• secret network of spies
• standard practice to have a pig diagram tattooed on your body
• … well, your friend, really
• I touched his arm that day in the park
• glued to your head

Tune in next time part 788      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Aztec twelve-step was thought by many to be a myth, but those of us in the business knew it was the initiation protocol of a very secret network of spies, like, even more secret than a regular spy network. Steps one through eleven were not too hard to track down, but of course the twelfth and final step was the one for all the marbles.

“That still doesn’t explain your escape,” I said.

“Well you see, it enabled me to become initiated, and the secret network released me so I could go on my first mission for them.” Tessa’s eyes became evasive. “I never completed that mission, so now I’m considered a defector.”

“Teach me the twelfth and final step,” I said. “Then maybe I can clear your name.”

She shook her head, but then she scrunched her forehead and stared at me. “All I can tell you right now is, for male initiates, it’s standard practice to have a pig diagram tattooed on your body.” She smirked. “We could kill two birds with one needle, if you let me ink you… well, your friend really… with that design.”

“No deal,” I said. “I want to help you out, but not like that.”

She gazed off into the distance. “If only I’d known where it would all lead, when I touched his arm that day in the park.”

“Whose arm?”

“I didn’t know it was him until later: the Silent One, the Prime Mime. It was an honest mistake! I was distracted. You would be too, if you had a xylophone glued to your head.”

“Why was there…” I trailed off. I knew she wasn’t going to tell me.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

• wearing a diamond wedding band
• seeing it swing upon its huge hinges
• casually raised his wrist to his mouth
• recognized from my childhood
• “I’ll show you, you silly ass!”

Tune in next time part 508      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The tattoo was quite unmistakable, but still I squinted twice at his face to be sure it was really the same man. The last time we met, he’d been wearing a diamond wedding band, but today his fingers were ringless.

A gigantic stone door at the other end of the chamber opened. It made no sound, but seeing it swing upon its huge hinges and smelling the warm spring breeze it admitted caused me to realize that I didn’t know where I was. This room had no plush yetis, no crib, and no Jason.

“Where have you taken me, Brady?”

Brady casually raised his wrist to his mouth to fog the crystal of his expensive watch before polishing it on his jeans. He said nothing, but wore a smug expression that made me mad enough to accelerate my recovery from the drugged darts. I wobbled to my feet, staring at his chest tattoo, at the three-by-three grid of faces I recognized from my childhood. When Brady flexed his pecs and rippled his abs, the family members winked and nodded lewdly. The effect was off-putting and I could see why his marriage hadn’t worked.

And then I noticed that the face in the center of the pattern was one that didn’t go with the show. It was a stranger’s face. Had Brady’s tattoo always been like that? Or was this some kind of recent revision? And what did it mean?

“Well?” I demanded. “Are you going to tell me where I am?”

“I’ll show you, you silly ass!”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!