She arrives with one coin. The saloon laughs at her. She holds.
She steps off a hover coach into the boomtown with her last gold coin. In the saloon the big screen turns red and the whole room laughs and points at her. She answers with a slow smile and walks out into the night.
She goes down the mine alone and strikes gold. The miners stack their hands on hers, and at sunrise the mine tower erupts with coins. The prospector who laughed takes off his hat; she hands him a coin. She stays.
132 images from 33 shots, in story order. A gold dot marks the frame that made the cut. Open any image for its prompt.
a chrome hover coach glides over the desert toward the boomtown, trailing gold dust
she steps down from the coach onto the dusty street and looks up at the town
her hand opens to show her last gold coin, then closes around it
she walks down the middle of the street toward the saloon while townsfolk on the porches turn to watch
she pushes through the swinging doors and the screen glow hits her face
she watches over the shoulders of prospectors tapping fast at glowing terminals
she makes her way through a shouting crowd grabbing at a table of glowing coins
she stares at the chart, the green and red candles reflected in her eyes, without blinking
a giant brass wheel of fortune spins with its gold bulbs blazing
she slaps her last coin on the counter and the bartender slides her an old brass key
the big screen turns red and the whole saloon laughs and points at her
a big bearded prospector laughs in her face and slaps the bar
she answers with a slow small smile and touches the brim of her hat
she walks out through the swinging doors into the night without looking back
alone in the street, she looks up at the mine tower glowing on the hill as the wind lifts her coat
she sings the chorus to the lens in the middle of the street, neon glowing behind her
she sings to the lens in front of the red screen, not backing down
she sings to the lens as the cage sinks into the mine under violet neon
she rides a rushing mine cart through the tunnel, holding her lantern up
she sings to the lens at the rock wall where thin gold veins glint
she swings the pickaxe into the wall and a crack of gold light bursts out
she reads a glowing gold ticker tape as it spills from the machine
she bursts into the camp holding up the glowing tape and three tired miners look up
the miners clutch their coin pouches, then stack their hands on hers over the lantern
she rides a chrome mechanical horse toward the mine through the night, three riders behind her
she sings to the lens at the mine entrance as the first sunlight reaches her face
the mine tower erupts with a geyser of gold coins into the sunrise sky
she sings to the lens under the falling gold coins, full of joy
she sings the last chorus line to the lens on top of the gold
the whole town runs up the hill cheering while she watches from the top
the prospector who laughed takes off his hat and bows his head; she smiles and hands him a coin
she rocks in a chair on the saloon porch, boots on the railing, smiling: she stays
