance at Heinrich, wondering how he felt about all this. He glared at me even harder before turning his attention back to Svetlana who was standing this time on her right foot.

“You’ll have to do just what we say,” Heinrich said, “or we’ll tell Fleur and her warlord father about Svetlana’s baby.”

Svetlana threw me an evil grin. “And we’ll tell Tessa, too!”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

• “That’s enough.”
• violating curfew
• a commotion and a scream
• his fellow student of death
• by promptitude and dexterity

Tune in next time part 153                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I was still reeling from the shock of learning that the man I had always known as my great uncle was instead my mother’s step-father. It was a baffling state of affairs that did nothing to explain why he was now holding me at gunpoint and refusing to let me go to Valentine Village to find Tessa, or at the very least a message from her.

The tree we stood under had many branches that reached toward the sky, and a single branch that dipped toward the ground. I did a quick calculation in my head, and then, by promptitude and dexterity, timed my move.

In the split-second when Jinx blinked, I sprang up, grabbed the branch, and wrapped my legs around the old man’s neck. It was a move I learned from John when I was his fellow student of death at the Academy.

Jinx dropped his gun amid a commotion and a scream that I silenced by squeezing my thighs and cutting off his air. When he crumpled and sagged, I released him and dropped down from the tree. I was now glad I’d allowed John to talk me into violating curfew so many times to hone our fighting skills in the fields outside the Academy.

In the distance I saw the Rainbow Connection, that most colorful of locomotives, still getting back up to speed. The violet caboose was just visible. I sprinted for it, my thighs shrieking and my lungs burning with the effort. I caught the rear railing just before my legs gave out, and I hauled myself up onto the platform.

I laid there, gasping, for the rest of the ride to Barbershoppe. Outside the station, I caught a cab to Valentine Village.

The amusement park was the gaudiest thing I’ve ever seen, all red and pink and frilly lace. Insipid love songs played over the sound system as I waited in line to buy a ticket. My teeth ached from the saccharinity of it all.

At the heart-shaped ticket window, the chubby man dressed like Cupid took one look at me and said, “Tessa’s waiting for you, Jason.” He let me in through a side door marked Employees Only. “She wants you to wear this.” He handed me a toga and a pair of feathery white wings that matched his own, and then stood watching as I changed into them.

“The final touch,” he said, handing me a compact full of blush and a makeup brush. He held a mirror for me as I applied layer after layer of the red stuff to my cheeks. Finally he said, “That’s enough.”

bonus points for using them in reverse order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!