prompt for April 3rd - Sneakers/Harry Potter
Because what's the fun of taking a prompt at its face value? XD
(For those looking for more/context... well, pretty much everything I've done so far is posted to this comm from my backlog of January prompts. They're saved in something resembling chronological order here.)
Prompt for April 03:
Write about your mother's cooking.
They spread out as best as possible to try to get a feel for the house, and they're slowly reconvening in the kitchen. Mother set himself to going through the pantry, partly because he can probably handle cursed food (if there is any), given the state his fridge is in half the time.
Well, all right, three-quarters of the time.
But there's not really anything to speak of in the pantry, cursed or otherwise; it's almost disappointing, in a way. He's taking what looks like a box of tea leaves over to the table when Carl comes in and drops into one of the chairs.
"I really hope we can get to a hardware store at some point."
Mother raises an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"That goddamn screaming portrait in the front hallway. If we can't duct-tape those curtains on it shut, or something, it's gotta come down before it drives us all insane - especially since I'm pretty sure it's not being polite. And I think it's stuck to the wall, so we're probably talking massive property destruction here."
"Which wouldn't be so bad, really, if one of us could fix it as quickly as whoever built this place."
"Even so, I'd almost rather put up with a draft than all that screaming." Carl sighs. "The duct tape's probably the best plan, but first we'll need to get some."
Crease comes in not long after. "I think those kids were staying here. The place has seen use recently, anyway, but it's not clean enough to be anything consistent."
"If they were here, I want to know what the hell they were eating. You'd think there'd be something in the pantry..." Mother's not really expecting either of them to catch the second sentence, since he's trying to check the far reaches of the pantry without the benefit of electrical lighting, and flashlights can only do so much.
"Maybe they ate all of it before they left," Carl points out.
"I don't know about that - Bishop said they left in a hurry, as far as he could tell. It's possible they were getting food as they went along, but I don't know why they'd do that if they're supposed to be on the run." He emerges from the pantry with what looks to be some salted beef. "Hey, maybe if I can find something to go with this, I could make--"
"No," Carl and Crease say at the same time.
"But I--"
"I've seen the inside of your fridge before," Carl says. "If I'm lucky, I'll forget it before I die. You are not cooking."
Crease eyes the beef for a moment. "And I doubt any of us would want to deal with the after-effects of eating that, whatever they may be. We'll be better off doing our own shopping."
(For those looking for more/context... well, pretty much everything I've done so far is posted to this comm from my backlog of January prompts. They're saved in something resembling chronological order here.)
Prompt for April 03:
Write about your mother's cooking.
They spread out as best as possible to try to get a feel for the house, and they're slowly reconvening in the kitchen. Mother set himself to going through the pantry, partly because he can probably handle cursed food (if there is any), given the state his fridge is in half the time.
Well, all right, three-quarters of the time.
But there's not really anything to speak of in the pantry, cursed or otherwise; it's almost disappointing, in a way. He's taking what looks like a box of tea leaves over to the table when Carl comes in and drops into one of the chairs.
"I really hope we can get to a hardware store at some point."
Mother raises an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"That goddamn screaming portrait in the front hallway. If we can't duct-tape those curtains on it shut, or something, it's gotta come down before it drives us all insane - especially since I'm pretty sure it's not being polite. And I think it's stuck to the wall, so we're probably talking massive property destruction here."
"Which wouldn't be so bad, really, if one of us could fix it as quickly as whoever built this place."
"Even so, I'd almost rather put up with a draft than all that screaming." Carl sighs. "The duct tape's probably the best plan, but first we'll need to get some."
Crease comes in not long after. "I think those kids were staying here. The place has seen use recently, anyway, but it's not clean enough to be anything consistent."
"If they were here, I want to know what the hell they were eating. You'd think there'd be something in the pantry..." Mother's not really expecting either of them to catch the second sentence, since he's trying to check the far reaches of the pantry without the benefit of electrical lighting, and flashlights can only do so much.
"Maybe they ate all of it before they left," Carl points out.
"I don't know about that - Bishop said they left in a hurry, as far as he could tell. It's possible they were getting food as they went along, but I don't know why they'd do that if they're supposed to be on the run." He emerges from the pantry with what looks to be some salted beef. "Hey, maybe if I can find something to go with this, I could make--"
"No," Carl and Crease say at the same time.
"But I--"
"I've seen the inside of your fridge before," Carl says. "If I'm lucky, I'll forget it before I die. You are not cooking."
Crease eyes the beef for a moment. "And I doubt any of us would want to deal with the after-effects of eating that, whatever they may be. We'll be better off doing our own shopping."