They had been waiting, umbrellas up, for the falling mattresses. Standing outside the gates of the city among greasy misted pipes that squall rustily with every breeze. Thick acrid smoke curls down from smokestacks and settles around their feet, the crowds that pace outside the factory. Today was the day the man upstairs had said. The installation was coming, to pad the world, and to cover over the rustbucket streets and girders. To make everything safe, is what they said. It would be the end of accidents. And the people made of cogs and sharp corners stood in memorial of the world they had created.
Another from the book of prompts. This is one of my favorites though, and still is. The prompt fed the line, "They had been waiting, umbrellas up, for the falling mattresses." And the purpose was to start from there and write for five minutes. This was the result.