And here are all the drabbles that I considered too short to be posted individually.
Prompt 5: Taste is often neglected in stories. Write a story about taste.
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Every night, the food was renewed. Every night, the table was filled with perfectly roasted meats, warm and hearty bread, sweetly melting iced creams, cool ripe fruits of every description, fine nuts both in and out of shell, pies and cakes and tea and chocolate and drafts of fresh strong wine to gladden a sailor's heart.
But all Pittencream could think was that every mother's son of them would see the end of the world, except for him, and every mouthful tasted of nothing but resentment.
Prompt 6: Words! book-words! what are you? Words no more, for hearken and see, My song is there in the open air—and I must sing, With the banner and pennant a-flapping. (Walt Whitman)
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The apple was the loveliest thing she had ever seen, somehow more bright and more real than everything else around it. Its beautifully wild scent wrapped around her, easing her mind. Its brightly silver light shone about her, easing her spirit. Its sweetly tart flesh slid effortlessly down her throat, easing her body. Soothed by the pure goodness of the fruit, she slipped into quiet sleep.
Mabel Kirke would look back on that moment many times over the next month, and each time she remembered that strange and wonderful apple, she grew a little stronger.
Prompt 18: T[ell] a tale from the perspective of the Tashlan side in The Last Battle.
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His part was simple. Ginger the Cat had only to enter the stable, wait a suitable time, and then come out and wax eloquent about the wonder and terror of the "Tashlan" that did not exist. Thus they would keep the other Beasts cowed and the Calormenes' plan on schedule. He minced his way primly through the door, purring with anticipation.
Something was there.
And then there was no Ginger, for names can properly attach only to those with reason, and the cat fled yowling with all its fur on end.
Prompt 28: Tell of a time one of the Four acted out the adjective attached to their titles—Magnificent, Gentle, Just, or Valiant.
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Their reign would later be called the Golden Age, and for good reason. But that did not mean there were never troubles. Many were the nights that Peter sat awake, examining and re-examining the day's proposals by candlelight, considering and re-considering actions to take. Sometimes he would simply lean forward, rest his head on his arms, and weep that he could not draw all Narnia to his heart and hold it there in safety.
