Much
travelling about this week and now in the rainy West Highlands, at Ullapool as I begin this; further north to the topmost coast on Friday. I had to rush my posts and also the judging, but have no hesitation in
declaring Zaiure’s ‘Just another
Friday’ this week’s outright winner....
Words for next week: ambiguous
cane solitary
Entries
by midnight Thursday 21st September, words
posted Friday 22nd September
Very nicely done, Zaiure. Congratulations. Can't say I'm surprised you rose to the top with that excellent story. Have to admit, it was among my favourites of the week.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much! I wasn't sure I'd make it in last week, so quite the surprise. :)
DeleteZaiure; Congrats on last weeks well written and intriguing story.🥂
DeleteAnother beautifully written piece
Deletemany congratulations on a superb story!
DeleteNo Ear For Music
ReplyDeleteFrankie liked nothing better than to be on stage. Sidestepping the boards, he tapped his cane and tipped his top hat.
Frankie's act opened with music hall chestnuts like "Champagne Charlie" and then transitioned into a Neil Diamond medley that culminated, after donning a sequined jacket, with the warbling of his personal favourite, "Solitary Man."
Frankie's success was ambiguous, any applause being sporadic and meager at best. Frankie didn't mind though. He was living the dream.
And if he sang off-key, nobody in the audience noticed or even cared.
Neither did Frankie.
The undead are notoriously tone deaf.
I loved this piece - from the atmosphere, to the feel/description of Frankie, to the excellent final line.
DeleteOh when I hit the last line I instantly saw Peter Boyle, singing Putting on the Ritz - in Young Frankenstein! Excellent entry.
DeleteThe meager applause of the undead, loved it. When I read a piece like this, when the last line is down there, by itself, begging to be glanced at, I try so hard not to let it register in my brain. I was glad I was able to not read it too soon this time as it really packed a wallop.
DeleteVery well done. Images of Young Frankenstein were in my head. Very good descriptions and prompt use.
DeleteShowing my gross ignorance here - I had to check the precise definition of 'undead' before I got the full impact of this. For me the horror elements are more in the memories of a variety of prancing Frankies ...
DeleteExcellent titling too
Deletequite exceptional. Loved it.
DeletePuppet Gallery 3
ReplyDelete“You asked, Kalvan so why should a writer write?”
“To express the solitary vision they keep shackled in their soul, you.”
“So they can be successful by winning.”
“Dave, those are two rather ambiguous answers.”
“I don’t think so.”
“If winning is synonymous with success, why would a writer suffer being caned by the lack of success to continue writing?”
“To know they’ve improved.”
“You believe negative reinforcement is a better teacher than positive reinforcement?”
“Yes, in the long run, if they have the passion.”
“Our boy has enough participation trophies.”
“He’ll earn his.”
“They all have, that’s the problem.”
Sounds like real life! :) and I had to go back and pick out the prompts - kudos.
DeleteThis seems to be about submitting and being accepted in the writing field. How many times can one submit without success... apparently it varies, but I certainly need a positive outcome now and then. One thing I like about my favorite editor is she takes the time to explain why a piece needs more work and doesn't just send out a form letter. Thank you A.
DeleteJeffrey's still struggling with the whole ethos of being a writer, IMO, but he'll get there. With loads of experience of writing, that is.
DeleteJohn, thanks!
This is certainly indicative of a personal perception. I just wish it had a little more positivity. It is put together nicely but brings a hint of sadness. Still, that having been said, there is no doubt the exchange of dialogue is one of your strongest abilities.
DeleteIt is real life, mine. Writing is so frustratingly enjoyable to me. In my mind, I'm off to the races with ideas, only to trip over hurdles after I thought I had cleared them all. There are tomes I feel nobody gets what I write, just when someone tells me something is very good. It's my nature to quantify as much as possible. Failure(the lack of success?) frustrates me on a personal level. Thankyou all for your supportive comments and patience with my writing. I getting there.
DeleteVacant possession?
ReplyDeleteDespite the estate agent’s unambiguous reiteration he’d be waiting at the property there was no sign of him. Unsuccessfully Fay tried the front door then pushed her way through overgrown fuchsia to the back.
A conservatory. Wood-framed, paint once-white, now peeling; green-mildewed glass clear only where trees repeatedly, and heavily, dripped. Yet the brass door-handle shone. Tentatively Fay depressed it, found it warm and pushed open the creaking door.
Empty but for a solitary cane chair. Fay tried to call but found herself unable. Instead, heard a whispered urging: ‘Seat yourself. I shall tell you the story of your life.’
Great imagery, I wanted to tell Fay "don't go in there!"
DeleteThis chair can't possibly have anything good that could become of sitting in it. Nicely done with a perfect lead-up.
DeleteSome very good descriptions in this piece. I was able to see the whole thing in my mind. Softly done, until the end.
DeleteI can't imagine much creepier than being told the story of my life under such circumstances!
Deletecreepy stories are hard to do, this is brilliantly creepy.
DeleteThis was certainly ominous. Much like Theresa, I wanted to tell Fay "Don't go in there." Rather like those horror films when you just know someone (or maybe several someones) is making entirely the wrong decision. Magnificent descriptions which added so much to the overall atmosphere and heightened one's apprehension for the outcome of Fay's actions.
DeleteNights in Whitechapel
ReplyDelete“Ambiguous,” phlegm rattles in his throat as he scoffs. “I’ll show them!” Jack steps back to admire his handy work.
The message clear in his mind, as he leaves two fleshy mounds on the nightstand. The whore's blood already coagulating on his leather gloves. Though he feels he has much more to do, time is a foe.
Grabbing up his cane, Jack slips from the lodging room and melds with the London Fog.
Until, a few minutes later, he spots Mary Kelly. A solitary figure in the dead of night, and he with a message to send.
Ugh! A vivid depiction of the gruesome, and title at odds with (and so upping the dislocation and discomfort) the song planted in my head.
DeleteOoh, setting it up for the finale. The image of the two fleshy mounds was disturbing but riveting. Well written horror with a capital H.
DeleteBased on your title I had The Moody Blues singing in my mind. As for your story, it's a cold hearted orb that rules the night, robbing color from our sight.
Deleteclever playing with the "facts" and the theme
DeleteClever use of the old Ripper tales to horrify us all over again.
DeleteI am always willing to devour ANY take on the Ripper. This was an expert interpretation. Those "two fleshy mounds" are the stuff of nightmares!!!
DeleteKursaal (Episode Eighty Eight) - "The Amorous Adventures Of Arbuthnot Jester/Part Six"
ReplyDeleteFor the first time in the annals of Arbuthnot Jester's libertinism, he fell hopelessly in love. Manasa, Mistress of Serpents (large and small), became the mistress of his heart.
She inflamed his senses with raw oyster suppers and liqueur-laced coconut macaroons fed from a decorative cane basket. Sometimes, he was allowed to stay until morning and sometimes, he was cruelly dispatched to spend a solitary night, tossing and turning in his oversized hammock. Her ambiguity only served to heighten his desire.
"Allow me to prove my devotion." he begged.
Manasa favoured him with a bewitching smile.
"I'll think about it."
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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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VERY nice use of prompts. Especially enjoyed the "liqueur-laced coconut macaroons", and also Manasa's parting words.
DeleteI am going to have to take the time and go read the installments. You do have a way of crafting these small entry's into a bigger picture.
DeletePatricia, you never fail to entertain me or to educate me. I was unsure of the word libertinism, so I looked it up. Nice word. An engineering degree does little to forward ones language skills.
DeleteAn enjoyable story, though it raises the question; is the torture we endure due to others or ourselves?
Deleteliked this, it has a 'voice' that is different and distinct.
DeleteCanine Intuition
ReplyDeleteWith a snout full of ambiguous odors, the solitary cur sat on the cracked concrete in the shade of an overfull garbage can. A female walked the sidewalk, tail in the air, tethered to a man carrying an umbrella. The cur caught the female’s scent and his ears perked. An elderly blind man approached, tapping his cane loudly. The female yelped and cowered as the blind man passed. Apparently, all was not well in that household. The cur tensed and growled softly as the man yanked sharply on her tether. How long had it been since he’d tasted human flesh?
I really liked the unusual point of view
DeleteThat ubiquitous 'Beware of the Dog' notice is worth observing then?
DeleteSo full of detail, the visuals were spot on. Anothe story where I had to go back and find the prompts.
Deleteit seems to be a week of clever use of the prompts to craft impeccably nasty stories. This one is no exception.
DeleteVery clever and unique take on the provided prompts. This was a definite "out of the box" interpretation...and I simply loved it!
DeleteThe Undesirables
ReplyDeleteGather together all you oddities, outcasts and pariahs
All the Quasimodo’s, Frankenstein’s, Cyrano’s, and Eric’s.
Take strength in our numbers, we’re far from solitary.
Shed the masks, enough of the despair.
We’ve lived through ridicule, hatred and being caned.
All because they fear becoming what they see as vile.
Our family was created by the masses, driven by their ambiguity, united only in their fear.
This Gordian’s knot, has a solution.
Smiles that untie, soft words that relax.
Make gaiety of life, so they laugh with us, not at us.
Don’t let them judge by the reflections in a mirror.
This had a "masquerade" feel to it, possibly because of the "mask" reference. Can't say I totally understood the message, but I DID like that last line very much.
DeleteChange of focus [253]
ReplyDelete'They’ll allow him bail –‘ The unambiguous certainty of a politician.
Pettinger hesitated. ‘Depends on the magistrate –‘
Morgan groaned. ‘Of course. If it’s ex-headmaster Mitchell he’ll want to make a like father, like son point. Christ knows, he caned me often enough –‘
‘And the honourable Miss Blackwood-Tompkinson will resent your wife’s wealth –‘
‘So we’re fucked, either way?’
‘Depends which of you appears in support. Send your wife in if it’s Mitchell –‘
‘And my job, if it’s Barbara, is to suggest advantages will accrue if she grants it!’
‘You know her?’
‘One solitary, but memorable occasion, aye.’
naughty magistrates!
DeleteThose solitary occasions can land one in loads of trouble, so I've heard... I liked the tone of this. Intelligent and quick paced.
DeleteThe politics of justice, so well said. This was, for me, the most enjoyable episode in your series.
Deletethis has a good 'voice' too, picking holes in the existing hierarchy knowing they can do nothing about it...
DeletePlease recount more of that "solitary, but memorable occasion." I have a feeling we're all anxious to know. Loved the use of "cane" to incorporate a schoolboy caning. I tried to come up with a tale that would work that in, but failed miserably, Given this gem, it's just as well I didn't waste any more time on the project.
DeleteMonarchy Smonarchy
ReplyDeleteThe Queen of Ambiguity made her entrance, left the room then entered again. She sidled to the bar and groped the solitary patron who was so drunk, he barely noticed. The barkeep read a copy of A Confederacy of Dunces at a table for eight as the Queen sucked from the beer tap. She cleared her throat, suds dripping from her chin and extended her portable cane. Her soft shoe, clumsy and forced, ended with her sprawled on the dusty wood floor. The barkeep and the patron stood and applauded wildly as the Queen made her exit, returned then exited again.
Sorry about that. A dysfunctional moment hit me. No need to comment.
Deletewhy no need to comment - there's plenty to interest in this piece
DeleteI'm with JK. Explanation, if you please! Regardless, I will include this in my roundup of comments later!
DeleteOk, I got a little worried because the story is so silly. Disregard the no comment comment and comment away.
DeleteSympathies, John. I've had moments like these, where pen races across paper (or fingers on keys) composing words one hesitated to admit to. Has a Whiter Shade of Pale touch about it, albeit a bit grubbier than the original.
DeleteJohn, some very good humor and since Sandra put that song in my mind, actually added to my enjoyment.
DeleteI've had a few story posts that fit into letters I've written not meaning to send. But I did.
surreal stories are a delight, you can play with them in your mind and turn them every which way.
DeleteA Whiter Shade of Pale is so surreal it isn't true and a true classic as well, right?
I loved this. How dare you have even considered no comments! This had a wonderful fantastical element to it with some very vivid images. I'd like know what the Queen did for an encore when she returned.
DeleteEllis 007
ReplyDeleteThe sausages sizzled in the pan, along with a solitary flat mushroom. I was ambiguously glad that my lapses of the night before, whatever they were, might not be my fault.
I wasn’t exactly on a final warning, but it would have been difficult to explain being that caned while on duty. I wasn’t a bad police officer, sometimes I let my hair down so much the mornings after were a bit wobbly. Social nerves. Jasper was okay, he knew what I was like, and why.
But, who was there last night that would slip me drugs for free?
I wonder if someone slipped her a roofie? It must be frustrating not to remember. I liked this.
DeleteYes. Tasty indeed.
DeleteThe air of mystery you have in this is different than most. Kind of like making something with legos, it does really look right until you get near the end. Nice prompt use.
Deletethis is intriguing, can we have some more?
DeleteWho indeed? That is one burning question. I hope we get an answer soon. The suspense of this serialization is about to kill me!
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 114 - Parallel Tracking
ReplyDeleteMarmalade enjoyed solitary expeditions into the wasteground just beyond the Junction -- an unambiguous location where a pint-sized tiger could stalk the vast Savannah. Dangerous territory to be sure, but Marmalade was one fearless fellow.
He snuffled the Wild Mentha, releasing the mystical scent of peppermint candy canes. He battled with a deadly paw against the Many-Hued Odonata, legendary winged dragons and damels, who observed his movements with hovering interest.
Sometimes, distant caterwaulking of long-lost littermates urged Marmalade to join their ambush. However, Poppy's summons to high tea with anchovy fish paste effectively postponed (for the time being) further investigation.
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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.
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I always DID see Marmalade as on the plump side. But a cat can dream can't he?
DeleteAll men and cats, are legends in their own minds. Enjoyable and a nicely done sliw down, the calm beforevthe storm pehaps.
DeleteThe siren call of anchovy paste is difficult to resist!
Deletewhen one or my cats is asleep with paws twitching and growls coming instead of motorised purrs, I do wonder what his dreams are made of, wild savannahs perhaps? This is a joy and I can relate it to my Kai no problem.
DeleteGotta love that anchovy fish paste and gotta love Marmalade's imagination.
DeleteOmitting the engagement of brain [Threshold 182]
ReplyDeleteThe twins rode gingerly into the setting sun.
‘I didn’t expect them to recover so quickly; even the noughts and crosses scars were halfway to healing.’
‘They still hurt.’ Raven’s mouth twitched with cruel amusement. ‘They usually cane their horses; I’ve never seen them so sedate.‘ Frowning, he looked down at me. ‘I’m surprised you’re so willing to forgive them.’
‘Who said I had?’
‘Your face.’
‘You’re immune to their charm?’ A stupid question. I attempted to imply sarcasm, ambiguity but was too late: his vulnerability, his belief he fit only for a solitary life, re-surfaced.
He turned away.
‘Goodnight.’
ouch! old wounds have the ability to cut deep.
DeleteThere are times when stoicism and emotion don't mix and separating what you care about or for does disengage the mind from a proper response.
DeleteAn excellent story.
very much an 'old wounds' thing going on here and I think they will be bothering these people for some time to come.
DeleteSandra, you say a lot without saying anything. The information gained between the lines is pretty powerful.
DeleteJust about every character portrayed in this serialization is an enigma. Just when I think I have a handle on the protagonist, she eludes me again. With luck, this will not come to an end any time soon.
DeleteThe Mad Italian 23
ReplyDelete23.
If you could see me this night, rocking in a wicker cane chair, stuffed with cushions, solitary and loving it, you would think me ambiguous for I should be out taking the political pulse and concerning myself with the repercussions in the spirit world. There is a reason for this: the earthquakes have disturbed everything, so it must all be calm again before we can assess the situation as it now stands – people tearing each other apart with words, with bombs, with anything they can find. Peace must be found. We are working on it. Trust us.
Excellent of the seizing of the current and allying it to the prompts.
DeleteI have little doubt that Leonardo keeps a continuous watch over many a current pie. The image of him rocking in a chair pondering recent events seems to apt. I do believe I can actually see him steepling those elegant and creative fingers.
DeleteIs this the first time the Italian personally eluded he may be of the spirit world? He certainly has his hands full with people trying to tear each other apart. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteJohn, this is part of the very first piece Leo gave me:
ReplyDeleteI am long dead but living, by the way, enjoying life in a way I could never do when on your side of the veil.
He's very much 'alive', busy, working with me and my publisher and probably half a dozen others too. I know Winston Churchill is busy with a whole group called Go Forward, so I am sure Leo's involved in some groups, too.
The main thing is, none of them are too busy if they're needed. When I call, they come.
The Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #95
ReplyDeleteDeserted Dessert
There’s this ambiguous creation Cookie dreamed up. She calls it Storm Pie. It’s a chaotic mixture of peanuts, marshmallows, bitter chocolate, ice cream, and a dash of cayenne pepper sauce, with a sprinkle of cane sugar on the crust. It’s my new favorite dessert. Of course Cookie is the only one who knows the exact recipe. She created it on her last solitary day in the kitchen - the first day all her minions had been out in my entire life. I should borrow her minions more often. A bit of light international espionage never hurt anyone.
Enchanting. That's all. 'Nuff said. Period!
DeleteI think it's my favourite dessert now too!
Delete