![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Writing Wednesday round up
Feb. 26th, 2020 10:45 am3 sentence fics again this month!
Milo
He prowled silently across the room to where she slept, his black coat rendering him almost invisible in the darkened room.
He paused a moment, assessing his target, before he leapt onto her.
“Milo,” she murmured as he pressed into the crook of her legs, happily tucked himself up behind her knees, and began to purr.
Everyday Magic
Throw a coin into a well, blow out a birthday candle, pick up a pin. Small acts of superstition? Yes, but also they are small acts of magic that brighten an otherwise mundane world.
Monsters
"I only kill monsters," the Hunter says, refusing the handful of pennies the young girl in the faded dress is clutching.
Her eyes fill with tears and she persists that surely the reason he's come to her village is to help her, reiterates that Mother's new man is a monster, that he's hurting Mother, that her eye is blackened and there are bruises on her neck like he was trying to choke her soul from her.
"I only kill monsters," the Hunter repeats with a sigh as he walks away, but this much is true: neither he nor Mother's new man were ever seen in the village again.
Mr Wrong and Maybe Mr Right
When Mike yelled at her, "Stop hugging that damn cat, it'll never love you like I do!" while she held Cinnamon close and kissed his nose, his purrs reverberating against her chest, he sealed his fate.
Anyone that jealous of her affection, anyone that hateful towards Cinnamon, wasn't someone she could trust or love, definitely a Mr Wrong.
When Ben first came to her house and greeted Cinnamon with a smile, and Cinnamon pawed at him, wanting to be picked up, she smiled as Ben scooped up the cat and cooed at him; this one might be Mr Right.
Milo
He prowled silently across the room to where she slept, his black coat rendering him almost invisible in the darkened room.
He paused a moment, assessing his target, before he leapt onto her.
“Milo,” she murmured as he pressed into the crook of her legs, happily tucked himself up behind her knees, and began to purr.
Everyday Magic
Throw a coin into a well, blow out a birthday candle, pick up a pin. Small acts of superstition? Yes, but also they are small acts of magic that brighten an otherwise mundane world.
Monsters
"I only kill monsters," the Hunter says, refusing the handful of pennies the young girl in the faded dress is clutching.
Her eyes fill with tears and she persists that surely the reason he's come to her village is to help her, reiterates that Mother's new man is a monster, that he's hurting Mother, that her eye is blackened and there are bruises on her neck like he was trying to choke her soul from her.
"I only kill monsters," the Hunter repeats with a sigh as he walks away, but this much is true: neither he nor Mother's new man were ever seen in the village again.
Mr Wrong and Maybe Mr Right
When Mike yelled at her, "Stop hugging that damn cat, it'll never love you like I do!" while she held Cinnamon close and kissed his nose, his purrs reverberating against her chest, he sealed his fate.
Anyone that jealous of her affection, anyone that hateful towards Cinnamon, wasn't someone she could trust or love, definitely a Mr Wrong.
When Ben first came to her house and greeted Cinnamon with a smile, and Cinnamon pawed at him, wanting to be picked up, she smiled as Ben scooped up the cat and cooed at him; this one might be Mr Right.
