Anyone can join, with a 50-word vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.
Her mother made a strange, incoherent noise in her throat and stepped forward, trying to tear the letter from his hands. It slipped out, flapping a little like a butterfly, and flew over her head, and (without a sound), into Solange's hands. Her fingers closed on it without her thinking.
Then, silently, it stopped. They were in the corridors of a stone castle. Torches set along the wall shed orange light, and a window ahead showed the starry sky.
They both ran. Their footsteps resounded against the stone, and the torchlight, and their shadows, danced as the torch flame shifted.
For a moment, Jonnet thought she heard a noise. When she paused, and nothing more followed, she scoffed at herself. A rustling leaf, a squirrel through the litter, a thousand things more could have cause what she thought she heard.
"Seal the gate first," she said.
"Of course," said Queenie.