Friday 2 October 2015

Triple strength, five star quality

A small but very strong field to choose from this week, which, given the quality of each is just as well. Not that it’s made my job any easier. Kai’s opening sentence; his use of ‘barrel’ as a verb, draped sheet and the chilling final line drew a vivid picture. Bill’s hardboiled tone and bulletted sentences immediately gripped, delivering another gun-barrelled gut-punch finish. But by the merest breath of wind, Antonia’s barrel of grog in her 116th episode made it to the top – well done! And thank you all for the pleasure of reading and re-reading these.

I anticipate Michael Brown might post his missed-deadline piece in MudStones, and have also added a link to Kai’s blog, where his longer pieces can be read.

Words for the coming week are: febrile, medium, poetry

Entries by midnight Thursday October 8th , new words and winners posted on Friday 9th


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.

59 comments:

  1. thank you so much, Sandra! Congrats to Kai and Bill for some class writing.
    Tough prompts this week... will see what the Captain makes of them.

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  2. (When I thought about Medium, I didn't think of something between Small and Large, but rather...)

    Inquisition

    "Recite the charges."

    "Master, the accused is a spirit talker and medium."

    "How do you plead, witch?"

    The woman, calm when the guards brought her, was now in the grip of some mental disturbance, febrile and incoherent. Her writhing stained the stones with sweat. She made only wordless sounds. Yet there was some pattern, as of poetry, or a chant, or...

    "What does she say?"

    "I know not, Master. No speech that I have learned."

    "She curses us! Silence her!"

    Now the heat was too great to approach. And in their confusion, none saw the great leathern wings unfolding above.

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    1. Goodness, Bill, you've made this appear to be the definitive use of the prompt words - terrifying for those of us who have even yet thought about them. And horrifying too.

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    2. It's funny - once I think of a way to use the words, I can't really write anything else. Very occasionally I'll have two competing ideas and will try both of them, but generally there's only one way write the story for me. Anyway, I'm glad you're horrified! ;)

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    3. You are more than welcome to put up more than one piece Bill!

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    4. Love tales of witches on trial. Such a rich source of intrigue. You did an excellent job here building interest in minimal style.

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    5. Loved this! Excellent rise of tension, and enjoyed the unfurling of her wings.

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    6. This was nice. I've always felt a great empathy for the witch and it's lovely to know that she has found a way to mete out justice....revenge....or however once chooses to categorize it. As long as those torch-bearing fire-loving non-believers get their comeuppance, I will be happy!

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    7. oh good one! With an excellent last line.

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  3. FEVER DREAM
    She had allowed speculation to fill in for public knowledge. That was the way of it. What couldn’t be proven was rumor. Rumor fueled gossip. Guilty until proven innocent? Feeling febrile, conjuring unsound decisions, she allowed for probability, envisioned a concluding statement with and without regard to ransom. She visited a medium on a lark, and later laughed over the poetry in her reading. She had no old friends, although she clearly recalled those who had been. The death card…a dark stranger…yada yada. She thought of her father, her children. Things couldn’t continue, but had to. Possibilities necessitated more money.

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    1. Gulp. Thie has made me feel immdiately outclassed - so I'll raise my game. Brilliant piece Michael.

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    2. Clever and seamless writing. Loved the stream of consciousness. I really enjoyed the phrasing 'laughed over the poetry in her reading'.

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    3. This had such a modern feel to it and the prompt words slotted into the entry without so much as a ripple. What an inspired piece of creativity.

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    4. like this a lot, smooth as silk and twice as entertaining.

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  4. The Moon Doth Shine
    (100 Words)

    If she remained under cover of the moon shadows, vague and indistinct, perhaps they would stay longer this time. Perhaps she would not have to face the customary ridicule and scorn..and febrile fear. To no longer be alone, if only for a few hours. If only to watch. She did not expect to be allowed to join the gaiety. That was too much to ask.

    She could have chosen any medium for communication, but she preferred the poetic word. They responded so willingly to the familiar rhymes.

    Her voice was sweet and compelling.

    "Boys and girls come out to play..."

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    1. Maybe it's a measure of what used to alarm me when young, but that "Her voice was sweet and compelling" sent a shiver down my spine.

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    2. The soft soothing tone belies the possible evil and carnage that might ensue. Good work. Yes, I shivered also.

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    3. Michael summed up my feelings about this piece very nicely. Lovely mix of soothing tones and the dangerous chill as realization arrived. Reminds me of several creepy childhood tales.

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    4. definitely a hark back to dark fairy tales, beautifully done.

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  5. Relapse [Threshold 83]

    Whether from hatred, temper or injury, Ravenscar’s condition had deteriorated. Not pale – unsurprising! – but febrile, skin sweating and a continuous shudder he could not hide. Clearly, he needed rest.
    I checked the dressing on his shoulder, ugly but no sign of poison. Re-bandaged. Instructed, ‘Sleep.’
    Teeth chattering ‘Only for an hour. You’ll need –’
    ‘I’ll recite poetry to stay awake – and cook some meat.’
    ‘Fire need be small –‘
    ‘Steak medium rare.’
    But too small a store of remembered rhymes, and darkness, meant I also slept. Close to him for warmth.
    By morning he was recovered enough to be angry.

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    1. I like how time passes in this segment. The sleep creeps in and makes the rest flow. His anger (soon to be expressed) in the end sounds very natural.

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    2. Loved the phrasing of the line 'but too small a store of remembered rhymes, and darkness'.

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    3. As Michael commented, the passage of time was expertly created in this installment. I'm not sure if the sense of togetherness has been cemented more firmly or beginning to show a crack or two here, but I look forward to finding out.

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    4. another dark instalment with your usual poetic phrasing. Good one.

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  6. Cripplegate Junction/Part 15-The Goldilocks Principle
    (96 Words)

    "Silence is poetically golden, dear chap," said the Station Master, "but is unfortunately so often futile."

    Clive Bailey's febrile eyes, bloodshot and glazed, tried unsuccessfully to focus.

    "May I suggest the Goldilocks Principle?" asked the Station Master with a polite air "A happy medium, so to speak. Reveal the whereabouts of Christopher and your medication will be returned."

    He dangled the pillbox with an encouraging smile but Clive found himself unable to respond.

    "I do believe, old fellow," said the Station Master, scratching the ears of a purring Marmalade, "that the cat has got your tongue."

    ---------------------------------------------------------
    To read the earlier installments which led to this point in the tale:
    http://www.novareinna.com/cripplegate.html
    ---------------------------------------------------------

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    1. Hurrah and welcome back to this - SO many lovely touches, and me especially enchanted with "happy medium" and "poetically golden". And thank you for the link to earlier episodes of Cripplegate, which I'll add to the sidebar.

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    2. Ah. Apparently there is no news feed so this cannot be effectively added ... but copy/paste works find and the illustration is PERFECT.

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    3. Yes, sorry about that, but at least the link works. I'm afraid I'm a little on the technically challenged side when it comes to this computer malarky so I consider myself fortunate I was able to make it work at all.

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    4. I like the little episode here and especially like the way it is presented at novareina or penumbra (the site is so mysterious with hardly any outside info). There's an enchantment here.

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    5. Lots of lovely phrasing in this like 'poetically golden' and 'febrile eyes'. I'm also always delighted at Marmalade's name - perfect for a cat!

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    6. this is effortless, flows from one to the next with all the menace unspoken waiting to come out.

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  7. The Immortal 11

    I slid off the table butt naked, an envelope dropping to the floor next to my feet. Death’s orders, giving me the name of the angel I’m supposed to kill.

    Wake up in a morgue and go kill an angel. How poetic.

    Pulling the sheet around my hips I carefully left the room filled with bodies. Luckily, I found a doctor’s medium sized coat. I had no shoes, but it was better than nothing.

    A febrile nervousness came over me as I made my way out of the building drawing glances from passersby. Always awkward, these situations.

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    1. ... and always lovely, these episodes. There's a wry, sly, tongue in cheek humour to this one. Delicious.

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    2. Always awkward, nyuck, nyuck, but all in a day's work, eh? I like how you're telling this, am observing and learning.

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    3. Definitely a sly humor to this that is delightful to read. Love the idea behind the character.

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    4. Lovely little humorous "digs" here. I am dying to find out the name of the angel written on that hit list and that last line is a total killer!

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    5. agree with Patricia, that last line is a joy! as is the whole delightful piece.

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  8. Musing

    He never understood the febrile urgency which could visit day or night, which occupied my brain to the exclusion of all else. Resented my lapse in concentration when an idea seized me, as it so often did while he attempted – had even part-way succeeded – to arouse me.
    Would not accept that the medium of sex, of sweat-stuck skin, of tongues and lips and damp exchanges of bodily fluids so frequently inspired me to poetry.
    And totally failed to anticipate that, sooner or later, a self-described concrete poet would need to take scalpel and, for posterity, inscribe her bloodied words upon a live body.

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    1. I liked your use of febrile. It created a vivid picture of the character in my mind. I read the first sentences and thought... interesting, I wonder where this is going. The final line was the cinch that grabbed and horrified me. It made me read again from the top. ;)

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    2. Oh my! Sex and gore - together again. Around these parts, are they ever that far apart? I had a similar reaction as Kai - something of a double-take.

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    3. Dark, dangerous, horrifying, and excellently written. Loved (and horrified by) the final line. Well done!

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    4. Started out as lustfully lurid and then ended up as horrifically lurid. Who could ask for more in 100 words or less?

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    5. superb. Draws the reader in and then shocks them, as all good horror writing should.

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  9. Change of focus [147]

    Pettinger, on his knees, coughed plaster dust before addressing Vanessa’s back. ‘Who are we holding in the cells?’

    Her eyes focused through the glass-less window to the slender bridge across the river below. The steel-lettered line of poetry, inscribed across its span, flashed reflected blue, aggravating the febrile dizziness which appeared to be the only damage she’d sustained. Although non-stop sirens and a cacophony of ringtones didn’t help her headache.
    Deliberately evasive. ‘A high-risk prisoner, en route to Durham. Transport broke down –‘
    ‘Back up vehicle?’
    ‘Also buggered –‘
    Eyebrows astonished. ‘And no-one thought it suspicious?’
    Shrug. ‘No-one claimed to.’

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    1. Loved the imagery that rose in my mind with the line 'the steel-lettered line of poetry, inscribed across its span...'. Also loved 'eyebrows astonished'. Delighted you've managed to keep this going. :)

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    2. And the suspense continues to mount. I had to chuckle at "Also buggered--" What an inspired turn of phrase. I never cease to be amazed at the coherent form of these installments from the one that went before to the one we're reading now.

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    3. another great instalment, with more menace being hinted at for these unfortunate characters!

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  10. Ardent

    Her eyes change color as she reads my poetry, eddies of dark indigo stealing away their familiar pale blue. My palms heat, dampen, as a febrile flush creeps leopard-slow across the milk-pale skin at her collar. She clears her throat, a ragged, earthy sound, and it feels like a desert has formed upon my tongue, weighing it down.

    “Good god,” she says. “Quite the steamy little verse.”

    I swallow, disappointment unfurling inside my stomach. She doesn’t know it’s for her.

    She orders me a medium coffee when the waiter arrives, and smiles flirtatiously. My words lay forgotten beneath her fingers.

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    1. How well you've dragged us in to feel the desperate tension and then the disappointment. "She clears her throat, a ragged, earthy sound, and it feels like a desert has formed upon my tongue, weighing it down." is a glorious example of your ability to evoke sensation.

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    2. Nice sense of disillusion here and some absolutely lovely phrases...to many to mention really. The entire piece reads like a poem in and of itself. The fact that the "words lay forgotten" at the end is a sad observation.

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    3. anticipation turns sour at the end, all captured in so few words. Clever writing.

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    4. Having experienced the sensation of having written for someone - not steamy verses, but even so - only to meet with such a reaction, I know just how the unnamed narrator feels. I've made one change since then; now I write for myself, and if someone else enjoys it, so much the better.

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    5. This is one of the best examples of packing everything in and having it seem like this case was meant to hold the wardrobe of a month's traveling. The pacing is great, such as is called for to tell all in a brief space, and all sounds natural and authentic.
      Congratulations.

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  11. Infinity 117.
    If I fooled with that poetry stuff I would be writing sonnets on the febrile state I finds myself in, for that spell be working. Tis true the Creature still be there but it be going from large to medium size, like it be folding in on itself. Sooner the better. I be wrong about the tricksy man.
    Now we haveta take advantage of a small wind tugging Infinity’s sails and be gone from this accursed island before I be tempted to ask the tricksy man to create more spells and my life be run by magic instead of logic.

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    1. There is an unaccustomed - and faint - air of perkiness in this, for all the dismissiveness of the delightful opening sentence. And I like the conjunction of magic and logic.

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    2. I'm not entirely sure that our Captain is always the most logical of souls but there is no doubt it is entertaining to see him debate the proposition. That Creature certainly is the albatross of this tale and the story itself goes from strength to strength. As always, I am amazed at the ability to continue such a jewel week after week.

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    3. Late again to the board, but happy to have heard the captain again.
      Reading like a bit of sweet to tide the hunger.

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    4. Loved the phrasing of the first line and I agree with Sandra that he seems a bit puckish today!

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  12. pushing against the confines of time... spent 2 hours discussing finances this evening with daughter, have 3 anthologies to work on (taken over 4 from an editor who gave up...) and realised that I had best get to the Captain soonest...
    great writing again this week, everyone. Thanks.
    Now back to the editing. Some of these authors have been waiting too long for their work to appear.

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