Friday 19 June 2015

It's only words ...

Another week of a dozen participants, several submitting more than once (Hooray!) and the standard, it seems, ever-rising.
 As Mashie said, elsewhere – ‘it’s only words’ – but the power they have,  to evoke disgust and discomfort, along with open-mouthed admiration and applause,  has been well-exploited this week.  For the impact of his words in ‘The Lesson’ – and I doubt many of us will forget that skin heart in a hurry – Mashie wins this week’s first place.
My short-list for second place includes Patricia, for ‘Bliss’, Rebecca for ‘Tit for Tat’, Red Ruth and Fergus, with Patricia just nudging ahead.
Via her blog Unusual Diction – link on the sidebar – I learn that Zaiure has published a collection of her ever-delicious flash fiction.   Do let me know if you’d like your blog to be added to the list.

Next week’s words are middle,  turmeric,  wail
Entries by midnight Thursday 25th June, new words and winners will be posted on Friday 26th

Usual rules: 100 words maximum (excluding title) of flash fiction or poetry using all of the three words above in the genres of horror, fantasy, science fiction or noir. Serialized fiction is, as always, welcome. All variants and use of the words and stems are fine.

Feel free to post links to your stories on Twitter or Facebook or whichever social media best pleases you and, if you like, remind your friends that we are open to new and returning writers.

54 comments:

  1. Well done, Mashers :) A deserved win indeed.

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    1. Congratulations Mashie and everyone. Great stories.

      Newbie

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    2. congratulations to winners and thanks to all for such good reads!

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  2. The Break (3)

    Dad let me have a shandy. We sat in the corner of the pub, him rubbing his turd.

    It was the colour of turmeric, except where he’d rubbed it. Is that? Gold, he whispered.

    Bloody Nora. Can I hold it?

    Suddenly the door flung open. It was an ugly woman staggering about, wailing. “My hoose. My hoose”. Like that. It was funny, only it turned out her ‘hoose’ was burning down. We ran outside. It was one big flame in the middle of the island.

    The landlord said that ent natural.

    Uh-oh I thought. Someone’s trying to get my attention.

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    1. Sounds like it's starting to get dangerous for our narrator. I'm curious to learn about the fire. :)

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    2. Is the gold cursed, I wonder? Poor woman with her hoose on fire. A lot said in few words.

      Newbie

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    3. Great ending - and you've nailed the boy's voice really well.

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    4. 'cept it's a girl. ;-)

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    5. What? Should I have known that already? Smacked wrist and apologies, if so. :-(

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    6. if you're smacking wrists, I hope they are mine, and therefore I apologise ;-}

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    7. we are being led down a tricky treacherous path here, looking forward to seeing where it goes...

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  3. Number sixteen on the menu at the Gandhi in Sauchiehall Street use to be Chicken Tikka Massala. A delicate balance of spices and herbs satisfying the most discerning palate. That was then. Last night I nearly choked on this crap!
    'Where's the fucking turmeric?' I wailed, as my flaming breath blasted the waiter's beard clean off his face. 'I want to see the chef right now!'
    'I'm so sorry, Sir. He's in the middle of a break.'
    'Then get the fucking fire brigade!

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    1. I enjoyed the dark humor and the way this story came to life inside my head. Sounds like a dangerous item to have on the menu! :)

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    2. Maybe number seventeen would have tumeric in it... Laughed at this, could see the beard disappearing. Nice one.

      Newbie

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    3. I've been there!! And you put me there again - really vivid, Fergus.

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    4. good use of dialogue with good matching metaphors.Like it!

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  4. Congrats Mashie & Patricia! And thanks for mentioning my ebook. :) I included a link to The Prediction in the book intro, so hopefully we'll get some new people.

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  5. Niall hung by his torn back leg, a silent wail of pain slicing through every nerve ending. He could hear the dogs baying for his release, knowing he’d be theirs to devour sooner or later. From the middle of his tunic, he extracted a small carved likeness of the Queen. The exertion took its toll and his leg cracked – he screamed as skin sheared from the bone. His fingers, slick with sweat, lost their grip and the turmeric coloured figurine tumbled into the blank nothingness of the chasm below.

    Newbie

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    1. Devouring dogs, chasm, cracked, and the tantalising queen. More please!

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    2. Terrifying, the painful ease with which this happened. And very, very painful - well evoked Newbie.

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    3. Visceral and terrifying and captivating. I'm very curious about the Queen and feel helplessly baited, waiting to learn more. :)

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    4. such an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and terror here. Brilliant.

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  6. Apprentice

    Dipping yellow stained fingers into a pouch at her hip, Berna ai’Rowling, Dye-Mistress of the Fifth Merchant Tier, held out a palm full of ground turmeric beneath the little girl’s nose.

    “Turmeric, for yellow dye,” the girl said, her dirty chin lifting in challenge. Fierce pride, inbred no doubt, shone from her large azure eyes.

    “Good,” Berna said, returning the powder to her pouch. Undoubtedly a middle child by the state of her clothes, the girl had likely approached her to avoid the Charnel Halls.

    A faraway wail from the catacombs bleached the girl’s face.

    “I shall consider your apprenticeship.”

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    1. Yes! Wonderful evocation of somewhere sometime.

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    2. Another hallmark entry - such evocative, well-chosen words - 'charnel' and 'dye-mistress' in particular, but I also love 'dirty chin'.

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    3. bringing the scene to life in so few words is a difficult task - done well!

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  7. I like the way I'm taken straight into the scene - it's visual - I can see the characters; hear that 'faraway wail'. Chilling. But hopeful for the girl.

    Newbie.

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  8. Hi all. I completely forgot about last week. Anyway, here's this week's offering...

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  9. The music was turned up to an almost ear-bleeding level while the chef worked. It was his only company as he worked alone.
    Between songs, a cry could be heard from the locked walk-in fridge.
    “Shut up!” he yelled, throwing a pot and hitting the middle of the door.
    The wailing continued, but was drowned out by the resuming music.
    “Too much turmeric?” he shouted. The anger was rising within him. He picked up a pan and threw it towards the door. It clattered against the handle.
    They thought they could come to his restaurant and complain, did they?

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    1. Great black humour. Kitchen nightmare! Enjoyed this.

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    2. Don't mess with the chef! I agree with Mashie, great black humor. :)

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    3. Chef-rage - so well depicted, and excellent, attention-grabbing, opening line.

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    4. I can hear the music and clattering pans. Enraged chef - great.

      Newbie

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    5. one way of dealing with disgruntled customers! perhaps we could try that in my shop... liked it a lot.

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  10. A change of focus [132]

    John Pettinger lost his chance of feted hero when the photo of himself and priapic, bandaged Prince, on the steps of the Khakbethian embassy, was censored.
    Vladlina phoned out for a curry but her Middle-something-Khstan accent mangled the word and it was heard as negotiator-code for ‘Caution – hostage under threat’.
    Gunmen burst in, to a background noise of wailing sirens. Took time to register the threesome peaceably tearing and sharing chapattis with turmeric-stained fingers. One trigger-happy trooper’s thankfully too-high bullet grazed the royal shoulder, the Prince only persuaded to absolve him of treason. on promise of another, lower-key visit,

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    1. I can hear the silence as the penny drops... except for the quick burst of fire. Very nice, Sandra.

      Newbie

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    2. clever use of language, both foreign and English, in this episode.

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    3. Very clever. Your first sentence is always an attention grabber, and I loved how this scene played out. Laughed aloud! :)

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  11. Belated questioning [Threshold 69]

    The near-dead spy emitted something more feeble than a wail. To avoid Ravenscar’s basilisk stare, I looked at her. Despite the curry-coloured stripes – paprika blood and turmeric-dripped shit – I could see she’d once been pretty. Wondered, but dared not ask, if he’d had her before he flogged her. Maria.
    I’d not yet named my son.
    Had no wish to commemorate the father and, in the middle of fleeing to and from myriad disasters, hadn’t thought of any other. Hadn’t thought he – we – would survive.
    Ravenscar awaited my answer. Sulkily, ‘Does my son still live?’
    ‘He does, but my son now.’

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    1. She has balls of steel your m/c. Enjoying this series. Good and visceral use of the three words.

      Newbie

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    2. have to agree with that comment - great episode, this

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    3. I agree with Newbie and Antonia; love the strength of the character. Lots of beautiful word pairings as well - 'basilisk stare' and 'curry-coloured stripes - paprika blood'. Vivid imagery.

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  12. The wail of sirens could be heard all the way up Renfrew Street. A small crowd had gathered across the street from the Gandhi. One old woman in a housecoat and curlers stood in the middle of the road.
    'How did it start?' she asked the punk rocker standing next to her.
    'Somthin' abou' turmeric, Ah think,' he replied.
    The woman shook her head and kicked her baffies into the road surface.
    'Ah've always said the shoud put pavin' stones along this way!'
    'Aye missus that's the friggin' Torries for ye!'

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    1. Now there's a brilliant use of the word!! Thank you, Fergus - you've made my afternoon!

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    2. very clever, Fergus! god read.

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    3. Enjoyable read, and loved the humor. Great starting line.

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  13. my plans for an early entry this week were blown when my partner announced we were off to the Cotswolds for 2 days - fortunately they were brilliant days, came back imbued with energy I didn't have, thanks to a powerful visit to a powerful stone circle.

    So, here's
    Infinity102.
    In the middle of raiding the merchantman we heard a sorrowful wail. We turned in time to see First Mate being lifted over the side of the Infinity by – something. Were it a tentacle? I baint commenting, I just write in the journal I had naught to do with that. Coincidence: and saves a death on my conscience.
    We found sacks of turmeric below decks. Some be good for improving the cook’s meals, the rest be gold in sacks ready to trade at some port or other before the Infinity goes home.
    Sometimes life be good. For a while.

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    1. Once again you seem to demonstrate that the prompts were tailor-made for the Captain, so well have you used them, His flexible conscience is very well-demonstrated here.

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    2. I agree, you always use the prompts so seamlessly! Loved getting a little more description on the elusive Creature!

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  14. The Invasion

    The Mighty Malbogians readied themselves for impact on the blue planet filling up their vision. The heatshields withstood the scorch of the atmosphere.

    “Nitrogen. Oxygen. As we expected, fully life-supporting.”

    The spherical craft sped towards the Earth. The Mighty Malbogians were armed to the teeth, except they had no teeth. They aimed for a yellow concavity on the planet surface.

    “We will call this the Sea of Victory!” wailed Krapp. The army cheered.



    “What on Earth was that?” queried Maud.

    “Not sure, dear. Something landed in the middle of the bowl of turmeric. Looks like a ball-bearing."

    "Really? How odd."

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    1. Loved this! Laughed aloud at the ending. :) Maud's comment was perfect, as was the 'sea of victory'.

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  15. Brilliant manipulation of expectation, Mashie, and “What on Earth was that?” very clever.

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