Here’s your prompt. What sort of story could you unearth from this gold mine of ideas? What? You don’t think this is very much? Huh. I bet that hedgehog would disagree, IF IT’S REALLY A HEDGEHOG!
You know how this works. You get 100 words, exactly, to tell your best story. Drop it in the comments or write it up at your own web site and link back to us, please. We can’t wait to read your stories!
(Photo Credit: amayaeguizabal on Pixabay)
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Sonic and Spike were young, adorable hedgehogs who traveled from Texas to California in a big rig. The trucker which bred hedgehogs in Texas sold them to my trucker husband.
He bought them for our son and daughter (about seven and nine years old then) who ended up naming them those perfect names.
They lived with us for a while until it seemed best that we take them to the Wildlife Waystation who said they’ll live out their lives there.
We found out they’re illegal in CA. They needed better care and handling. I loved their cute faces!! ??
I thought Rinaldo was lying about this new drug, then a hedgehog waddled over to me on the bar, bummed a smoke, and ordered us each a gin fizz. It was silky and benign, but it made me itch.
“Thanks—let me guess—Spike?”
Hedgehogs can apparently roll their eyes.
He blew a smoke ring and lapped his fizz. “It’s Percy. After the novelist. Walker Percy.”
“Never heard of him.” I searched Amazon on my phone and bought LOVE IN THE RUINS to read later. “Wait, how can I be hallucinating a novelist I never heard of?
“You’re not hallucinating.”
“One more lap. One more race. I can do this,” Photic thought to himself. He had lived in his brother’s shadows for decades. He wanted to be fast. He wanted the attention. He wanted to be loved.
Sonic had all the glory. Sonic had all the fame. Sonic had all the attention from Mom and Dad.
Photic deserved better. He was intelligent. He was funny. He was great at parties. But he wasn’t blue, he wasn’t fast.
“I can do this,” Photic said aloud this time. “Just a few more laps. Strengthen my legs. I know I can do this.”
Oh, good, I’m glad you’re here. Listen, they’re coming. You have to warn everyone! You must find a way to protect your planet from them. Who? The Narflings! Who are the Narf- every time… The Narflings are an ancient race from Losamua in the Jute Galaxy. I know about them because I am one. Or, I was. I was imprisoned for trying to warn your planet about their impending invasion. They turned me into this ridiculous woodland creature and sent me here as punishment because they knew no human would ever listen to a hedge- Wait! Where are you going?