Tagged: dance

I Always Trust My Instincts

  • by jentwice as much poop
  • she’s one queenly lady
  • brother was not happy
  • he’s definitely dodgy
  • but you are the exception

Tune in next time part 915      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I always trust my instincts, and things usually work out well. There are times, though, when I land in a world of poop. And the fact that the nanobots controlling me wouldn’t even let me think of the other, nastier, word for poop meant that I was in twice as much poop as I’d thought just a moment ago.

Poop.

I could think of only one person who would program such prudish nanobots. Her name’s Ursula, and she’s one queenly lady. That I could now remember her meant that at least one part of my plan had worked. I wasn’t sure I was better off, though. Remembering Ursula meant also remembering Bjorn, and that was dangerous. Back at the Academy, Ursula’s brother was not happy that she was spending time with me. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of Bjorn, but he’s definitely dodgy, devilish, and downright dangerous. I don’t remember how he altered my memory to make me forget I ever met his sister, but clearly he did.

My dancing feet twirled me around, and my sultry strut carried me away from the slippery tiled stairs. My eyes darted to every corner, hoping to spot whoever was controlling me. Just because Ursula programmed the bots didn’t mean she was still in charge.

“Ah, Ursula,” I said, utterly without intending to. “I thought that there was no one who could make me forget Tessa, but you are the exception.”

Who the fudge was controlling my mouth?

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Hoping My Companion Could Hold His Breath

  • by KentMy bare ass almost made contact!
  • already sweaty
  • a nearby fanny pack
  • socks with cherries on them
  • tango that culminates in an extravaganza

Tune in next time part 914      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Hoping my companion could hold his breath really well, I worked as fast as I could to fashion the rest of the apparatus. I whipped yards of foil off the roll, rapidly forming it into another box with one side left open so I would be able to place it over my own head. The other component was a narrow tube to connect the enclosures once they were both in place. The final maneuver was the most challenging part: I took the knife from his hand and, working blind because I had already sealed myself up in my box, poked through the other man’s foil and also the skin on his nose. Then I quickly put the tube in place over the opening so that the escaping nanobots would flow over to me. I gave them a few seconds, and then pinched the foil tube shut to keep them on my side.

“Okay, you can unwrap yourself!” I called out with the last of my held breath, and when I tried to inhale I felt the microscopic swarm tingle across my mucous membranes along with a pittance of stale air. That had been my goal all along, but something about the situation suddenly felt off.

I pulled the foil off so I could breathe, and so I could see. The pharma man was gone. He must have been in a hurry to resume his secret mission.

The phone with the nanobot control app was gone, too. That was bad, because without it I had no way of programming them to restore my memories, or keeping anyone else from using them to control me.

“Sleep.” The word sounded within my head, and my last thought before I passed out was that I really needed to get that phone back.

Seemingly the next instant, I was in a Colloquillian steam bath. But the thing is, everything in Colloquillia needs scare quotes. What they call a “steam bath” is… not nice. I was also nude, and poised in the act of sitting down on some random slimy surface. My bare ass almost made contact! The place was horrid, but the steamy part of the name was true. I was already sweaty from the presumably mild exertion of disrobing. I didn’t see my own clothes anywhere around, so I searched a nearby fanny pack and discovered one garment: a pair of socks with cherries on them. I didn’t bother putting them on, but donned the fanny pack with them still in it.

“Dance.” The word again seemed to fill my skull but came from no discernible source, and the effect was immediate. My limbs arranged themselves into a classic pose, and my feet carried me in a marching cadence across the fetid chamber. Unless they stopped soon, I would be dancing a tango that culminates in an extravaganza of bruises, because this steam room had stairs going down.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

So Far Nobody had Noticed the Three of Us on the Sofa

  • by jenmesmerizing fiddle music
  • he moved in a kind of circle
  • graced by his peacocking presence
  • upgrade your underwear
  • But who had licked them?

Tune in next time part 681      Click Here for Earlier Installments

So far nobody had noticed the three of us on the sofa, which was surprising given the garishness of my new uniform. But my sartorial crimes paled in comparison to those of the individual who strutted in behind the children, dressed in a blue panda costume. The panda went to the record player and managed, even with his big furry paws, to turn it on. From speakers all around the petting zoo came mesmerizing fiddle music, the sort often played at haunted carnivals. The panda clapped his paws four times to the beat while he moved in a kind of circle around the lambs. I knew immediately who was inside the costume. He’d been wearing one not unlike it on a blimp not unlike this one in the not-too-distant past. Plus, I’d recognize that dancing anywhere.

“It’s Jim!” Esmerelda whispered frantically.

That was the conclusion I’d come to, too. Jim. Her husband, my brother. The way he moved showed that he expected us all to feel graced by his peacocking presence.

Esmerelda tried to climb over the back of the sofa to hide, but Cleopatra stopped her. “It’s time to upgrade your underwear to big girl panties and talk to him.”

Panda Jim was still dancing his shamanic dance with the livestock. From the tilt of his head I thought perhaps he was eavesdropping on us.

Suddenly I noticed that my fingers were wet. I was so intent on reading my brother’s body language that I didn’t notice how it happened, but they were certainly wet, and it was certainly saliva that made them so. But who had licked them? One of the Svenborgian Underduchesses? One of my children? One of the animals? Or something worse?

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Dashing Through the Snow With a Robot

  • by jenleft to the mercies of savage beasts
  • stand on the equatorial line
  • all of them ablaze
  • midnight gardeners
  • how many woodchucks

Tune in next time part 589    Click Here for Earlier Installments

Dashing through the snow with a robot simulacrum of my true love by my side reminded me strongly of senior prom at the Academy. As per tradition, everyone in the running for Prom King and Queen were taken by helicopter to a remote wintry location and left to the mercies of savage beasts. The first male and female students to make it back to the Academy and stand on the equatorial line in the courtyard would be crowned prom royalty.

That year, Tessa (the true, human Tessa) and I were the winners. I remembered with pride the two of us ascending to our thrones, surrounded by great bonfires, all of them ablaze with leaping blue flames. I could still hear the Academy’s midnight gardeners debating how many woodchucks it took to chuck wood for so many fires.

I knew the answer, of course. I was the Prom King.

I still remembered the answer to that riddle, but I doubted it would do me much good in my current circumstances.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Brandita Gathered the Chapstick Tubes

  • by jenHe is a stupid fool
  • copying Mother Nature isn’t always the best approach
  • all he kept was the duffle bag
  • elbows tight against my sides
  • , and the dance begins

Tune in next time part 577    Click Here for Earlier Installments

Brandita gathered the chapstick tubes we’d been using during the Baron’s demonstration, and placed them reverently back in their ceremonial box. All the while, the Baron stared at the postcard, crossing and uncrossing his eyes, blinking one and then the other, and otherwise making a great show of squinting officiously. He is a stupid fool, I thought, at least when it comes to codes. Even with so many clues he still could not decipher the message.

Tessa tapped her foot impatiently. “Are we getting off this island, or what?”

Von Dimpleheimer sneered at her. “The man who built you should have realized that copying Mother Nature isn’t always the best approach, but it seems that when god was handing out engineering smarts, all he kept was the duffle bag.”

“Hey!” I said. “There’s no reason to be rude!”

The Baron swiveled his head to me. He arched one bushy eyebrow. “I am not insulting your lovely robot, just the man who made her. All TSS-A Units are adept cryptographers. The feature is supposed to be well-hidden, but is actually easy to access.”

He directed Tessa to stand close in front of me, arms around my waist, elbows tight against my sides. “And now,” he said, “the music starts, and the dance begins, and the TSS-A Unit’s linguistics operations are mine to exploit.” He turned the crank on his victrola. “I’ll have that postcard decoded in no time.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

“Tell Him Everything About the Club”

  • by jenthere were X-rays
  • official uniform for all real estate agents everywhere
  • “I see it clearly! It is a volcano.”
  • serial killer baseball cards
  • worn by Cleopatra

Tune in next time part 549     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Tell him everything about the club,” I goaded, to keep Tessa talking.

“The theme of the club was ‘hospitals’,” she said. “And there were X-rays over all the lights, which gave everything a blueish glow. The staff all wore white lab coats, but every other patron in the place, besides the Viscount and myself, were dressed in gold jackets, which everyone knows is the official uniform for all real estate agents everywhere.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why the agents decided to have their convention at a bar called Hospital, but we were surrounded, weren’t we darling?”

It was my turn to pick up the tale again. “Oh yes, simply surrounded. And one of them pointed to Tessa’s lava lamp dress and said, ‘I see it clearly! It is a volcano.’ Which made the rest of them give us the once-over suspiciously, like they’d seen our faces in a pack of serial killer baseball cards or something. Most unsettling. But I charmed them by telling them it was the very same volcano dress worn by Cleopatra at her coronation.”

Tessa giggled. “They were amazed! So amazed they declared me Queen of All Real Estate Agents! They held my coronation immediately. I still have the ceremonial gold jacket at home.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

If the Mime My Brother was Wrestling With had Any Hope of Escape

  • by jenbetter take cover
  • “Should I put my shoes back on?”
  • mere pinpricks
  • orgies are poorly designed experiments
  • use it in a rap song

Tune in next time part 421      Click Here for Earlier Installments

If the mime my brother was wrestling with had any hope of escape, she’d better take covert action, but mimes in general aren’t that well-trained tactically. This one was no exception. She soon took a needle to the neck and slumped in Jim’s arms.

Jem and Jem introduced some new steps to their writhing cobra yoga, circling around the herd of mimes and bunching them together like livestock. Working in unison like lithe corgis, they danced the group into the supply closet and slammed the door behind them.

“Finally,” said Jemma.

“Should I put my shoes back on?” asked Jemima.

“No need,”Jim drawled. “This is a pretty good place to hide out for a while.”

“Anyone want to untie me?” I asked. In truth my tape bonds were loose enough that I could escape if necessary, but I wanted to see how my siblings would treat me now that the mime threat had been neutralized. Were their consciences more than mere pinpricks?

Clyde was still in my lap, still “woofing” at me. Jim scooped him up and put him in a cage that had probably once held an army of lab rats. Jemma got a scalpel from a dissecting tray and began sawing through all the tape around my wrists. At least she was on my side.

Jemima, still barefoot, was reading the lab notes splayed on the worktop. She snorted. “Mime orgies are poorly designed experiments. No scientific rigor! Look at this.” She waved the disturbingly detailed sketches in my face. “What do you think Jason? Can you use it in a rap song?”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Unlike My Twin, Who Was America’s #1 Wedding Rapper

  • by jendisliked attending weddings
  • invited a tyrant
  • the scent of roses
  • you never know when something like that could be true
  • need a longer snake

Tune in next time part 407      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Unlike my twin, who was America’s #1 wedding rapper, I disliked attending weddings. I avoided them whenever I could, and there were many times I wished I could have avoided my own, since it invited a tyrant of a father-in-law into my life. Fleur and I had married at the White House, and the scent of roses always reminded me of those long, long days of Contrarian ceremony in the Rose Garden with the Warlord glowering at me. I bring this up to illustrate how different Jason and I were on a fundamental level. I tried to explain to Tatiana that while the stars might think I was a suitable substitute, she really ought to think things over before jumping into parenthood with me. I ended my speech with, “There are so many cautionary tales about evil twins, and you never know when something like that could be true.”

But she just smiled at me and said, “You’re both evil in your own way, and right now I just need your DNA.”

While I’d speechified, Myndilynn had somehow gotten Mingus off the crystal throne, leaving it free. They stood off to the side, both nodding coquettishly. Tatiana began a short, sultry strip tease that quickly got my attention. By the end of it we were both nude. She reached for my Little General and said, “It looks like I don’t need a longer snake charmer’s dance. Shall we?” And she seated me on the throne and climbed atop.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Far Above the Heads of the Dancing Ladies

  • by jenhandcuffed to the table
  • you know that’s not allowed
  • I’m not a machine
  • now she was all sweet decorum
  • I wish I could sing like that

Tune in next time part 66                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Far above the heads of the dancing ladies, the pianist was strapped to his bench, playing what I now recognized as a Chopin etude. He sang along, his voice as striking as his red hair. I wish I could sing like that crazy upside down man, but my talents lie in other areas.

Svetlana stared at the tableau, transfixed. I heard her sigh and reminded myself that even if now she was all sweet decorum she was a very dangerous woman. I led her into the darkened recesses of the warehouse, away from the stage and its peculiar performers.

I didn’t know exactly, or even roughly, where we were, and Svetlana refused to tell me. I frisked her, hoping to find a phone, but all I found under her leotard was her blowgun and a tube of chapstick. My hands lingered on her narrow hips.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to make me horny,” Svetlana purred. “I’m not a machine.” She leaned in for a kiss, her arms still bound behind her back.

“You know that’s not allowed,” I said. “You’re my captive.”

“That never stopped you before,” she pouted. “Last time I was handcuffed to the table.”

“That was recreational. Today it’s business.”

 

bonus points for using them in reverse order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Heinrich Began to Get Up

  • by Kentkeep hearing your name
  • “It’s an honour!”
  • Jeepers creepers!
  • all that glitters is gold
  • danced on the ceiling

Tune in next time part 65                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Heinrich began to get up off the floor, but in a flash Svetlana leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his neck. His face purpled instantly from the pressure. Meanwhile, Aphrodite still had a mouthful of toxic sea life keeping her from breathing.

I picked up the pistol from where Aphrodite had dropped it. My sense of fair play gave me conflicting impulses, dual ways of balancing the outcomes for these three villains. I could probably save both Heinrich and Aphrodite by subduing Svetlana, or I could wait another few minutes until the pirates expired and then polish off the contortionist.

I knew no one here deserved mercy or salvation, but I knew also that I’d be forever haunted by evil dreams, the kind where you keep hearing your name echoing from charnel vaults, if I took part in their deaths so callously.

Plucking the jellyfish from Aphrodite’s tongue, I aimed the gun at Svetlana’s head and said, “Off.” I had to cock the hammer to make my point, but she released Heinrich and took a step back. “Heinrich,” I said, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the classic jellyfish-sting antidote? She needs it quick, at the site of the injury.” He gulped, massaging his throat, and nodded. “Then she’ll probably need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” I added with a smirk.

“It’s an honour!” he said chokingly, with an unexpectedly British inflection. Sliding up alongside his wife’s head, he began undoing his belt.

“Jeepers creepers!” Svetlana cried. I held the gun on her and made her watch the lifesaving treatment for a few minutes before chivvying her out the warehouse’s enormous front door. I swung it shut again, then ordered Svetlana to shift some nearby oil drums to block it. Meanwhile I located some discarded electrical wiring, which I used to bind her wrists when she was done with her assignment. Her face was ashen, her eyes unfocused. Some things cannot be unseen.

“Steady now,” I said. “Like they say, all that glitters is gold. What you just learned is, not all that’s gold glitters. And some of it smells pretty rank.” She looked on the verge of fainting.

I surveyed our surroundings. All the nearby buildings were indistinguishable from the one we’d just left. Hot sun blazed down on us. I directed Svetlana across the alleyway to the next massive building and pulled its door open.

Guiding her inside, I heard music. The interior mostly lay in darkness, except for a rectangular area at the far end. A bizarre orchard of glowing crystal illuminated that area, with a grand piano suspended upside down far above. I nudged Svetlana with the gun and we slowly moved toward what I realized were inverted chandeliers, mesmerized by the sumptuous shimmering gowns worn by a trio of ladies as they danced on the ceiling that had been created for them.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!