I strongly disagree that a picture is worth a thousand words -- but a picture can definitely inspire a thousand (or more). Of course, I used Write or Die (look to the right-hand-side of this page for a link), which is WAY too much fun. I have written 1,000+ words every day since I found that site! Anyways, here's today's prompt and post. (By the way, I didn't even re-read it, it could be total crap. I just wrote what I could think of, trying to beat the clock. I learned that I can do 1,000 words in 20 minutes, easy. Fun, fun!)

PROMPT: Write a 1000 words inspired by the picture. Who is she? Or is she merely a tool and what she's doing more important?

Does the skeleton have something to do with death? Or bringing something back from death? Or the foundation of something she's building? Or is it her employer looking over her shoulder?

Clinging to the spheres in her hand, Distilla begged silently for more time. There had to be something ... there had to be some speck of truth, of knowledge, within the swirling whiteness.
So many images... so many figures....
There, a white kitten roared like a lion. Here, an eight-legged creature purred. In yet another, there were small beings, dancing and laughing. In the fourth was a dark image -- a warning? A sign? Oh! what did it all mean?
The spider crawled onto her aged fingers, but she didn't notice. She was out of time, so very out of time.
She tried to close her eyes, to take peace from the stone that rested on her forehead, but nothing came -- nothing ever came.
Perhaps they had been wrong? Perhaps she lacked the power?
But that would mean....
No. Focus.
She concintrated on the orbs. The images had never been so clear -- but nor had they ever made so little sense. Even she, the master of deceit, could not make anything up from this.
And she was tired. So very, very tired....
Slumping her head down on the table, she wept -- wept with fear and anguish and tiredness and fear... she was so afraid.
Peering again into the spheres, she begged the images to make sense, to help her. But they would not. The secrets were closed to her. Images, floating in the white mist, seemed to mock her.
The spider bit her, and the pain shot through her hand -- stronger than it should have been.
She should have known. Death had been hovering behind her shoulder for so long. Distractions had kept her from looking, however.
And now it was too late.

*

"Hack against her!" Bris cursed, "What are we going to do? We have lost our seer!"
"Patience," Domi said soothingly, stroking Bris' kneck, "We have only to wait. Distilla was weak. Now we shall find someone strong. Someone who shall protect us."
"But who?" Bris demadned.
"I have already sent Kran out looking. Soon. Very soon."

*

Kran stumbled as he passed through the glass that covered the Other World. He could never do that enough to get used to it. Somehow, he had to find a Seer amongst the Mundain.
A diamond in the rough.
A needle in a haystack.
A wild goose that he was forced to chase.
"Hack," Kran swore, "I'll never find a Seer."
He had to keep looking, though. Domi would kill him if he did not come back with what he was searching for. Surely there was a girl here who was not so Mundain as all the rest?
Walking down the street, Kran kept his eyes open -- trying not to be distracted. This was difficult. His senses were clouded by shouting, and talking, and music. So much noise -- how did the Mundains manage to THINK? There were so many smells -- some sweet, some savory, and some disgusting. How could his powers work with so many distractions? Someone rammed into him, then kept walking without even giving him a second look.
Such rudeness! Such disgusting incivility! How did the Mundains stand it?
As he continued, Kran began to dispair. He saw many young women, but none who would fit his purpose. They seemed always to travel in groups -- giggeling, girlish groups. Not one had The Sight. Not one had the patience to stop and Examine. So many distractions -- and they simply added to the confusion.
Such artificial beauty. Such concern with all things temporal.
Kran began to feel sick. There could not be a girl with Clarvoyance within a thousand miles.

*

Jennifer sighed, and stirred her tea, breathing in the vapors that rose from it. She always drank the tea after it was cold -- not because she prefered it that way, but because the steam always distracted her.
The smell was so soothing -- such a nice escape from the world around her. Here, in her safe little shop, she could hide from the world and all its noise, and simply THINK.
She had a lot to think about. It seemed that the world was colapsing around her very ears, and there was no way she could piece it back together again.
She felt as though she had failed miserably. Sighing, she breathed the vapors in deeply, and tried to think of something more pleasent.
A voice seemed to cry out to her -- desperate.
Someone needed help.
Standing quickly, and knocking over her chair, Jennifer started towards the door.
"Hoi!" the shopkeeper called out, "What's gotten into you?"
His voice broke the spell.
"Sorry?" Jennifer turned back.
"What happened, Jen?" he asked, more kindly. Jennifer had been coming into his shop for three years now -- she was his most loyal customer.
"I thought I heard..." Jennifer started, then realized what she was saying, "Nothing. It was nothing. I thought I remembered something, but it's not until tomorrow. Finals, you know. Always distract me."
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine, no worries."
She picked up her chair and settled back down at the table, eyeing her tea cup nervously. Was she cracking up?

*

Kran nearly jumped out of his skin as he noticed a scent on the wind. Something tingled inside him.
Someone was Sighting.
Was it possible? Could there really be someone among the Mundains with the Sight? With the Power?
He started running down the streat, but soon the scent was gone. The feeling had escaped him.
He had been so close!
Cursing quietly, he slowed to a walk, then stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
It was hopeless. He would have to Cry and hope she Heard before the Dakk did.

*

Jennifer put her keys down on the counter and sat on one of the high stools. Something about her appartment made her uncomfortable -- it was too Busy. The bright colours and active patterns distracted her. She just couldn't THINK.
Her roommate, Kristi, liked bright colours. Really, she liked bright everything. Everything about her was chipper and hyper, and though that made her sweet and likeable, it also made it rather hard to THINK.

Creepily yours?

The Hot Girl in the Comic Shop

Thanks http://dragonwritingprompts.blogspot.com/ for today's prompt! And thanks also to http://fxb.worth1000.com/entries/510612/esmeralda for the creepy picture.

Before I go, I have to post this quote by Roy H. Williams:

"In a thousand words I can have the Lord's Prayer, the 23rd Psalm, the Hippocratic Oath, a sonnet by Shakespeare, the Preamble to the Constitution, Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and almost all of the Boy Scout Oath. Now exactly what picture were you planning to trade for all that?"