Writing Prompt

You slide the paper bag across the polished oak table. The hooded figure opposite you leans in, curiosity pricking through the low brim of his cap.

“Where the hell did you find this?!” he hisses, voice muffled by the hood.

You suppress a grin. “Remember that tiny Norfolk village I moaned about? The one you thought had nothing but sheep and lukewarm tea? Turns out it’s a treasure trove of retired k...

You slide the bag across the table, the hooded figure opposite you peers inside. “Where the hell did you find this?!”

“I told you it wasn’t sold out,” you reply, barely suppressing a grin.

“Last call at Betty’s Antiques. You were too busy freestyling about unicorns on your Insta Live to notice.”

He ducks his head, hood slipping back to reveal that familiar smirk. “Unicorns are metaphorical. But...

“Find it?” I chuckled, the sound echoing despite the noise coming from the bar just outside our private room. “you’d wish I simply found it.”

His head flicked up and down, between me and heavy contents inside.

“This is millions of dollars. Hundreds times more than what you owe.” He rushes out, digging his hand inside to pull out a diamond covered bracelet, decorated with sapphires — one of ma...

She slides a bag across the table, and the hooded figure opposite her peers inside.

“Where the hell did you find this?!”

“On the side of the road.”

Alaire scoffs, carefully easing out a scaly, four-legged creature from the bag while staring at it with open fascination. A dragon child with scales like broken shards of the black night slumbers peacefully, its tail curled and belly softly undulati...

“200 dollars and I’ll tell you.” I pulled a smug grin.

He pulled out his wallet and gave me two 100 dollar bills.

I stood up.

“Where are you going!” He shouted.

I pushed open the door, and a tall older man walked in. He had a gray beard. Looked almost like a pirate.

“How did you find my father?” The man at the table stood up.

“Correction, I disowned you after you killed your brother.” The o...

A solo mercenary with the codename Locke is coming to deliver a contract. She is a cowboy-themed space mercenary who loves money and trouble. Onto the short story:

The rowdy bar is swarming with those eager for work. I, for one, never pass up a job when I see money. Where there’s money, there’s me, right there. I see my contractor sitting in the corner of the tavern, creepy bastard. I walk over,...

Both parties are in a wooden, hole-in-the-wall gemstone shop in a busy town. The boy urges to take the arrangement into a private room. The room is full of treasure with three tiny windows near the ceiling.

David slides the bag across the wooden table, the thing making a rattling noise, the old appraiser stands across from the boy. The man peers inside. “Where in the great World did you come acro...

The room was dark and smoky. Lit with wall sconces that weakly glowed like dying enbers. Walking past the weapons scanner as she entered she noticed there was no responce, no alarm. Not even a blink of light to indicate that the unit was functioning. She was obviously in the right place. Three steps led down into the taverns main room. To the left was a long bar stretching the length of the room. ...

I slide the bag across the table, the hooded figure opposite if me peers inside. “Where the hell did you find this?” a female voice asked with shock. “Well I was strolling through the palace and thought, I could get you what we’ve been trying to get for 100 years. The girl, _Lunasin_ was there also trying to steal it,” I point at the bag. It crackles with energy. “So I used her to my advantage, st...

I slide the bag across the table, the hooded stranger opposite me peers inside.

“Where the hell did you find this?!” He rasps in a deep voice.

I shifted uncomfortably glancing around the dirty tavern, far to nice for my taste, “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell, I don’t even know what_ it_ is.”

“Good for you, perhaps,” the stranger said, “I suppose you cannot inform me as to who gifted you t...