Friday 11 September 2015

Hours a little flexible

Dark mornings (and lacking the urgency of novel words to leap me out of bed) delays this weekly announcement by an hour or two, and I’m happy to grant a little leeway to those on other time zones, so long as they’re in when I come to judge. (Regulars will have noted I don’t formally close the gates since I’m almost always sound asleep by midnight.)
I’m happier still to welcome returnees Patricia, Tim and Bill and newcomer Kerry, I've added Michael Brown's link to the sidebar and will gladly do so for others, should you wish; also, I thank you for an unanticipated definition of ‘tilt’.
There were several sorts of horror this week;  for me the most awful to contemplate was the mounting awareness of abandonment, so I’m declaring Bill's entry the winner, with Patricia’s elegant ‘The Grand Illusion’ as runner-up.

Next week’s words are: hirsute, punch and wheel

Entries by midnight Thursday September 17th , new words and winners posted on Friday 18th

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.

48 comments:

  1. Two great stories. I really liked the hopelessness of the voices in Bill's story. It's implied that they are AIs, but they incorporate a certain humanity. Well deserved win!
    And Patricia built a wonderful image of a carnival with monologue alone. Would really like to go through that House of Fun. ;)

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    1. Thank you so much for that lovely comment, Kai. I'm glad my returning submission after an absence of several weeks didn't totally suck. I must admit I didn't expect to be counted among the placings, but it cannot be denied that it's always something of a thrill to see one's name. :)

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    2. Bill and Patricia, right worthy winners, so you be! Congratulations!
      Patricia, it really is good to see you here again

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  2. Cool! I haven't written any flash fiction in about five years now, and I didn't know whether the Prediction would still be going on; it took a bit of searching to find the new home. I'm very flattered that you liked it.

    It's tough to get everything across in so few words but what I had in mind was the soldiers from "Down Among the Dead Men" by William Tenn, a story I read decades ago and which has stuck with me ever since. I highly recommend it...

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  3. The Straw Man
    (100 Words)

    Rumour had it that R.S., Croesus Corporation's hirsute and misshapen founder, was looking for a successor to take the wheel. Amanda Delaney would beat everyone to the punch.

    She perched provocatively on his desk but R.S. tugged Amanda's skirt over her knees. "No interest in carnal pleasures, my dear," he snickered.

    "My mind is the sharpest in this organization," she informed him. R.S. was less than impressed.

    Amanda arched a sarcastic and questioning eyebrow. "Then what do you want? My firstborn?"

    R.S. -- Rumpel Stiltskin to his friends, assuming he had any -- reclined in his leather chair and cackled.


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    1. 'tugged', 'snickered', 'cackled' - your choice of verbs never ceases to impress.

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    2. Got those delimiting prompts dealt with straightaway. Then, it's on to the expansion of your tale, with a bit of whimsy at the wind-up. I like your style.

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    3. like this a lot, moves along at a goodly pace which carries the reader well, then - stops! more, more!

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  4. Cultivation

    ‘Why me?’
    ‘And not the others? Can you seriously see those hirsute Neanderthals being admitted?’ Daemon’s well-bred eyebrows rose, indicating the clutch of hard-faced men, shuttered eyes fixed on the spinning wheel, diamond-décolletéed women at their shoulders.
    Chris knew what he meant.
    But was not as convinced as Daemon of the superiority of this perfumed-murmuring, money-cultured crowd. He wondered how many others wore hired suits and false credentials – his at Daemon’s insistence.
    A drawled ‘Lend me fifty, will you?’ told him why he’d been invited. He’d refrain from punching him. Lacking the Neanderthals' inheritance, he still had much to learn.

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    1. I always love it when personages get to be legitimately referred to as "Neanderthals." The implication simply rolls off the insulting tongue so nicely. As always, the ability to conjure much from so few words is a talent to be envied. Did I mention that I often envy?

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    2. The mix of Neanderthals and diamond-décolletéed women has my mind reeling between too much hair and too much bling (and much scheming behind the scenes, I'm sure). This is a wowser!

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    3. brilliant depictions going on here. Where is this one going???

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    4. This is a bit of character-building for a new novel, fourth in a series. I've yet to fathom who they are.

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  5. It was good to get back in the saddle last week. Congratulations to everyone, there were some great stories last week. There are already some great ones this week too. Anyway, here's my attempt...

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    1. Master

      He had furry, gorilla-esque arms, a thick monobrow and a beard that started growing almost immediately beneath his eyes. People would kindly describe him as “sinister” and less-kindly as “terrifying”.
      The hirsute man was out of his audience’s sight as he puppeteered, sitting in the stripy tent with Punch and Judy held aloft.
      The show came to a close and the children applauded. It was time.
      He pulled a box from his pocket. The box looked like an old Walkman. He twisted a wheel on it and a blinding white flash of light engulfed them all.

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    2. A nice take on the classic Punch and Judy tale of horror. I'm always amazed I wasn't scarred for life after watching those shows when I went to the seaside as a kid. Very nicely done, but I'm not so sure the doom was completely dished out courtesy of the puppeteer. I always did think Mr. Punch had a lot to answer for.

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    3. Heh, heh. Love the tale and Patricia's comment. Would like also to know what follows in the wake of blinding light. The description of the puppeteer (unseen by his audience) is very sinister, indeed.

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    4. Yes. I'm with Patricia re the horror, and found this too disturbing to comment first time around. Not sure either of the import of the blinding light but suspect it's nothing good.

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    5. definitely an evil happening going on there, apart from Punch and Judy, that is, who were both outright evil and us kids didn't realise it!

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  6. Getting in earlier this time!

    ---
    "Hirsute? Yeah, more like hair suit!"

    (Ha, ha. It's been hours since I heard that one.)

    "No, he wants to rent a car. The way I figure it, he's gonna chase the car instead of drive it!"

    (This guy is a regular comedian.)

    "He don't look like he could hold the wheel. Lemme ask." Turning to me, "Can you..."

    "No, I can't, I have assistive devices. I'm fully licensed."

    (Oh, god, I shouldn't have said that.)

    "Get this, he says he's licensed!"

    (If I were still human I'd punch him, my paw won't make a fist. But my teeth work...)
    ---

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    1. Ha! Neat twist to this at the end and a twist to the reader's emotions too because of the cruel unthinkingness of the comments which reaches wider with each reading - very clever, Bill.

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    2. I liked this very much. It was a clever take on how "being different" can evoke such thoughtless and even cruel comments. I'm being redundant here, but this really was extraordinarily clever and packs even more of a punch (no pun intended) on a second read.

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    3. Eeeew! I thought I heard the crunching of bone as it finished, and said, under my breath, good, he deserved it! Enjoyed the alternating verbal and internal dialogue.

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  7. The Immortal 8

    A shudder went up my spine. I was in the car of fate and Death was at the wheel.

    He tapped his bony fingers together, creating an unearthly echo in the darkness. “I miss snapping my fingers. It’s not possible without flesh, you know. Well, no. You don’t... but you will.”

    That punched an icy fist in my gut. Sweat trickled down my forehead.

    Death cackled with laughter. “I’m just kidding. Ah, my messenger.”

    A hirsute creature - half-monkey, half-rat - scuttled past me and gave Death an envelope.

    “This contains the name of an angel. I want you to kill it.”

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    1. With each week you rack up the pleasure of this serial - and the snapping fingers ... just wonderful!!

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    2. This was delicious and delightful. Would it be amiss of me to voice how much I absolutely adore your Death character? Do we get to find out which angel is on the chopping block? Wonder if it's one of the "Big Four." Do we really have to wait a whole week for the continuation?

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    3. I think I probably meant to say "remiss" instead of "amiss," but I believe either will work. :)

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    4. Hmm, one expects that Death is fond of lies, but which is the lie - that the narrator will someday have the opportunity to try to snap his by-then-fleshless fingers, or that Death was only kidding?

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    5. Death (as in your character) is so cool. Makes this growing tale much anticipated. You seem to see clearly inside while providing hefty visuals. Nice work - continuously.

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    6. good depictions here, the characters are vividly portrayed and the plot thickens...

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  8. Grasping at yet another straw [Threshold 81]

    ‘West you say?’ I wheeled the horse around.
    Ravenscar explained. ‘East my brother, forces strengthened by those of Helvinsson’s men who abhorred his sexual deviation – ‘
    ‘Preferring warts and women –‘
    ‘South, the bridge-keeper’s family still seek revenge. North, closer to animals –‘
    ‘Only because of their hirsuteness!’ I understood but didn’t share Ravenscar’s revulsion: not a hair on his body, black skin polished like jet, he was beautiful to behold.
    And unique.
    A sudden punch to my solar plexus. Toad was carbonised, Twins beautifully black-tattooed – was he the deviation? And that the reason he refused to lay with me?

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    1. oh yes, as always, sharply observed and tightly written, ending with your usual cliffhangers!

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    2. As suspenseful as ever and what an extraordinarily flawless use of the prompts. These installments are like fine wine...they only get better over time.

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  9. Change of focus [143]

    Lurching upright, punch-drunk, deafened, noise emerging through candy-floss; part-blinded by still-falling debris, Pettinger saw the bodies – eight and hopefully all living – so covered by dirt and dust and splinters they had the appearance of hirsute. Impression dispelled when they attempted movement.
    Not all did. At second glance, sparkle of glass, rimed with scarlet, covered flesh and not the cloth of seconds ago.
    Shouts, squealing wheels from street, pounding feet from corridor. Confusing attribution: ‘bomb!’, ‘gas!’, ‘fucking ISIS!’ but what was needed now was first aid.
    But how extensive had it been? How many hurt?
    How long to wait for help?

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    1. Pettinger's story continues to tantalise, never enough of it at any one time to satisfy...

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    2. "glass, rimed with scarlet," super! The swift pacing definitely gives this an urgency that could carry a piece of greater length if not for the pre-set parameters.

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    3. If you'll excuse the reference, this packed one hell of a "punch." Wonderfully crafted.

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  10. THE ONE-TWO PUNCH
    Kids gathered round Charlie when he displayed his fat roll of singles and distributed dollar bills to each of them. It was rumored he was a bookie and Mrs. Ventimiglia’s boyfriend. Bobby never confirmed or denied as their belief gave him a cachet his secondary status would not have otherwise acquired. In a one-two punch, Charlie funded Dec’s education, despite his mother’s protesting. Vienna, when she thought of ”Uncle” Charlie, recalled only his hirsute hand sliding under her dress, as she sat behind the wheel of his Caddy and his assurance that she was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood.

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    1. Nastiest of all - the surface-smiling predator, giving cash but taking more, insidiously ... and that 'hirsute hand' - yeeugh!

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    2. Infinity 114.
      Damn crew be punch drunk on sommat the tricksty man gave them. Lucky for me he be hirsute,I grabbed him by the beard knowing he dare not touch mine, weaved as it be with fuses, and dragged him back to his shack. There he sat, shaking like a leaf whilst I demanded sommat to rid me of the Creature. In return he demanded gold coin. I needs to be thinking is it worth it, or should I find someone cheaper? Ah but luck be a wheel, it keeps right on turning, I might do better, I might do worse.

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    3. This dialect pulls me right in every time. It recalls John Barth's The Sot-Weed Factor and Thomas Pynchon's Mason & Dixon, both of which took this reader a long time in getting accustomed to the voices, but then lately succeeded. Here, in bite-sized snippets, it is so easy to feel at home during each visit. And yes, the last sentence is truly top-notch.

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    4. Yes, Antonia - that final line! - AND the beard 'weaved with fuses' - what a wonderful image. Oh, AND' luck be but a wheel' - clever.

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    5. @Michael (clarifying since the replies appear to have gotten a little out of whack here). This evoked images enough to make one shudder with revulsion...and that is meant as a total compliment.

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    6. @Antonia (with the same clarification given above. This was totally engrossing and what an inspired use of the prompts. It's almost as though the three words were specially created for your use in this installment. And what an authentic voice.

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  11. Michael, again, vivid depictions and a good deal of nastiness going on. Good one.

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    1. I love that last line of yours. Great use of the prompted words. ;)

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  12. Allegedly Blackbeard, aka Captain Edward Teach, used to weave fuses into his beard to terrify people! He can do that all on his own, beard or no beard,.. thanks for the feedback, guys!

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