SundayLit 2: Great Conversations
Here is the second group of #SundayLit stories (the first story is available here). For those unfamiliar with the concept, they are stories written based on a specific prompt which is posted each Sunday on Mastodon. While everyone gets to chose how they respond, all four of my stories take the form of a dialogue, which I found really fun to do. They were previously posted on my @skribe@aus.social account each Sunday from 26th October, 2025 until 16th November, 2025.
Enjoy
Table of Contents
- SundayLit Prompt: The Mentor
- SundayLit Prompt: Geography
- SundayLit Prompt: Physical appearance
- SundayLit Prompt: Unexpected
SundayLit Prompt: The Mentor
“The shock collar. It’s just for show.”
“Ow!”
“Mostly.”
“It hurts!”
“What have you learnt?”
“That you’re a bast- owwwwwwwww!”
“Try again.”
“That’s you’re a vindictive bastard!”
“And?”
“Owwwww.”
“AND?”
“Trust nobody.”
“Very good. In the next lesson, we’ll harness the plug of doom.”
“Ow!”
“Hahaha. I love that.”
SundayLit Prompt: Geography
“What if we call it, something like, Earth-writing, but in Greek. Isn’t that how it’s done?”
“Do you mean geography, sir?”
“See! That’s it. Geo…gee…it’s a nice big word.”
“Geography already means something, sir.”
“Well, change it. I have full immunity. I can do what I like.”
“It would confuse the children.”
“Let me tell you about child- er. No, I’m not allowed to talk about that.”
“Maybe if the monument was bigger, sir.”
“Our country is by far the largest in the world. It’s so big. So very, very big.”
“But it’s not earth-sized. So it can’t be geography.”
“It could be. We have the largest army. We could invade-”
“Lithography?”
“That’s a big word. I like big words. Lith…lisso…lezzo-”
“Lithography. Stone writing.”
“I like that. My name written in stone across the-”
“The problem is that most of the country isn’t made of stone, sir. We’d need to import it from Canada or Mexico.”
“No, no. I definitely don’t want to have to deal-”
“What if we wait until winter, sir. Then, you write your name in the snow. All the way from the North West to Maine.”
“What would we call that?”
“We could make something up. For instance, niphography?.”
“That’s another big word. Is it Greek? Niffo…nympho-”
“It’d take a lot of piss, sir.”
“Oh, I’m full of piss. I have more piss than anyone. I could just piss for hours if I needed to-”
“But that would just include the North, sir. What we need is something the covers the entire country. From the Pacific, to the Atlantic. From Mexico, to Canada.”
“Oh, I love the cover the entire country. I have the biggest coverage ever. Much more than Canada. Nobody has more cover-”
“I’ve got it, sir! Rhypography1! It’s Greek and it fits perfectly.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Keep doing what you’re doing, sir.”
SundayLit Prompt: Physical appearance
“He was massive, in exactly the same way that a mountain is tall…except without the snow on top. He had no hair at all. His shoulders…they were massive also. You could land a 747 on each of them without using reverse thrust. That is, if you could find a respectable airline that still used the Queen of the Skies. If his shoulders were hips – and he was a woman – they would be called child-bearing hips. He’d have been able to fit six on each of them, and-”
“Sir, this is a police station, not a writing workshop. Now, please just describe the man you ran over.”
SundayLit Prompt: Unexpected
“Ahaaaaaah! I bet that was unexpected.”
“Well, I did call a plumber.”
“And?”
“You’re in my kitchen, at three o’clock in the morning.”
“Aaaaand?”
“You’re completely naked.”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaad?”
“You’ve fixed my tap?”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnd?”
“The bill is much less than I expected.”
“Ta-dah!”
“Please don’t wave that around. You’ll poke an eye out.”
- From Ancient Greek, rhŭ́pos ‘filth’, and gráphō ‘to write’. ↩︎
SundayLit: Story 1
This is the first of the #SundayLit stories, previously posted on my @skribe Mastodon account, using the prompts: openings, happiness, colour, and dreams. I’ve made a few minor corrections and clarifications, and posted it as a whole for the first time. It was written and posted from 28th September until 20th October 2025.If you like this story, you might also like The Pact, which has a similar feel to it.
It was just like any other door, except this one was mine. Chosen fairly and squarely by lottery.
As I stood waiting, I looked across to the others. Those that had missed out. I could sense their envy. And those that hadn’t. Some terrified. Others as eager as I was.
The chime sounded, bright and clear. It was time to open our doors. We could have whatever lay in the rooms beyond.
Presuming we survived.
I triggered the latch, and carefully pushed against the gnarled, wooden surface. The ancient hinges creaked ominously as the door slowly opened.
I beamed as I gazed about the massive hall beyond. My smile must have been as bright as the room’s gleaming contents, so dazzling I wished I still wore sunglasses.
A mound of golden artefacts, reached almost up to the chamber’s arched ceiling
A mound of golden artefacts, reached almost up to the chamber’s arched ceiling. Littered amongst them were jewels of every possible shape and colour.All my troubles were over. All the trials had been worth it. I could finally live again.
Then, a flicker of motion caught the corner of my eye. Something raced towards me.
It shimmered, it’s form a wavering mass of colour as though it was enclosed within a soap bubble. Within, was a clockwork contraption, looking far too much like a ten-legged spider.
I did not like the look of it, especially the thick legs, they resembled the slightly curved blades from a pair of craft scissors. They made a high-pitched chinking sound as the thing scrambled across the mound of gold coins towards me.
I am deathly afraid of spiders. Not merely scared, but truly terrified, and have been since I was a small child. Even a photograph of a spider can be enough to trigger a panic attack.
Needless to say, I found myself both mesmerised and unable to move. I watched helplessly, my doom bearing down upon me.
The arachnid raced towards me
The arachnid raced towards me like a hungry mouse about to descend upon a wedge of cheese. It’s gossamer envelope shimmied with each movement. Within it, I could perceive the mechanism in its entirety. Every opening and closing actuator. Every snapping effector. Each whirring servomotor. It was a piece of exquisite workmanship: a dream made manifest. Or a nightmare.And yet, I felt happy. Perhaps I was some sort of mesmeric trance the creature emitted. Or, mayhap, it was the realisation that I would die a rich man. Just as long as I did not leave the room. My family would even be paid from the consolidation fund. Not the full amount, but a decent percentage of the haul.
Then, the beast was upon me. I fought, but it did no good. In a battle between flesh and metal, metal nearly always wins. And so it proved this time.
As I was consumed by the swirling rainbow, I glimpse two crystalline fangs, and then felt a sharp sting along the right side of my exposed throat.
I fell. Numbed. Cold throbbed through me. My last act of will was to close my eyes.
I heard my breathing slowing, and my heart rate decreasing. Then I knew nothing more.
I did not dream.
The Pact » skribeworks
Of course I was distrustful. Even moreso once I actually saw the place.skribe (skribeworks)