RS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist#PennedPossibilities 994 — Did any of your characters have a favorite comfort item as a child? If so, at what age did they stop using it? Do they still have it?
The devil-girl has a book. It may be Merchant Duck's Codicils and Interlocutory Physics, 3rd Extended Edition.1 I'll have to check my notes. The 19th edition had been redacted heavily by the Directorate, so the devil-girl instantly fell in love when she accidentally kicked the doorstop in her library and found the decaying double-sized primer under the hardened grime, masquerading as a brick. She's never checked, but suspects it is a banned book, but even so it ought be worth at least 10 years basic income on the black market to the right buyer.
She had been given the library to satiate her interest in Thaumaturgy, perhaps the best stocked library in the world, but in her teens she ran away and couldn't take much with her.
She chose Merchant Duck's.
It clicked with how she thought, made her think she could do all those things she kept failing at—only the most arcane complex things because easy things are simply too boring to learn. If she only studied hard enough! She has traveled across the continent with it now, homeless a lot of the time or employed by questionable people who know how to entice her with her quirks, but she'll be the first to admit it, asked: She sleeps with that 500 year old book like a plush rabbit. She reads it until she falls asleep and it is covered with drool stains. It smells of her sweat and that old book mustiness.
She did clean it up before sleeping with it!!!
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1 The title can be found in this tootfic, but I think she has had it from the beginning: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/109826357405137553
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
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RS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@[email protected])
**Where Most Comfortable** by RS * @[email protected] Well, it was a #writingPrompt, so I wrote something that might not ever otherwise appear in print. #1stdraft. Sorry if a bit rough. I pushed open the door to the walkup, then had to push harder. I guess the difficulty substituted for lack of a lock. As the door creaked open, I jerked my head back at the scent of urine. The hard-to-open door proved useless again today. I thumped up the steps two at a time, up four flights, lit by my blue-green sprite and wan nightshine through broken dirty windows. Nobody greeted me; perhaps nobody would except in fullshine as, though I looked like a student, I was also one of those shady characters, despite being reasonably girlish and almost pretty. Perhaps I radiated it.Perhaps the thaumlume sprite floating before me was too perfect, bright, and discomforting. A rare talent. Which was why I was a student. I'd just finished a job, too. The idiot would pay back his loan; all I'd had to perform were minor miracles and pyrotechnics that frightened the angel from flying away. Hadn't had to hurt anyone. It was my deal with the boss. I'd be his most efficient enforcer so long as I didn't have to hurt anyone, and I hadn't. The night angel could have fought, and I'd have defended myself and felt bad about the mess afterwards. Well, a little bad. Maybe. I'd been flush with gold from the job, which is why I was happy to be home. Tea and scones with plenty of butter in my tummy, I pushed open my door. No lock, but you guessed that, right? I felt a field-tingle passing through, which verified nobody had been so stupid as to enter while I was gone, but I threw the slide bolt behind me. It guaranteed people having to barge in loudly if they wanted to confront me, giving me time to *defend* myself. I'd torn off all the wallpaper, leaving stained lath and plaster which to me seemed like a new-art wash of dun and grey that was both pleasing and calming. I'd spent days sanding, filling, and varnishing the partially rotted and distressed floorboards—could it be pine? It was mud color, so the knots were barely a clue. I had a table, similarly refurbished by me, and a periwinkle china wash basin I'd glued back together. No sense on spending anything except on books, food, and rent as far as I was concerned. Beyond that, and the oval window, was my stack of hay. I inhaled. It smelled fresh, since I'd brought it yesterday, and it reminded me of not-city. It combined with the scent of the trash fire at the end of the block. I heard kids laughing and talking. Kids? They were older than me, but they hadn't been other people's sharp tool so my years counted double! At least. I still liked the burnt smell. City incense, right? I grinned, dropping my book bag. I dug out my new tome. Leatherbacked. Gilt lettering. Rare and delightfully musty. *Merchant Ducket's Codicils and Interlocutory Physics, 3rd Extended Edition*. The 19th had been redacted heavily by the Directorate. It cost plenty, but nothing made me happier than warping reality, and I really did love the math. It never hurt when something in your head helped you do the arithmetic! I fluffed the hay up, snuggled into it despite the initial itchiness against my skin. I started reading, figuring I could finish my homework later. I'd *earned* this. Lit by my sprite and the nightshine that over the next hours passed across the open book, I read and learned new stuff. Eventually, I had to stretch. That revealed a familiar blue envelope. *Right*. The window had been open and I usually closed it. Bolt, the boss' day angel runner had dropped it in. An urgent job, doubtless. Lots of gold. Foo on that. I swiped it away. Let the boss try to make me work extra. Wouldn't end well. I went to sleep, hugging the book like a plush rabbit. [Author retains copyright] #writing #author #sff #fantasy #story #shortfiction #minifiction #flashfiction #suddenfiction < 750 words #writingLife #boostingIsSharing.