Prompt: Your character comes across a huge fortune, what do they do with it?
“Oh yeah!” Charles sang as he did a happy little dance. It looked more like he was having a seizure or was a spastic chicken who had just had its head cut off, rather than a person who was trying to dance in his excitement for what he had just accomplished. “The Mayfair job finally went through?” Skye asked, eyeing Charles as she walked into the safe house, her bag slung across her shoulder. “Yeah,” Charles said, looking down at the ground as his face started to go red. He immediately stopped his dancing, but noticing it was just Skye, his embarrassment soon relented and he continued to bounce on his feet in his excitement. “You’re lucky it was me and not Alysha or Ryan,” Skye laughed. The two other girls would have never let him live the embarrassment down. “We are going to be rolling in it,” Charles said, showing Skye their account. Skye stared at the screen. She had never seen so many zeros before. Her mind could barely comprehend the number. “This calls for a celebration.” “Celebration?” Ryan asked, coming home with Alysha on her heels, “I’m always up for a celebration, what are we doing?” “We are going to the swankiest, most expensive restaurant in this town, and then tomorrow we will head to London baby!”
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I was thinking about the characters that I already created that I could use to make this prompt, but none of them really seemed to fit. It wasn't any of their stories. It was Andrew and Melissa's story. Yes, they are new to me too, but I like their story.
Sometimes people are meant to be with each other for a moment, but they aren't meant to be forever. Prompt: “We were always gonna say good bye, weren’t we?” / “Yeah, I think so.” / “I loved you though. I loved you so much.” / A pause. / “I know. I know. I loved you too.” Andrew took Melissa’s hand as they stepped out into the rain. They both knew what was coming. They both knew what had to happen. “We were always gonna say goodbye,” Melissa said softly as the rain hit her cheeks, the stimulation on her face caused her tears to drop onto her face as well, “Weren’t we?” she stared up at Andrew. “Yeah,” Andrew sighed, “I think so,” he nodded his head. They were meant to be. They just weren’t meant to be forever. Andrew had been with Melissa when she most needed him. He had helped her through her darkest moments. He had loved her when she hadn’t been able to love herself. He had been a necessary part in her life. And she had helped him. She had given him confidence. She had showed him that he needed to follow his own path, and she had helped him find that path. It had been a necessary arrangement. A beneficial one. They were meant to be with each other. They were meant to find each other. And now, they were meant to leave each other. It was time for them to go their separate ways. “I loved you though,” Melissa admitted, “I loved you so much.” Silence. Andrew didn’t say a word, and Melissa’s heart started to beat rapidly inside of her chest. Maybe he hadn’t thought the same way. Maybe her love for him had just been one sided. Maybe he had only seen her as just a friend. Maybe she had been wrong the entire time. She was just about to try and take it back, to leave the awkward situation when Andrew spoke up. “I know,” Andrew nodded his head. He took both of Melissa’s hands in his so that they were staring right at each other. “I know.” Melissa nodded her head and tried to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes. She had done enough crying. She needed to get a grip. “I loved you too,” Andrew admitted. He had loved her. Maybe not in the way that Melissa had wanted. Maybe not in the way Melissa had loved him. But in his own way, he had loved Melissa. But he wasn’t in love with her. He didn’t love her in that way, and it wasn’t fair to either of them to string this along any further. Melissa gave a sad smile as she nodded her head. He had loved her. It would have to be enough. She gave him one last lingering hug before escaping to the warmth and safety of her room to mend her broken heart. Prompt: Writing Challenge #38
Roll the die for character adjective 1.Elegant 2.Perky
5.Quirky 6.Bloodthirsty Roll the die for an event to start off the story 1.Wedding 2.Funeral 3.Anniversary 4.Christmas
Roll the die for the genre 1.Realistic Fiction 2.Historical Fiction 3.Classic
6.Mystery Pomp and Circumstance blew through the speakers as the group of graduates made their way to their seats. They were just in the middle of handing out the diplomas when Bartholemew burst through the door, looking and acting like he had a more than a little too much to drink. “Well, well, well,” Bartholemew slurred as he stumbled to the stage, “You’ve finally graduated,” he took Angelica’s hand, “Now we can finally get married.” He took her hand and together they raced out of the gym and into the waiting wedding hall where they were married. Instead of just telling you the piece of jewelry and everything, I decided to show you a scene of how it came to be.
Prompt: Your character wears a piece of jewelry to remind them why they keep fighting for their cause. What is it and how did they get it? “Hunter darling,” Cara said, kneeling down in front of Hunter. He looked so small standing there in the middle of the ruins of the village. She had never seen Hunter look so lost or frightened. Cara hadn’t seen him look so young before, he looked very much like his three year old self. “Daddy’s gone,” he stared at the place his father had fallen, he sounded almost confused by the thought that his father’s body was no longer there, “Where’d he go?” he turned to look at Cara, his inquisitive eyes staring up at Cara like she had all the answers. Cara took a deep sigh. How on earth was she supposed to explain what had happened to a three year old child? How on earth could she make this make any sense to him when it didn’t make any sense to her? “He had to go on a new adventure,” Cara explained. “He’s not coming back,” Hunter said. He said it so matter-a-factly, that it caused a twinge of pain in Cara’s heart. “Is mom coming back?” he asked, “Or Jeany?” Cara’s heart twisted even further as he listed his family off. Cara pursed her lips together and tried to hold back her tears from Hunter. “We don’t know,” Cara admitted, “We are trying to bring them home.” “When?” “I don’t know,” Cara shook her head. She wasn’t meant to be a mother. She wasn’t good at it. How was she supposed to explain to a three year old what was going on? How was she supposed to raise Hunter? How was she supposed to put together a broken three year old when he didn’t even realize just how broken he was? Cara breathed out a prayer of guidance. Hopefully she wouldn’t screw things up too badly. “But,” Cara said, taking Jeany’s bracelet out of her pocket and placing it around Hunter’s wrist, “You should have this, to keep Jeany with you, always, no matter where you or she may be, you’ll always be connected to each other through this bracelet.” Hunter wore that bracelet until it got too small for his little wrist, then he began carrying it around in his pocket before melting it down and adding it to all the amulets and lucky charms that he would wear, so no matter what amulet he was wearing on his mission, he would be able to have a part of the bracelet with him always. I encourage you to try this challenge. Let me know what you got and what you did with it.
Prompt: Writing Challenge 27 Roll the die to see what your story must have 1-a pirate 2- a scene on a roof 3- a nun 4- a game 5- law enforcement 6- a horse Roll the die for your genre 1-Adventure 2-Mystery 3-Fantasy 4-Sci-fi
Roll the die for a second must- have 1.A statue 2.A lake 3.A torch
6.An artist So I got: a horse, realistic fiction, and a book The horse galloped magnificently across the fields, it’s mane billowed in the wind as it showed off it’s magnificence. It was a royal horse, and it knew it. It had no doubt of it’s worth, neither did its rider. She sat astride her horse with an air of elegance and superiority that would put everyone else to shame. She acted as if she was a princess of long ago, who owned everything that she could see, and could do as she pleased. “You there, boy,” she called out to a young man lounging in the shade of an apple tree reading a book. The boy glanced up at the lady lazily, not bothering to lower his book nor get to his feet. “What do you want?” he asked, his eyes straying back to the book that he was reading. “An apple.”. “So get one,” he scoffed. He was sitting under an apple tree, and she, on her horse, was a lot closer to the apples than he was. It would be of no difficultly for her to pick the apple. Do I have a treat for you! When I first saw this prompt I was thinking it was a Hunter and Carrie prompt, or a Felicia and Allen prompt....but it just didn't seem to be in any of those four character's character to do something that crazy. However, it was perfectly in line with Aiden's character to do something so foolhardy and crazy. So the story follows Aiden and Sasha this time, which is good, cause they aren't in a lot of prompts, just the two of them.
Prompt: “You’re risking the lives of millions for just one life!” / “Damn right! ‘Cause it isn’t just one life- it’s yours.” “You know you shouldn’t have done this, right?” Sasha said. They should have left her in the prison. By helping her escape, they were going to be faced with a war, a war that there was no way they could win. There were too many of their enemies and too few of them. People were going to die. They should have just left her in there. At least that way no one else was going to get hurt. At least no one else would die. One life was nothing compared to the millions of lives that were to be sacrificed now. “Of course we should have,” Aiden said nonchalantly, seemingly unaware of the danger he had just put everyone else in. He looked about as concerned with what happened as he would if he was simply taking a stroll through the woods. It was one thing that Sasha admired. His ability to seemingly be uncaring about what he did, to be able to shrug it off as if it was nothing. Although, Sasha knew, it was all a façade. It was an act. Aiden did care. He cared a lot. Under his devil may care, play to the music of my own drum, only in it for me, suave, debonair attitude, there was a scared little boy inside that cared deeply. His attitude was just a cover for that. A way for him to hide the pain that he was going through. A pain that he tried to bury so deep that even he wasn’t aware of it, and he wasn’t, sometimes. “You’re risking the lives of millions for just one life!” Sasha said. She needed to get him to understand this. She needed him to think this through. That was his problem. He was an action taker. He came up with a decision and acted on it, pushing everything else on the back burner. He didn’t ever stop to think about the consequences of his actions until it was too late, which made him do stupid things, including getting them into a war with an army that could obliterate them in mere minutes. “Damn right!” Aiden confirmed with a nod of his head. He would do anything, anything at all to protect Sasha. It was what he had been asked to do by her father, and it was a mission that he had grown to enjoy, a mission that he would carry out with pleasure with or without her father’s asking. “’Cause it isn’t just one life,” Aiden continued. Sasha stared at him like he had lost his head and had gone absolutely crazy. It was only one life. It was hers. End of story. No one else was in there with her. No one else was getting rescued. She failed to see how he could believe that it wasn’t just one life. “It’s yours,” Aiden finished, his voice had lost it’s volume as he spoke those last words, and he stepped closer to Sasha, “It’s yours, and that is worth every single danger.” He leaned in and kissed Sasha, muddling her already confused mind. Yesterday you got to see Hunter as an adult, in another battle, with Carrie. Today we are going to go back in time, to the time before Hunter was Hunter. To the time just after the death of his father.
Prompt: First, you must learn to use the weapons you were born with. Hunter slipped out of the house. Cara was fast asleep, and thought Hunter was too. That was exactly what he wanted. Cara thought he was too young to learn how to fight. She thought he was too young to become a soldier, a spy, or even the king. She treated him like a child. He had stopped being a child the day his family was ripped apart in front of him. He stopped being a child as his village burned to the ground. “I want to learn to fight,” Hunter told the man at the door he found his way to. “No,” the man said. “I’m your king,” Hunter said, “You will obey my orders.” The man stared down at the young Hunter. Hunter was right. With the death of his father, Hunter had become king, even though Mara was acting ruler in Hunter’s stead until Hunter was old enough to take the throne for himself. “You protected my father through many battles. You’re the best at what you do,” Hunter continued, “I need to learn how to fight. For my people.” The man had to admit, Hunter knew how to give an impassioned yet logical speech. Even at a young age, Hunter had the intelligence and wisdom of someone more than four times his age. “Fine,” the man said reluctantly, stepping aside to let Hunter come inside. The training began, mostly with the basics, learning what was what. What this weapon was called, and how it worked, and a little hand to hand combat with no weapons. “When can I start using a weapon?” Hunter asked as they finished their training for the day. It was nearly morning and Cara was going to awaken at any moment. Hunter couldn’t allow her to see that he had gone. If he was going to be able to continue, he was going to have to keep Cara in the dark about his nightly adventures. “First,” his trainer said, staring at the stump of a hand. He had been the king’s best guard. He had protected the king through many a battle and protected him against all enemies. He had tried to save the king that night. He had done everything in his power, but ended up losing not only the king, but his left hand in the process. “You must learn to use the weapons you were born with.” Hunter stared at the man. “A solider is nothing if he can’t defend himself with the wits and the body God gave him,” the trainer continued. Hunter nodded, accepting the answer he was given. For the next few years, Hunter trained in darkness with the head guard until Cara finally decided Hunter was old enough to start taking lessons. Hunter soon surpassed even the head guard’s abilities, and it was then that Hunter knew, it was time to take on Flara. It was time to avenge his family. When I first saw this prompt my mind immediately went to Cress and Thorne from the Lunar Chronicles. The two of them make me so happy. It's adorable.
Well, here is another adorable couple that I love to death. Carrie and Hunter. I did change the wording a bit. The original prompt was 'if I survive,' instead of 'if you survive,' but I figured that the you fit better with my story than the I, so I changed it. Prompt: “You need something to look forward to…a reason to fight.” / “Alright….” / “If you survive, will you marry me?” Carrie clutched at her stomach, looking down at all the blood that was seeping out of her. She could feel the blood flowing out of her body and onto the ground around her. It was an odd sensation, feeling that blood flow out of her. She could almost feel it hitting the ground, begging to be able to go back into her body. She could feel the energy and life flowing out of as her blood raced to the exit. She knew it should bother her. She should be freaking out, but she couldn’t. She just looked down at the ground, watching as her lifeforce flowed out of her. “Carrie!” Hunter called above her head. She glanced up at him. The sun was right behind his head, making it seem like he had a halo of light around his head. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Hunter would be the first one to say that he didn’t deserve a halo, and probably wouldn’t be too thrilled with her thinking that there was a halo around his head, no matter that it was simply the sun causing the illusion. “Carrie!” he cried again, this time softer as he sunk to his knees, “Carrie,” he picked her head gently off the ground. Her blond hair was pink her blood that was staining everything it touched. “Carrie, what have you done?” he asked, putting his hand on the wound as if to stem off the bleeding, but it didn’t do anything. The wound was too big to be stopped with simple pressure, and she had lost too much blood already. Not even their best doctors could help her now. It would take a miracle for her to survive, and a battlefield was hardly the place to go looking for such a miracle, if such a miracle actually existed. “I had to protect you,” Carrie said softly, even she could barely hear the words she was speaking. “What makes you think my life is worth more than yours?” she could see the emotion playing on Hunter’s face. The sadness, the pain, the sorrow that he had felt when Cara had died was all playing out on his face as he stroked Carrie’s hair. He tried to remain stoic. No tears for him. No. Hunter wouldn’t cry. But he would mourn her. She knew that. He may have never said the words, but she knew he cared for her. “What makes you think that my life is worth anything at all?” Carrie asked. She knew she wasn’t important, not in the grand scheme of things. She didn’t have a job, a position in life, not like Hunter, or Felicia, or even Jesse. Carrie simply fit in where she was needed, when she was needed. She was the placeholder. She filled the space until someone else, someone better, came along to fill that space for her. Then she was once again pushed out of place and moved on to the next spot to hold. Her death wouldn’t cause even so much as a ripple in their lives. She had done her job. She had filled her space, and now it was time for her to move on and fill different spaces somewhere else. “Don’t talk like that,” Hunter said, his voice was hoarse with the emotion that he was holding back. Carrie’s life was worth more than ten of his lives. If anyone deserved to die, it was him, not Carrie. She should live. She should be allowed to grow old, have a life, have the family that she always wanted. She should have a chance. He was the one who was always running in search of danger, he was the one who was always gambling his life away. He was the one who deserved to die. Yet, Carrie had taken the bullet for him. Yet again, someone else had to die in order for him to live. The thought was like a knife in Hunter’s heart. “It’s okay,” Carrie breathed, she tried to reach her hand up to touch Hunter’s face, but she didn’t have the energy to lift it more than a few inches, “I know my place. I’ve done what I needed to do.” “No,” Hunter noticed Carrie’s hand, and lifted it up to his face for her, “Don’t talk like that,” he kissed her fingertips, “You’re going to be fine.” “I’m dying,” Carrie said, caressing Hunter’s face, “Even you can’t fix that.” “You just need something to look forward to,” Hunter said. He was grasping at straws and he knew it, but he had to do something. He couldn’t simply let Carrie die. He had to give her a reason to fight for life, to not give up, at least just long enough for him to find a miracle. “A reason to fight,” Hunter continued. That had always helped him. When he had been tortured, beaten, nearly killed, he would always remember why he was doing what he was doing. He would always find a reason to fight. It usually gave him enough energy to push on just a little longer. That’s all he needed for Carrie. Just a little longer. Just a little more time to figure something out. “Alright,” Carrie said with a patient and slightly amused, yet sad smile. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to say. What would Hunter do to convince her to stay alive? What would he give her for a reason to continue to fight? “If you survive,” Hunter said, staring into Carrie’s eyes. With every passing minute her color got paler and paler, and she lost more and more energy. She was slipping from him. Hunter’s heart was being ripped out and being torn to shreds. Not even the death of Cara had caused him such pain. Turning away so as not to have to look at Carrie’s pain, he noticed Jesse and Carl together on the battlefield, fighting for each other, protecting each other. Hunter brought his attention back to Carrie. He knew just the thing for Carrie. “Will you marry me?” he asked softly. “What?” Carrie asked. She couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “Carrie, will you marry me?” He pulled out the talisman he had been wearing to battle, the same talisman he had been wearing when he had met Carrie, Allen, and Aiden. Gently he placed the talisman in Carrie’s hand. “I love you,” Hunter said, kissing Carrie’s fist, “Marry me.” Carrie smiled sadly up at Hunter. She had longed to hear him say those words for so long. “I love you too.” “I take you Carrie to be my lawfully wedded wife. Do you take me to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do,” Carrie said softly. Hunter placed a gentle kiss on Carrie’s lips, sending her to her death with a kiss. Prompt: Writing challenge #3 Mystery Edition
Roll the dice for the bad guy 1-the sidekick 2- the mentor 3- the investigator (unknowingly) 4-one of the parents 5- the love interest 6-Unknown character Flip a coin Heads- someone dies Tails-a ghost is involved I’m not going to tell you what I got until the end. I think it would be better that way. Angelica screamed as she ran into the room to Michael’s side. There was blood seeping from a wound in his stomach. His skin was cold to the touch, devoid of all life. “What happened?” Stuart asked, rushing into the room when he heard the screaming. The rest of the group raced inside the room. “What happened?” They all gathered in the room and stared at the dead body in front of them. “I think we should split up, check the island and see if someone else is on the island that could have possibly done this,” Andrew suggested. The group agreed, and splitting into groups of two, they began to search the island. “Wait,” Angelica said slowly, as she and Stuart walked outside, “You were the last one to see Michael alive,” she turned to Stuart, “You seemed oddly flustered when you came to dinner, late, saying that Michael had gone to wash up.” Her mind puzzled over the pieces she had put together in her mind. “You killed him,” she said her eyes widening. Fear crossed her face as she realized that she had just been partnered with the killer. “If I can’t have you,” Stuart said, “Neither can Michael.” “So, you just plan on killing all my boyfriends?” “No,” Stuart shook his head, “I do intend, however, to kill you. Then no one can have you.” His arms were around her neck, squeezing tightly until her life left her body. I got the love interest and someone dies. Today is 6 questions to answer about any character. As you'll notice I didn't chose just one story, I mixed them all up, so you get a variety of different stories. I also did them more in story format rather than simple answers as well. I liked it that way better.
What are your answers for these questions? Did you think of a different character these could work with? Prompt: Answer these 6 questions
As everyone slept that evening, Allen made his way toward the stream, wincing as he took his shirt off to examine the wound on his stomach. It was deeper than he had originally thought, and it was still bleeding just as heavily, if not more so, than when he had originally realized he had been cut. He knew he should have told someone about the cut, and explained the situation. They would have understood, but there was something inside of him that kept him silent. Some part of his being couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had gotten hurt, like somehow, if he said he was hurt, he was admitting defeat, admitting that he shouldn’t be there and he really couldn’t handle it. “Are you alright?” Felicia asked, coming to the stream. She had been watching Allen all day, and noticed how pale he was looking, the way he winced every time he had to move in a certain direction, the way he held his face in such a way to try and keep the pain from traveling across it. “I’m fine,” Allen said, quickly lowering his shirt to try and hide the wound. It was too late. Felicia had already seen it. “Why didn’t you say something?” Felicia asked, lifting the shirt once again and examining the wound. It would need more medical attention than she was able to give it, but she could have done a lot more if she had known about it before it had gotten this bad. Allen looked down guiltily at the ground, trying not to wince as Felicia washed away the blood to get a better look at what she was dealing with. “You should have told me,” Felicia lectured gently as she placed some herbs in the wound to keep it clean. “I’m sorry,” Allen said. He wasn’t sure how to explain to Felicia without seeming like even more of a fool. Of course they would find out. That was what they did. They fought, they got hurt, they helped heal each other. It was in their DNA. He was an idiot thinking he could hide it from them. “It’s okay,” Felicia said, “Just next time, tell me.” She gave his hand a squeeze and gave him a soft smile.
Ryan looked into the mirror once again. She definitely didn’t look like herself. That was good. She glanced around the group. None of them looked like they had before. The group would change their appearances with every city that they lived in. Once a con was over, it was time to move on, and that meant not only leaving the town, but also changing their appearance. Sometimes they would change their appearances every few days, others they would keep their appearance the same for months on end. There was no set time frame, it all depended on the job that they were doing. They would get haircuts, extensions, color their hair, bleach it, wear masks, and even change their ‘style’ every few days depending on what was needed for the character that they were playing. No one ever recognized them, even mere days after a con job. That was the point. They had to blend in, and hide, and they would do whatever it took to keep themselves safe.
“Can’t we just throw these things out?” Jesse asked as she tried to spring clean the house once again. She was nesting and needing to get her house in order, and that meant that the curtains needed to be replaced. Carl had had a particular attachment to them and Jesse had allowed him to keep the curtains, but they were ugly, and more holes than anything else. Jesse wanted something nicer for their house, especially with the baby on the way. “No,” Carl said, more forcefully than he ever said anything. “What’s with these curtains?” Jesse asked. Carl never seemed to be bothered by anything as much as it bothered him that Jesse wanted to get rid of the curtains. “They were my mother’s favorite curtains.” Jesse nodded in understanding. Then, a thought dawned on her. A way to keep the curtains, but get knew ones as well. She took the curtains down and made them into a blanket for their child, and hung up similar curtains that weren’t worn.
“Where did you get this scar?” Carrie asked, tracing a scar on Hunter’s wrist. It almost looked like a burn mark. Hunter stared down at his wrist and shrugged his shoulders. “Cara says you’ve had it for as long as you’ve been living with her, but you never said where you got it.” “I don’t remember,” Hunter shrugged. It was a plausible enough lie. His whole body was riddled with scars, what was one more? How was he supposed to be expected to remember where he got each scar? But it wasn’t the truth. The truth was, Hunter knew very well how he had gotten the scar. He had gotten the scar the day his father had died. The day his mother was kidnapped, and the day his sister got taken from him. The day his world was torn apart was forever etched into his skin. His sister had lost her favorite blanket in the confusion, and Hunter had gone back to grab it for her. However, it was surrounded by fire when he had finally reached it. Still, he was the big brother and he had to try and protect it, he had to get it back to her. She wouldn’t sleep otherwise. He had reached in and tried to grab it, but had ended up burning his arm. Everyone had been too sad and confused after the events of that night to even notice Hunter had hurt his arm, and he hadn’t told a single soul, figuring the pain in his arm was his penance for not keeping his promise to protect his sister, for not being able to protect his family or his village. He never told a soul. At first, his guilt kept him quiet. He felt he deserved the pain, deserved the scar, and didn’t want any comfort from anyone. As time went on, the scar served as a reminder of what he needed to do, but it was his reminder. No one else would understand. In time, the scar just blended in with all the other scars he had on his body.
“What’s her name?” the man asked. The barkeep shrugged his shoulders. Even he didn’t know what her name was. Some people called her Mary, some Annie, some beautiful, the witch, the silent one….she went by many names. She answered to them all. She never spoke up to tell anyone what her real name was. He had asked many times, but had never received an answer. “What’s your name?” the man asked her. She stared at him for a moment but didn’t respond. She never did. The truth was, she didn’t know what her name was. She knew at one point she did. She had had a name just like anyone else. She knew that. She knew the witch at the edge of the town called her Lynee, but she didn’t feel comfortable with that name. It didn’t feel like her. Although, it probably was her name. It no longer seemed to fit. Nothing seemed to fit anymore, so she simply let other people choose what to call her, hoping that at some point, someone would give her a name that would fit. “Lanette,” a man breathed as he stepped out of the shadows that night on her way home. Lanette. The name. She knew what her name was.
It simply didn’t matter. She had multiple facets of her personality and she wore whatever felt the most comfortable with that day, which meant every day her style changed, as sometimes she just felt more like a goth and some days she felt more girly. |
Skye BallantyneI am very excited to welcome you to my blog! Hope you enjoy! Categories |