a traveler from an antique land

Now, come over here and listen to your old Gran for a minute. You may think I spent my whole life sitting in this old house doing my knitting and cleaning up after your dad, but I’ve got news for you: I used to be quite the adventurer, back in the old days. You don’t believe me, but I’ve had more amazing experiences than you could dream of, and if you’ll sit still a minute, I’ll tell you one.

It was back when I was doing work with the Institute, hunting down legendary treasures with a crack squad of adventurers. You should’ve seen all the trouble we got ourselves into--

All right, Miss Smarty, you have me. Mostly, I did paper work: following trails of clues, solving ancient riddles, researching long-lost civilizations. No, I didn’t get into the field much, but neither would my team if it hadn’t been for me. If you’re quite done with your questions, I’d like to continue.

Thank you.

We’d just got wind of something amazing, a mythical ancient box filled with the mysteries of the universe. For the longest time, nobody had the faintest idea where it was hidden, but we received word it could be found in a recently-discovered set of catacombs deep in the Great Mountains, and you can bet we were on it in a thrice. The Institute even brought in a specialist, a Dr. Susan Jane Smith, to join the team. It wasn’t often then that you found a woman in the business those days. ( Maybe it was because of her I convinced the higher-ups to let me have a go in the field- )


Community: theatrical_muse
Prompt: 230 - Black and White
Word Count: 1240
Author's Note: In my head, the (younger version of!) narrator is played by Rachel Weisz ala The Mummy (nudge nudge wink wink girl_doctor.

It was a dark night- moonless, foggy. The kind of night where you could barely see your flipper two inches from your face, even if you were wearing one of those radioactive Hawaiian shirts. The kind of night for whispered secrets and mysterious packages handed off by tall men in overcoats.

My name is Frobisher. The sign on my office door says ‘Prvt nvstgtr’. It would say Private Investigator, but my last case didn’t go so well and I had to hock a few vowels.

Private investigator’s the dressed-up job description. What I am is a spy, a snoop, a bloodhound of the underworld, a penguin with pizzazz. When Little Bo Beep lost her sheep, I’m the guy she went to. When Little Red Riding Hood needed someone to look into the untimely death of her dear old grandmother, she came to me. And when you need someone to ferret through your trash cans, I’m the PI who’ll ferret for clues- for the right price.

( That’s what I was doing that night. Ferreting through a trash can. It’s not what you’d call a glamourous job, but someone’s gotta do it. )

Community: theatrical_muse
Prompt: 203 - Intrigue
Word Count: 876
Note: ...Part 2/?.

It was sunny and nauseatingly bright outside. He shifted his position on the bench. He should’ve told Shana he was sick. It wouldn’t have been a lie; his head hurt like the morning after. He thought wistfully that a night before would have been fun, but he was sure there hadn’t been one to speak of. He had very clear memories of a night spent hitting the books with a cup of coffee and a lamp with a bulb that kept burning out for his company.

Just a bloody headache, run-of-the-mill and average. He clutched his head. ‘Take your niece out for a walk to the park, Mike.’ Right, Shan, he thought bitterly. Take your little monster out of the flat for you so you can spend some quality time with your pig of a boyfriend.

Where was Alice, anyway? He squinted at the playground. Who let all the kids in? How was he supposed to tell which was his? Where the hell had she got to? He left the bench behind, searching the recreation ground and panicking. She wasn’t on the slides, the seesaw, or the monkey bars. He pictured her wandering into the street to play, easy prey for a passing car. He resisted the urge to randomly grab kids and spin them around so he could see their faces. Wouldn’t look good.

“Want another sweetie!” screeched a voice pitched high enough to shatter nearby windows. He clutched his head again and ran towards the voice. Alice.

( Random Encounters of the Third Kind )


Community: oncoming_storms
Prompt: 1.5, Appearances Can Be Deceiving
Word Count: 775
Warning: There be a bit of swearing here.