Ink-Stained Frustrations · Tales · Writing Prompt Creations

WPR 15 – Cursed Apricots

The bombardment of smells and noise in the markets was intense. Spices pricked at my scent, fresh herbed breads enticed my stomach, and overripe fruit and meats clung, like an unpleasant shadow. The throngs of people in all their variety and diversity, pressed in from all sides, creating a feeling of belonging to something greater, a community into which anyone could fit into.

The great markets were held once a month and were so big that they spread like a disease, filling first the market square and then spilling into the streets and alleyways. The darker and danker alleyways, naturally were the temporary homes of the more unsavoury stalls, or perhaps only unsavoury to those who expect quality.

“Apricots! Get your fresh sugar plum apricots – Cursed by real Necromancers!”

The voice pierced the still busy throngs, despite the more removed nature of the alleyway. The latest beauty trend was necromantically enhanced fruit, which would somehow grant the consumer the eternal lack of aging of the undead. Glancing at these particular sugar plum apricots, the curse spoken of appeared to be lacking in either power, advertised direction, or existence. An aggressive sneer, sent the seller to a more receptive fool, seeking youthful beauty.

Those who were serious about achieving unaging beauty, they would eventually find it from the best necromancer in the city, and perhaps the nation:


“Apricots! Get your fresh sugar plum apricots – Cursed by real Necromancers!”

Cursed apricots – Promptuarium



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