This week truly brought the “random” out of our random prompt generators:
- Character: Llama rancher
- Object: Deck of cards
- Genre/Tone: Mystery/Fantasy
So, I’m really not sure what to make of this story myself. I’ll just say, Megan and I are thinking of making T-shirts that say, “All the llamas knew better than to engage in fortune telling or necromancy of any kind.”
If you feel like following this writing exercise yourself, feel free! Let us know what you come up with by posting the story (or a link to it) in the comments! And till then, well, keep focused on the present.
Ezekiel moseyed over to where her ranching partner Gerey was leaning on the twisted wood-and-vine fence that enclosed the small llama pen. She brushed the loose fleece from her vest and dungarees and coughed the musk of the llamas out of her lungs as she approached.
“What do we do with all this?” Gerey asked, her hand open to the bloodied corpses of three llamas laying among the scattered tarot cards on the dust of the small pen.
Ezekiel shook her head. “We can’t let this happen again, is all I know.”
Gerey looked over at her. “Any of them other llamas say anything?”
“Nope.” Ezekiel spat on the ground. “Kept quiet and hung their heads.”
“Think we should ask ’em straight out?”
Ezekiel bobbed her head toward the large pen where she’d herded the rest of the llamas. The ones that weren’t dead. “Welcome to try it ’f you like.” For herself, she stared at the scene before her, and particularly at the tableau of tarot cards. It was hard to tell which cards had been dealt out and which had just scattered after the shooting began, but all the llamas knew better than to engage in fortune telling or necromancy of any kind.
While Gerey shuffled over to the large pen, Ezekiel turned her attention to the gun. It was a three-shot revolver, modified for llama use, with a hoof grip and a mouth trigger. But the chamber and barrel were far enough away from both grip and trigger that any residue from the shot would be scattered among all the llamas who’d been in the pen. Still, whoever had such a weapon must have planned it out, smuggled it into the pen, and therefore this was no crime of passion. These murders were premeditated.
Finally, Ezekiel opened the gate and stepped into the small pen. She crouched next to the dead llamas: one who was reading the cards and the other two, young llamas who maybe were considering mating together. Sure. And the male had been caught consulting with this tarot reader before. With a different female llama that time.
Ezekiel straightened up and crossed the muddy path to the large pen where Gerey was listening and nodding as one of the older llamas wept openly on her shoulder. “Hey, talked to Samantha yet?”
Gerey shook her head. “Nope. She’s over there, though.”
Ezekiel pushed her way through the herd till she sidled up to the tawny female llama. “Hey there, Sam.”
Samantha crooked her neck around and stared into Ezekiel’s eyes for a moment. “Well, sheepdung,” said the llama. “Figured it out, did you?”
Ezekiel shrugged. “Knowing the future’s bad for all of us, Sam. Sorry you had to find out the hard way.” Then she wrapped a collar on Samantha and led her away.