"What do you mean, discontinued?" Lena leaned forward over the counter and glared at the candy shop salesperson. Unperturbed, the man shrugged. "I'm sorry. It's not that we wouldn't order more if we could--it's been one of our most popular items!--but for some reason they are no longer willing to ship offworld. We've asked our supplier repeatedly, and he says we're not the only ones. I guess these things were pretty popular all over the Traverse." Lena's hands gripped the counter until her knuckles whitened. Of course they were popular all over the Traverse. They were the most palatable of several options that supplied the correct balance of trace elements to keep her system in check. She shuddered, thinking of having to go back to eating sandfruit. The innocuously named grubs wiggled on the way down, tasted like somebody had eaten a pot of beans and then farted in her mouth, and left her skin smelling faintly sulfurous for days after their consumption.


Inspiration: It has nothing to do with the clearance bag of Hershey's Mint Bliss sitting on my desk, I'm sure.
Story potential: High.
Notes: And her regular job takes her near there, and she's Something Badass, and then there's politics and the difficulty of living as a hidden people, and.... This stinks like a novel.

The spires of St. Petersburg rose before him, the breath of the firebird hissed past his ear, the heavy iron of the gun weighed down his hand, and the blood of the tsarina throbbed against his heart. He lifted his hand to touch the handkerchief the spot of her blood had fallen on in salute, and then he strode through the snow across the square to the squat building beside the spires. It was a bureaucratic, stolid-looking building, all about business and red tape and the necessary lubrications of rubles and vodka. But he came with a pack of invisible wolves raging across the snow behind him, leaving no tracks--

Inspiration: Everybody else is going to an awesome Russian vodka bar, and I'm staying home sick. I really wanted to visit this place, too.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Obviously, lots and lots more research needs to be done. I don't even know the pieces to fit together. Something in the Russian folktales and the grim beauty of the land makes me want to write this, though. After a lot of research. In maybe 2-3 years, when I'll be able to write even better.