Ancient Geometry

[ieune]

Title: Ancient Geometry
Challenge/Prompt: Symbol
Original fic
Rating: G
Warnings: ~~
Disclaimer: Mine own.
Author's Notes: I had a go at something original as I was too chicken to post the fanfic ones I'd written to this prompt.

When she finds the sacred well, this curious visitor, she isn’t alone. A man of indeterminate age is seated by the rim, limbs folded into the classical lotus position, eyes closed.

She wonders whether his meditation has achieved the proper state of no-mind or if he’s attuning himself to cosmic vibrations.

The wooden well cover is raised. Peering down, the cold glitter of water is deeper than she’d imagined. There are ferns growing between the lining stones, reaching up to the light. Surprising.

Her eyes trace the two decorated interlocking circles that form a design claimed as ancient. She wonders.

To Say Never

[zopyrus]

Title: To Say Never
Challenge/Prompt: Symbol
Original Fiction
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: my story
Summary: She's the only person he can't just tell a joke to.


Most of my friends were older than me, so they knew already. Or they were very young, like my nephew, and only wanted a tale before bed.

Hippothoe asked because nobody had explained it well enough. My brave sister, proud of me, but jealous too, wanted to know what it was like to fight in a war.

Poets use metaphors to say what can’t be said, and they don’t ever lose their words.  (But to say “never” is to make a thing happen.)  I stood before her, tongue-tied like a child, trying to tell her something more than a story.

Leave the Key

[sinsyne]

Title: Leave the Key
Challenge/Prompt: Symbol
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original Fiction
Characters: Cynthia, Jonathan
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: All mine.
Summary: Her family hadn't been hateful, simply distant and devoid of love.
Author's Notes: Having written nothing but lengthy essays and epic hero stories for the past few weeks, 100 words was a bit of a shock.

“That’s the last one,” she muttered, depositing the heavy, cardboard box in the hallway.

With some degree of longing, she surveyed her room, barren, save for the furniture –bed, desk, bookshelves- of her childhood.

It was furniture she intended to leave behind, with everything personal already neatly packed in boxes and luggage bags. She wanted a bright future and happy memories, something this house could never provide. Her family hadn't been hateful, simply distant and devoid of love.

“Cyn! You ready?” Jonathan hollered from downstairs.

“Coming!”

Smiling wistfully, she exited the room, leaving her house key on the white dresser.

Branded / Family Mark

[ieune]

Title: Branded
Challenge/Prompt: Symbol
Fanfiction: Potterverse.
Own character.
Rating: G
Warnings: ~~
Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR. Napier is mine.
Summary: “In the light of the feral situation, Emergency Ministry Statute Number 147 to be enacted: all Registered werewolves to be taken up and branded. Any werewolf found not so branded will be assumed feral and put down.”
Author's Notes: Set during ‘Deathly Hallows’.

He’d known they were outside his sanctuary. The scent of flesh biteriptear so close drove him mad, chained to the wall. Gasping back his right mind post-transformation they don’t give him chance to get his wand but it takes both of them to subdue him.

“By order of Senior Under Secretary Umbridge—”

Red faces, panting garlic breath.

Impotent under the Full Body Bind, he glares defiance at death.

“Werewolf, registered, number eighty-one, to be branded this day.”

A wand tip presses to his scratched forearm, presses hard and doesn’t relent until the tattoo burns black; a wolf’s head, howling.

~~~

Title: Family Mark
Challenge/Prompt: Symbol
Fanfiction: Harry Potter
Own character.
Rating: G
Warnings: ~~
Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR. Marcus is mine.
Summary: The shipwright puts the finishing touches to the Cutter's carved garboard.
Author's Notes: Marcus is Jèrriais (born and lives on the Channel Island of Jersey) and speaks Jersey Norman French, hence some not-quite-French-looking spellings.

Guided by skilled fingers, the gouge bites into the seasoned wood. With each nibble, each a little deeper than the last, the flat pencil lines take on dimensional form. Memories come unbidden as he works; P’pèe’s hands guiding this same gouge, shaping each delicate curve, undercutting just enough to create a semblance of reality in this identifying mark. Twelve generations of his family have used this flower to mark possessions or identify their work since Estin D’Caën quit Nouormandy in his drakkar to settle new lands. Last of his bloodline, Marcus blows away the swarf and smiles. Another perfect anemone.