NYCM Prompts
Genre: Action/Adventure | Location: A treetop | Object: A bowl of noodles
[Round 1: 1st place; progressed to Round 2]
Suspended from two sets of thick woven rope, the wooden platform swayed in the breeze, its creaks and groans underscoring the rustling of the treetops. Kelsey’s stomach lurched. Nothing about this situation was comfortable. Not the location, not the company, not the food.
Sitting cross-legged in the centre of the platform, she stared glumly into her bowl of noodles, wondering at the precise circumstances in which someone had discovered noodles could be cooked using an insulated flask. Just because something could be done didn’t mean that it should.
Her companion, however, was unperturbed. Marc sat with legs outstretched, slurping the watery remains from his bowl.
Her nose wrinkled. “Do you have to do that?”
“Do what?” Grinning, he deliberately sucked up a long noodle, a droplet of sauce flying up to stain the tip of his nose.
She scowled and sat the bowl by her side, abandoned for the moment.
Smacking his lips, Marc used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “If you’re going to be one of us, you have to act like us.”
“I’m not one of you,” she reminded him, sharply. “I’m paid to be here. Reporting on the heroic ecological group opposing the evil conglomerate, remember?” She shook her head, eyeing the sharp edge of the platform against the blur of dusk. “You needed the news coverage.”
“And you needed the story.” He upturned his bowl so the dregs ran out before shoving it into his rucksack. “A first-hand account of how we put a stop to unnecessary land clearing by Imprio Corp.” He clambered onto his feet; his height coupled with the position of the platform put him on a par with some of the loftiest branches of this three hundred year old tree.
Unfortunately, his movements sent the platform swinging out a little more forcefully. Kelsey squeaked in alarm. Why was she even here? The protest itself was not news. No, it was the rumours that Imprio had made underhand arrangements to smoke out the protestors which had led to her agreeing to this assignment. Yet so far, the rumours had proven baseless, and Kelsey was without her story.
A singular crack echoed from the forest floor.
Marc leapt into position, heedless of their precarious vantage point. He crouched over one of the hinged panels cut into the floor of the platform, each intended to give a view of the ground far below. Crawling closer, all Kelsey could glimpse through the opening was the shadowy outline of branches in the gloom.
A blow slammed into the side of her head. She tumbled over, narrowly missing plunging off the edge of the platform, before scrambling into a defensive crouch. Marc threw himself at the surprise assailant, wrestling with them. Kelsey watched horrified as her forgotten bowl of noodles was upended, sliding across and disappearing over the edge of the platform.
Another set of hands grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her backwards. She shrieked, clawing and kicking. Her foot caught soft flesh and there was an audible grunt before she was abruptly released.
Stillness.
Panting, she staggered onto unsteady feet. “What the hell was that?”
“Ask questions later!” Marc snapped, grabbing a whistle and letting loose three ear-piercing blasts. Soon, the call was repeated across the line of trees, indicating the alert had been received.
A sudden flare from a nearby platform drew Kelsey’s attention. Then another, and another, and another. Pinpricks of orange light created grotesque flickering shadows amongst the surrounding trees. From across the treetops, she could hear muffled cries as other protestors began to abandon their positions. The attackers had set the platforms alight.
Marc swore beneath his breath. Grabbing his backpack, he stuffed what few belongings he had taken out. “Time to go.”
“Go? But what about—”
“Too late!” he snapped.
Kelsey snatched up her own backpack, hooking her arms through the straps. As Marc led the descent through the entrance hatch, she paused only long enough to glance around. A soft thump sounded from behind. She spun around before venting a muffled scream. One of the attackers was crouched in one corner of the platform, glaring at her through a mask. She fumbled her grip and fell through the hatch, landing with an oomf against a large sprawling branch beneath.
Bruised and winded, Kelsey clung to the branch, hoping she was paralysed only with fear. An acrid stench drifted through the air. The platform… Her eyes flicked upwards. Fire!
“Kelsey!” Marc hissed from somewhere below, shrouded by leaves and darkness. “Get down here!”
Once a perch of ambivalent safety, now the tree seemed to thwart their every attempt to descend. Rough bark tearing the skin of their hands, thin branches slapping against their faces, cracks and groans threatening to send them hurtling downward at any moment. All the while, there was the crackle and pop of fire above, threatening to take hold through the tops of the trees.
Kelsey slipped and tumbled backwards, falling onto the ground with a cry. Marc grabbed at her arm and pulled her back onto her feet.
“Ssh!” He hissed. “They probably don’t care so long as we’re off the platforms, but let’s not take chances.”
Grimacing against the dull aches, Kelsey nodded. She stumbled after Marc as he scouted the route ahead, making for the edge of the forest. Over her shoulder, she glimpsed other protesters emerging from the shadows, all trailing towards the same point. Each tree in which there had been a platform now wore a crown of flame.
“I can’t believe Imprio really—”
“Can’t you?” Marc’s voice was grim. “We’ve been protesting for months about what they’re willing to do. No one listens.”
Her jaw set. “They will once I’ve written this up for my editor. All of it.” She looked to him. “Consider me one of you.”
He lifted a smoke begrimed brow. “But what about the noodles?”
Kelsey rummaged through her bag before brandishing her insulated flask. “Me and my noodles are ready.”
C.A. Raine 