Friday 24 June 2016

Playing late

Another three words for you, which I hope I’ll get time to have a go at before the deadline - I’m looking forward to a lot of catch-up reading. Hopefully enough of you made something of last week’s words to be struggling to decide your own personal favourite.

Words for the coming week are: bliss south Tudor

Entries by midnight Thursday 30th June, new words and winners posted on Friday 1st July

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. Serialised 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.

44 comments:

  1. marital bliss

    “Not tutor, you moron. Tudor.”

    Glen huffed. “Fine. Too-door. Whatever. What’s your point?”

    “He was a king. Killed all his wives,” Jimmy said.

    “King ‘o what?”

    “England.”

    “This is South Carolina.”

    “So?”

    “So, this ain’t England. You ain’t a king. You can’t kill every woman you wish you hadn’t married.”

    Jimmy nodded concession.

    “You ain’t gonna fine marital bliss like this, Jimbo,” Glen continued.

    Jimmy shrugged.

    “Maybe not.”

    “Next time try counseling.”

    “Sure, sure.”

    “Or Oprah. She’s always giving out advice.”

    “Yeah, okay. But…”

    Jimmy motioned toward the ground.

    Glen signed.

    “Yeah, I can help you bury this one first.”

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    Replies
    1. How very nice to see a newcomer on my return - welcome AR Martin, I like this and hope you'll stick around and continue to use the Prediction as another place to play while resting from other projects. Great take on the prompts.

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    2. that I like! the kind off offbeat nastiness that jumps out on you at the end... stay around please, AR, I like your style!

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    3. Nicely done. Macabre AND humorous. Can't really ask for more and this is the perfect forum for such. Lovely introduction into the fray. I do hope you'll stick around.

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    4. Loving in the dark humour of this and a fine introduction to your writing.

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    5. Thanks so much for the kind words and the encouragement! I totally forgot to even check back all week, so when I saw this and saw that my story was one of the two honored, I was thrilled!

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  2. Change of focus [185]

    Whether or not she’d known of her step-nephew’s desire to emulate the man for whom he’d acted as recorder, Edith Edgewater’s citing Melanie Bridges, erstwhile receptionist at the BodyBliss spa (a facility offered by the pseudo-Tudor Hotel Elizabeth), a sex-worker undoubtedly caused her death. She was arrested on a charge of Hate Crime.

    Ben Brickwood re-visited the black southpaw boxer.
    ‘Horton have visitors?’
    ‘Some.’
    ‘Names?’
    ‘Nah.’ The man continued feinting and ducking, ‘But I seen who they were –‘
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Coupla wankers from the Co-op –‘
    ‘Aye?’
    ‘And a bloke from the fish factory. Big. Big belly. Snake tattoos.’


    Really great holiday, despite several hitches and thanks for last week's entries and comments, which I've thus far just skinned through.

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    1. another good instalment, with a vivid description wrapped up in a single line - I can almost see this hulk with his belly and snake tattoos. Nice one!

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    2. Now there's a physical description worthy of note. Love the use of the word "wankers." I've been asked many times to define this in terms the Colonists can relate to, but there's really nothing that rolls off the tongue so well as "wankers." Another stunning installment. You always leave us wishing for so much more.

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    3. Also loving the physical description (and reminded to get back on the diet). You had my skin creeping with the hotel, my company accidentally booked me into such a place once.

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  3. now here's a miracle, the Captain called around early this week, well - I am out on Thursday...
    Infinity 153.
    This voyage be taking us down south, to lands caught in a time warp, like stepping back into Tudor times or sommat. That be good for the Infinity, for there be merchantmen haunting they lands, looking for loot for theyselves which I be pleased to take off them for myselves. The bliss in looking in the hold at all we’ve gathered so far, such riches, gold and silver and gems and pearls and all.
    I wants to lose this thing we have on board, like I lost the Creature. All I havta do is find a way of doing it.

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    1. And I've no doubt that Captain will succeed, and quell whatever twinge of conscience with a cup of grog or two.
      Lovely use of prompts, as ever.

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    2. The wording and language seems even more suited than usual this week. The Captain is such a fascinating character. Just when you think you've got him pegged... Well, suffice to say that this installment is as intriguing as always. Adore the notion of "lands caught in a time warp."

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    3. I've been sensing a tinge of vulnerability in the captain, as Patricia said he's an interesting Character of many layers.

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  4. Sidelined [Threshold 120]

    Put in mind of Shakespeare’s plays of Tudor kings and princelings I watched the one cast straight-backed challenge unto the other, unable to translate their several concerns.

    Had Vetch’s denigration of Ravenscar been based on facts as griseous as was now his beard? Was Ravenscar’s ignorance of Vetch less blissful than his nostril-flared smile suggested?

    I’d grown up in the south; Vetch arrived from a mysterious elsewhere by circuitous means. Not impossible he’d have heard of Ravenscar’s dark people, although he, his ebony bulk, had come as shock to me.

    And I still did not know the whole of it.

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    Replies
    1. This was almost poetic in delivery. The first line in particular could easily be the opening for an epic poem. I am always totally astounded at how your two serials are so vastly different from each other in all respects but one...their brilliance.

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    2. they are indeed vastly different and equally entertaining. This is a fine episode, leaving me wanting the next one sooner than the next set of words, as always.

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    3. A most mysterious and hypnotic episode. I find myself re-envisioning this world with each episode like unwrapping a never ending joyous present.

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    4. Thank you indeed Patricia, Antonia and William - it's so heartening to know others enjoy reading what I have much pleasure in writing.

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  5. Kursaal (Episode Twenty Six) -- "Kat Shelton"

    Two weekends a month, the Kursaal hosted bridal receptions in its South Meadow. The specialty of Kat Shelton, party planner, was recreation of a Tudor banquet: centre-piece of peacock feathers, loin of veal and gilt sugar-plums. Authentic costumes were provided and strolling minstrels serenaded the newlyweds with ballads and folk songs.

    At some point during the festivities, Kat would take the couple to a small gazebo and reveal the ancient block and axe taking center stage.

    "A dissolution for one partner in the event marital bliss be found wanting," she confided, prepared for the customary incredulity.

    "Just my little joke!"


    ---------------------------------------------------------
    To read the earlier installments (a suggestion only) which led to this point in the tale, please visit:
    http://www.novareinna.com/kursaal.html
    A link to return to "The Prediction" can be found on the site. Thank you.
    ---------------------------------------------------------

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    1. Such smoothly-introduced prompts in this - and good to see I was not wrong in anticipating something delicious from you, although the 'centre-piece of peacock feathers, loin of veal and gilt sugar-plums' exceeded expectations.

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    2. definitely agree with Sandra here, that centrepiece, in every way, was a delight!

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    3. Mesmeric. I'm sure this piece with stick in my mind for ever. When ever an Axe and block are mentioned it takes me back to the film of James Joyce's portrait of an Artist as a Young Man. That's no bad thing, except I shall hide the key to the shed of sharp things, and sleep with one eye open tonight

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  6. Cripplegate Junction/Part 51-Backtrack

    Once more, Clive Bailey found himself propelled along the dusty corridor, sense of direction now a non-entity. North. South. East. West. It no longer seemed important. He was reminded of the Tudor Maze at Hampton Court. All those perplexing paths en route to the elusive centre.

    There, many years before, in a moment of anticipatory bliss, he had fallen to one knee and proposed. But euphoria was brief and instantly quashed by a curt refusal. Never again would he test the romantic waters.

    Clive's melancholia was jolted by a whispered platitude:

    "Faint heart never did win fair lady, old boy."


    --------------------------------------------------------
    To read the earlier installments (a suggestion only) which led to this point in the tale please visit:
    http://www.novareinna.com/cripplegate.html
    A link to return to "The Prediction" can be found on the site. Thank you.
    ---------------------------------------------------------

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    1. Hampton Court Maze!! A school trip and I still remember the trapped sensation of it - thank you for the memory, and thank you for this delightful episode and further insight into Clive's psyche.

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    2. liked this, clever use of the prompts and good insights. Nice one.

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    3. I have just so connected with Clive Bailey. Love this piece.

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  7. In Response to Steven Woolfe (you ain’t no poet bruv)

    Awoken from my slumberous bliss.
    Something had changed, something amiss.
    People had turned to hurt each other.
    Sister against sister, and brother fought brother.

    Good nature and common sense all left behind
    The vote had been cast. The result? All lost their mind.
    From the peaceful south, to the glorious north,
    A Nation divided, with no direction forth.

    Only the vilest of behaviour since tudor times.
    A hatred unleashed without reason nor rhymes.
    Nigel and crew they must be so proud,
    but still there’s no plan for crying out loud.

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    1. When the result came in last week we were at an international rally. The Brits were polite and astonished, whichever way they'd voted, the Dutch and Belgians dismayed and the Italians absolutely delighted. And even the Customs official at Schipol displayed a sense of humour.
      Neat and effective writing this, powerful in its simplicity.

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    2. Since I no longer reside in the land of my birth and have not done so for many years (although I staunchly remain a Citizen of the Crown), I was sadly out of touch with what was transpiring and so, the whole deal came as something of a surprise. My own fault really. I tend to avoid news programmes like the plague (they seldom report anything uplifting) and haven't even touched a newspaper in eons. Regardless, even I couldn't be an ostrich for any great length of time in this instance. I love your political view on the situation, William. So current and (as Sandra said) powerful...and all with the genius of being able to put the whole piece together in rhyming form. My most emphatic applause for a stunning and relevant submission.

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    3. interesting perspective, William, and very well expressed. I voted Leave and was over the moon at the result. I voted NO last time round... and was disappointed then. Time will cover over most of the hatred being shown, it will disappear behind the net curtains, where it has been since net curtains were invented. Nothing new about people or their attitude to others, never will be. We're a long way from being one nation, someone needs to remind Nigel and Co about Vikings, Normans, Hugenots and all the others who have poured into this land at one time or another and always it settled down and become richer for the mixture.

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    4. I have struggled to be productive this week in my writing. I know a lot of people who voted leave did so for good and honest reasons, much the same as I voted remain.
      I was on the other end of an aggressive jibe (last Friday) suggesting I should leave Britain. It got me to thinking if I with my four hundred year traceable history here is not welcome then what is to become of our tint fragmented Island.

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    5. not tint, that should say tiny.

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  8. Scientia Potentia Est

    Royston Glover's idea of bliss was a quiet evening spent in the living room of his Tudor cottage, sipping Southern Comfort cocktails and researching unsolved murders on his Lenovo Think Pad.

    One could pick up so many useful pointers.

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    1. Oh, ten out of ten for the Southern Comfort!! (Horrible drink but I was hoping someone would use it in a prompt), and what a little gem this is.

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    2. Love it, although trying to work out where the hidden camera's are in my den.

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  9. Little Martyn 1665 - Part 4

    Dawn broke.

    Thomas hobbled into Brindles to open shop, he called for John, then opened the door to his bed chamber to waken him from bliss. As the door swung the stench, like an old Tudor privy. wrenched his lungs.

    With bile rising, Thomas gagged and hobbled as fast as his peg-leg carried. Outside the strong southern breeze did little to quell the burning scent in his nostrils.

    “Old man Brindle is dead!” the boy shrieked, the commotion attracting all around.
    Old Ma Sagworth set off quickly to make her gains from the secrets of that Trollop Elsa May.

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    1. "Luvvly-Jubbly," as Del Boy would say. (If you don't get the reference, then please don't fret over it.) This was about at atmospheric as it could get until someone manages to perfect smellavision. "An old Tudor privy," is so on-point. You can but wonder how they dealt with it all back then. I am loving this serialization. We seem to have garnered so much more information than merely being on Part 4 would indicate.

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    2. I peered down a tudor privy only three weeks ago. Something I didn't realise is that the Tudors would hang their clothes in the privy to discourage the fleas.

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    3. Jostling with atmosphere here, and such an excellent use of verbs.

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    4. @ tinysmallfry - didn't they also use urine as a bleach? (unless I'm getting that mixed with dyeing) Good to see you here.

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  10. Just barely late. Oops!

    The Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #31
    A Childhood Story


    Once upon a time there was a little rose-tinted town called Bliss where everyone was happy. Always. Sometimes little children were sent to the south. No one was worried. They were just on holiday. By themselves. One day a child came back. A little girl named Petronella. She said she escaped from a malevolent Tudor mansion that could talk. The Latin above the door didn’t translate to “Children’s Summer Camp”, as the sign claimed. Most children don’t know Latin though.

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    1. Four minutes - maybe the sun passing behind a cloud! Once again you have managed to evoke a personal twitch of discomfort and abhorrence in this episode, lurking beneath the innocence. Very clever indeed.

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