And, as I was enchanted by, and rewarded, last
week’s stand-alones, this week it is the turn of episode 59 of our second longest-running
serial, Antonia’s ‘Infinity’ and the
ever-fascinating Captain to occupy the high place on the podium. with our
newest – William’s tenth episode of
Little Martyn – one place below. In truth, each of Antonia’s episodes is worthy
of winning almost every week, but for me, episode 159 has all the elements that
make it such a staunch success. And I thank you all for participating and for
commenting.
Words
for next week are: bramble,
drift. sally
Entries by midnight Thursday 18th August, new words and
winners posted on Friday 19th
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.
Sandra, thank you! That episode was a tougher one than usual, it came out at 147 words... took a lot of pondering to bring it down to the 100 needed... the Captain is well pleased. I think there are other skills the Captain hasn't revealed yet...
ReplyDeleteCongrats to William for a stunning episode of his serial, shouting WELL DONE to Patricia for the ongoing fascination of the characters in her serial, and to you for yours! A weekly delight.
I now need to use the skills honed here to write a 100 word piece about the shop. We are in the East Cowes Businesses double page spread in September, booked our place, the paper photographs us, I provide the 100 words, they then turn it into 'County Press' style (their words) for the paper... but the base has to be there. The girl who called me said 'it's not easy' so I said 'I write a 100 word story every week for a challenge, for me it is!' she offered me a job on the paper immediately... (LOL)
Not been around this week due to work pressures, but what a surprise on my return. Congratulations Antonia, I am more than happy to take the silver medal when the Captain takes the gold.
DeleteMost worthy winners this week with excellent pieces. I must say I am NEVER surprised when Antonia places though. Interesting trio of prompts this week. My mind had been formulating a scenario for "Kursaal" that I wanted to put together before these were even announced. I do believe I might manipulate them to a place where they will work!
ReplyDeleteChange of focus [193]
ReplyDeleteCalled to the front desk, Pettinger’s first impression was that DC Sally Vicksen held a grubby, bramble-wrapped hobbit, who’d been dragged in backwards through a hedge.
Before she could so much as explain, the child twisted violently, escaping her grasp then ran towards Pettinger spilling guttural black-berried words in a language she did not understand.
Startled, she watched Pettinger steady the child, gather the drift of its incomprehensible tirade, and similarly answer.
‘Sir?’
’He says he’s a stowaway. Illegal entry–‘
‘Then why come here? You know him?’
‘Not as well as he claims I do. Says he’s my son.‘
What a gorgeous twist. I had to read this a couple of time to make sure I got it right. I do so enjoy this serial!
Deletewow, thank certainly had a grubby bramble stained impact!
Delete*that, not thank
Deletethis is a good serial and that is a good twist! Nice one.
DeleteI really enjoyed how you managed to capture the spiral of emotion. My Favorite phrase "guttural black-berried words in a language she did not understand."
DeleteKursaal (Episode Thirty Three) -- "Edith Witherspoon"
ReplyDeletePending the Kursaal's official Grand Opening, an interim celebration was arranged. Most attendees, Uncle Bob and Aunt Sally, Maximilliam Corviday and Manasa, for example, were assumed couples. Arbuthnot Jester, however, invited local ladies, Hilda Pickett and Edith Witherspoon, to accompany him. He would choose which later.
Tension between these rivals ran high, culminating with Edith shoving Hilda into a thicket of brambles. Chagrined, Hilda visited elixirologist Primrose Lee, who commiserated with the spinster's plight.
Drifting on an ecstatic cloud, Hilda arrived at the gala on Arbuthnot's arm.
That coming Tuesday, he promised he would escort her to Edith Witherspoon's funeral.
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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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Oh - what a wicked ending! And I do like 'elixirologist'.
DeleteI love made up words that sound so right and should be in the Oxford English Dictionary... and that ending was so right!
DeletePatricia what a wicked tale you have spun this week, although I must admit I'm rather partial to that Hilda.
DeleteA possible clue? [Threshold 127]
ReplyDeleteVetch winced at Ravenscar’s sardonic sally, unaware it was the truth. Time was, without thought or conscience, I’d’ve attacked, nails leaving deeper-than-bramble trails down the face of my accuser.
I‘d puzzled over my father’s papers.
O’Bedrun implied power, potential value devolved to me via some great-uncle. One he thought he had a right to share. With a sudden pang of need for sexual satiation I remembered he and I lying sweat-damp in a tangled drift of bed linen. He had failed to impregnate me but his reference to fecundity – mine – appeared to be the secret.
Or maybe my genetic inheritance?
With each installment, I find out more and more about this protagonist. What a complicated creature she is. And how well you do spin her story.
Deleteyou must know her very well to keep portraying her like this, Sandra! this is an excellent instalment.
DeleteThis plot gets deeper each week. "in a tangled drift of bed linen" evokes so much
DeleteThe Empty Shell
ReplyDeleteI drift between here and there, then and now. It is a pleasant plane of existence.
They try to rouse me with memory triggers. Brambleberries that prick, bring only fleeting satisfaction and, in the end, not worth the effort.
"Return to us, Sally," they urge.
But, there is no Sally.
There is no...anyone.
How pleasant to drift, but for moments, not forever
DeleteThis is even drifting in its telling, with an underlying threat of something much more stinking.
Deleteagree with Sandra here and that last simple line says everything.
DeleteThis encapsulates my greatest fear to be caught between and unaware of of self. This brought me to tears, and trust me that takes skill.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 58-Battle Station
ReplyDeleteGeorge drifted in and out of consciousness, heeding the distant rallying cry of his Sergeant Major:
"Sally forth, boys!"
Crawling through the confusing trenches of a disputed no man's land, brambles lacerating face and hands, George tasted blood and blackberries. There was an inexplicable yet comforting scent of lavender in the air.
His eyes fluttered, splintering open to see an imposing figure looming over the gurney. He recognized neither face nor uniform, although the voice seemed familiar.
The Station Master leaned closer, whispering in the soldier's ear:
"Sally forth, boys!"
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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.
---------------------------------------------------------
What a lovely touch, that 'George tasted blood and blackberries' but I'm anxious about his survival, and hope next week's episode brings better news.
DeleteSo many characters I need to track down and see what they're up to: the Grande Dame, the Conductor, the dairy delivery boy, to name but a few. And then, of course, there's always Marmalade. I'm pretty sure he's probably getting into mischief somewhere! I have to keep a tight rein on my desire to add more people. I have my plate full already.
Deleteit's the complexities of the many characters you have which makes this a must-read every week.
DeleteTo echo Sandra's comments the line that stood out for me was 'George tasted blood and blackberries.' I just love the characters that you bring to us each week, in three dimensions and in so few words.
DeleteI'm daily reminded of Cripplegate junction as I'm pretty sure we have a marmalade wannabe sleeping in one of the flower pot's either side of my front door. She certainly has a need to be in charge. #notmycat
Gostegodd 03
ReplyDeleteRioja tore herself away from watching the disembarkation, realising she was late for duty, too late even to clean herself up, or tidy her bramble-wild hair.
The tall stranger, some sort of authority figure, was not the only traveller waiting for the shuttle, twelve others were there, some of them mirror faced, others in suit-cloaks. The Knave was scheduled to drift for six standard orbits before the shuttle would return, and her cleaning of guest pods had to be completed.
It started so inauspiciously, this first sally of the war, yet to be named by commentators.
(99 words excluding title)
This serial has so much promise, both in its characters and in its final line. And beautifully told.
DeleteThis totally captures the imagination. Vivid images and magnificent use of the prompts. I echo Sandra's comment of much promise here.
Deleteexcellent stuff, looking forward to more
DeleteAs Patricia said "Vivid Images" In particular the haunting phrase "Yet to be named by Commentators", having read some of todays papers in regards to Russia and Ukraine, you gave me chills.
DeleteLetting go
ReplyDeleteStuck in traffic during the morning rush,
I saw a heart shaped balloon caught in a bramble bush.
Fragile and surrendered to the threat,
Unable to drift, stranded within it's briery net.
My thoughts turn to us, and how fragile we've become,
Too weak to sally forth, and too fearful to run.
What happened to those carefree hearts that we cherished,
what became of those lovers? We perished!
We became whispers lost in the breeze,
Two silent partners both ill at ease.
So let's prune back the thorns and set us both free.
You become you, and I'll become me.
Deep thoughts distilled from a momentary glance; and how disturbing that 'cherished' rhymes so aptly with 'perished'.
DeleteReminds me of certain "Freedom" lyrics by George Michael. I like the reflective tone while "stuck in traffic." Been there many times and the thoughts do wander along unexpected paths. Beautiful sentiments.
Deletestuck in traffic does strange things, I remember putting together editorial thoughts for my magazine from doing just that and my aunt phoning my mother to say how I spun thoughts from the smallest things. I am not alone in doing this, superb poem here from William.
DeleteOn the M25 is a bridge just before the M40 (and for going back as far as I remember) its has spray painted on it "Give Peas a Chance", just before that bridge is a line of hedges and two years ago they had a heart shaped foil balloon caught on them. I went to a supermarket before got to my head office to buy a note pad and I wrote down the first two lines, except it was thorn bush. I wasn't sure where to go with it and it has sat in that note book in the car ever since. Tuesday Sat in Traffic at roughly the same place I tipped coffee over my shirt and had to go to the same supermarket to buy a fresh shirt (meeting a new client), I remembered I needed to finish that poem.
DeleteChange of focus [194]
ReplyDeleteSwearing Sally Vicksen to secrecy Pettinger declared he’d take the hobbit-child home.
‘Keep me posted about findings at Edgewater’s house –‘
Yesterday, realising inner dimensions fell far short of outer, a SOCO team had begun a re-investigation. Pettinger had been there when, after removal of shelf-loads of gingham-frilled jars of home-made chutneys, jams and bramble jelly, a burly man had inserted the edge of a blue-painted drift into the slight declivity that indicated where two breeze-blocks met. A single hammer-blow had been sufficient to dislodge them, revealing further shelves of neat-labelled jars whose contents, while home-grown, were somewhat less salubrious.
now this is intriguing, what's in those jars, how lethal is it, what is it, who did it... who provided the knowhow and the ingredients...
DeleteSHUDDER! You have hit my fear hot button. Homemade Stuff in jars is bad enough but a secret hidden stash of stuff in jars. I have a mortal fear of Salad cream, just thought I'd get that out there. It's a personal experience which when I complete my first novella will become clear why. I am so freaked by this episode. I'm in awe.
DeleteWilliam, I'm certainly with you as far as salad cream is concerned, but my husband is a fan (and as for unspeakable sandwich spread ...)
DeleteInfinity 160.
ReplyDeleteWe stayed on the island longer than I would have liked but it were like a bramble, got ourselves caught on its thorns – grog, women, decent talk and long moon nights. What better reasons to let ourselves drift on from the welcome we were shown? One woman, name of Sally I do believe, silly frivolous name for a silly frivolous woman but oh she knew how to show a man a good time, held me there beyond my liking. So I got the crew together and said ‘we move on!’ with no argument. For a once, they obeyed.
Do I detect a certain amount of ambivalence in the Captain's thoughts this week? And who did he have the 'decent talk' with, because it certainly wasn't words he exchanged with Sally? Really love this episode, Antonia you are going from strength to strength.
DeleteI so Love the phrase "Long Moon nights" it has made my shoulders drop from a stressful day. Much enjoyed this episode.
DeleteLittle Martyn 1665 Part 11
ReplyDeleteElsa was beginning to perk up a little, thanks to the Bramble Tea Sagworth brewed for them both. The old women didn’t look too good though, and had spent the afternoon in the chair allowing herself to drift in and out of intemperate dreams.
Elsa hadn’t cared much for the old woman before today, but united by their wrong doings Elsa felt something. The poor old women looked like she wouldn’t sally forth ever again. Elsa wondered if Sagworth had buboes to be burst. She slipped over and pulled at her gowns bosom.
Sagworth bolted upright “Who are you, Sappho?”
Ugh, this is really nasty, black, bulbous and glistening. Wish I'd waited until morning to read ...
DeleteToday has been a bit busy for Rosebud and I.
ReplyDeleteThe Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #38
Shopping List: Bandages, Sail Patches
There were brambles everywhere. Somehow Natasha had drifted during the night and now we were stuck. The plan had been to sally forth promptly in the morning so we could reach the castle by nightfall. Henry agreed to carry an apology to my mother while I untangled Natasha. By the time my scratches were bandaged and Natasha’s sails were patched the sun was setting. We decided to sleep in our new clearing and try again tomorrow. This was a bad plan.
“Again? This time we’re leaving. I don’t care if the sun is setting.”
Late it might have been, but charming and entertaining as ever.
Delete