Just some of the detritus on my desk
(and note to self -‘detritus’ an excellent future prompt word).
Despite the relative quiet
ordinariness of last week’s words, some pretty gruesome tales were spun. Because
I have an inexplicable fondness for poor Clive
Bailey, I’m declaring Patricia’s
‘Cripplegate Junction/Part 118’ my poignant winner of the week.
Words
for next week: cashmere grief upwards
Entries by
midnight Thursday 26th October, winners
and words posted Friday 27th
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 you
prefer.
congratulations, Patricia, and yes you do have the talent! You don't see it yourself.
ReplyDeleteI must try and get back to sensible writing - I've lost the writing forum which took up time, lost (thank goodness) the Richard III Foundation work (it's closed - been one of those years, 3 things have closed) so there is less to distract me, other than the book on my life with spirit and your life with spirit (handbook on becoming a medium.) Could make a few sales with that.
Meantime... coping with 'idiots' - I had five stories sent all at the same time from a new-to-me writer. They were all useless. All TELL and very much overwritten. So they went back with lengthy feedback on the necessity to send one story at a time in case it isn't right... and why it isn't right. Can't work out if that was arrogance or lack of common sense. The silence from her is deafening...
I trust Storm Brian isn't going to blow us all away - hope to see some more good entries this week. I will go ponder the words, with a quick sideline note to Sandra:
THANKS FOR RUNNING THE PREDICTION CHALLENGE! It's never been so well organised and efficiently run! You are a true gem.
Thank you Antonia - it's nice to be appreciated, even for something I enjoy doing and don't (as I said week before last) feel entirely qualified to do. I wouldn't claim efficiency as one of my talents, but do know I am to be relied on for commitment.
DeleteWhat a wonderful surprise. I didn't expect to place anywhere with anything last week. Putting the tales together was something of a struggle. It's always such a delight to be considered worthy of measuring up to the wealth of talent to be found here. Thank you...!!!
DeleteAnd, of course, I heartily second Antonia's comments about Sandra's magnificent overseeing of this forum. I really don't think we could do it without her.
DeletePatricia, an excellent story last week! Kudos for you on taking the top spot and I do agree with Antonia about your writing, which I've also told you.
ReplyDeleteAs for Sandra, just putting up with me, puts you in consideration for beatification.
Cripplegate Junction/Part 119 - Where There's Smoke...
ReplyDeleteSteam chuffed from the engine's chimney and spiralled upwards. The train was motionless but Poppy expected no more than a brief delay. Her packed suitcase stood ready on the platform. It contained her prized possessions: dove grey cashmere twinset, matching box-pleated skirt, fully fashioned backseamed silk stockings and seed pearl choker, among other items. There was also a stockpile of Kit-E-Kat for Marmalade.
An invitation to join Poppy would be issued to nobody else -- Violet in particular. Poppy had not seen her sister for some time now anyway. The fact hardly left her grief-stricken. No love lost there!
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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.
---------------------------------------------------------
NOTE: Poppy (proprietress of the Turnstile Kiosk and Violet's younger sister) has been featured in previous episodes.
A family reunion, how sweet. I like the airy nature of this story. Happy, bouncy, full of hope. Very enjoyable.
DeleteI assume Poppy has a bit of cat bribery in mind.
Deletecertainly sounds like it... Kit-e-Kat, oh, haven't heard that for years! Hope Marmalade likes it... (my two hate Whiskas, they back away from the bowls if I serve that!)
DeleteKursaal (Episode Ninety Three) - "Holding Out For A Hero"
ReplyDeleteDraped in a cashmere throw, the same colour as her cognac eyes, Manasa languished on a divan.
"I am being persecuted," she said, voice laced with tears. "Followed. Watched. Perhaps even now. Someone is determined to bring me grief. What can a poor defenseless woman do, Arby?"
From his knees, Arbuthnot Jester gazed upwards at the wet lashes and trembling lips. He kissed the palm of her hand. She needed a guardian. A protector. A champion. He could be that man!
"Leave everything to me, my angel."
Vermillion fingernails raked his chestnut curls.
"I knew I could depend on you!"
---------------------------------------------------------
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.
---------------------------------------------------------
and the academy award for best actress in a staring role is? Initially I had to look for the prompts, as you'd never forget them. For me, this is one of the best Kursaal episodes that I've read.
DeletePoor, deluded Arbuthnot! I had to double-check the prompts.
Deletehow easy it is to get your own way with a man so easily deluded! Good one, Patricia.
DeleteKashmiri Incident
ReplyDeleteNesbit had been hurriedly dispatched to Kashmir.
Ostensibly he was the buyer from a textile conglomerate seeking out a reliable supply of cashmere wool. Unofficially he was here to meet and strike a deal with one of the leaders of the separatist movement.
His true mission was rather more sinister.
The man approached, grinning somewhat smugly.
Nesbit focused and released his pent-up power.
The man halted, grin turning to grimace as he spontaneously erupted. Nesbit watched the flames rise upwards in the darkness. There was a moment almost akin to grief.
It quickly passed.
In Arabic, they were originally called-al-Ḥashāshīn, though psychokinesis wasn't a trait. This is a very good story with lovley prompt use.
DeleteI love the laconic of that final line,
Deletethere's a lot of imagery in those words, David, I could almost see the action, which I can do without, actually... my dreams are vivid enough as it is!
DeleteThat last line was the one that finally sealed the story in my opinion. This was a smoothly written and enjoyable piece.
DeleteNothing But The Best
ReplyDelete"Anything cashmere," I say. He brings me polyester.
"To'ak Chocolate," I tell him and he shows up with Hershey's.
"As long as it's Chateau Margaux," I advise. He presents me with a wine spritzer.
It grieves me to reprimand him so harshly, but I can allow no more chances. Enough is enough.
He should be grateful for my supremely opulent taste. The instrument of his demise is from the Nesmuk catalog (Exklusiv collection, of course) and glides upwards, with minimal effort, through the pubic arch to the hyoid bone.
Reprimand was funny and ironic. The story was good as well.
DeleteThere are times, Patricia, when I think I'd enjoy meeting you ... but then again ...
DeleteWickedness personified.
oh, a really nasty one, that, but heavens, justified, bringing stuff like that instead of the real thing!
DeleteShopaholic Soloist
ReplyDeleteEvery time Sharon went on line, this time to consider cashmere mittens, she invariably cursed her addict mindset and placed another toy for her collection into the shopping cart. She rifled through the unopened shipping boxes with grief stricken fingers to find her purse and worn out credit card. She should’ve known the number by heart, being the balance upwards of 20 K loomed. Her sensibilities said no, go out and find the real thing, but her trembling finger confirmed the deal. Sharon sighed, remembered she was low on batteries and logged back in.
Oniomia-compulsive shopping is medical condition and thanks for showing how it can feel.
DeleteIt's only books I'm guilty of ... but I've a sneaking sympathy for Sharon
Deleteit's shoes with me... so yes, I sympathise with Sharon too... it really can be difficult not buying sometimes. My excuse is I wear shoes out... and it costs as much to repair them as to buy more from ebay, which is much more fun... Cleverly caught, that one, a character we can identify with.
DeleteThis reminded me of those "Hoarders" episodes that show in the United States (not sure if there's a comparison in the United Kingdom). It's a sad condition and one that's not easily controlled. This was recounted with sympathy and a lovely touch of pathos.
DeleteHelpful clues, as it seems my theme bogged down:
Delete1. She collected toys.
2. She knew she should be looking for the real thing instead of the toys.
3. The toys needed batteries.
Urban Oasis
ReplyDeleteShe soars upwards on the draft of a passing wind. She no longer needs sanctuary in order to heal. The wing is robust once more.
Far below is a bird feeder with cashmere-soft pigeon feathers fluttering in the breeze. The docility and delayed reaction to imminent danger displayed by her lamenting cousins has served her well. She does not look back and the carnage is already forgotten.
She knows no grief. Experiences no regret.
It is not in her nature to do so.
4 stories and you apologize, you're so funny. Yes, all of them were very well written. This has some nice imagery associated with it, made me feel that I was flyng.
DeleteThere's a lot of momentum in this, Patricia.
Deletethis is almost a description of a raptor, heartless and merciless. So so good.
DeleteMy apologies for inundating the forum with tales this week. I appear to be on something of a uncontrollable roll...!!!
ReplyDeleteWell-written stories are always welcome - that's what we're here for.
DeleteHelp from My Friends
ReplyDeleteWhat do you do when I write out of sync?
Roll your eyes upwards as your head shakes?
Lend me your mind and I'll create you a story and
I'll try not to cause too much grief.
I know I’m not the only one
I’ve seen it every week
Words so brightly used
You’d think they’re written by the muses.
My dreams are never empty
though my writing seems to be.
Is knitting a cashmere sweater doing the same thing?
We use elements and building blocks a plenty
Though chemistry and lego builders
We not be.
Upon reading, this evoked a number of tunes that sprang to mind. I immediately connected with "Little Help From My Friends" and "Beyond Blue Eyes," although I'm sure there are more that I'm missing. Clever little submission.
DeletePirate Doctor-2
ReplyDelete“I ask politely, with sugar on top,” as Rethic snarled then tossed his head upwards.
“Agreed.”
“Follow me.”
Griefs spawned tear emerged when I saw Cassie’s cashmere and taffeta sleeping robe slung over a pirate’s shoulder.
“Here is Captain Nelzar, your ticket to life, Dr. Karthis. If you need anything, tell Moblick,”
The large Kalvari had multiple bullet wounds and a laser burn. I checked his vitals.
He’s barely alive!
“Immediate surgery!”
I finished three hours later. Not a masterpiece but Nelzar would live, despite my staff’s paltry skill and outdated equipment.
Much more importantly; I’ll live.
This feels a little rushed and the influx of different names in a short span of time was a bit on the confusing side. Nonetheless, there's no mistaking the sentiment of that final line.
DeleteSleight of hand and eye [Threshold 187]
ReplyDeleteOutdoors disappeared. Flimsy cashmere mist that accompanied sunrise became thick as insulation, irritant and yellow, adding to the prickled claustrophobia of Raven’s bedchamber.
The casualness of Lant’s pose – shoulders against the wall, hands in pockets – was not in itself threatening, but the secrecy with which Raven slid the knife to me intimated he intended to give us grief.
Raven began to speak, urgently enough to bring Lant to within a bed’s-width. Painfully he turned, scarlet-striping the bedclothes, then cast his eyes upwards to the stone-arched ceiling.
Lant followed suit.
I reached across to thrust the knife into his now-exposed throat.
I enjoyed reading this several times, was this a sacrifice or a lamb led to slaughter? It doesn't matter.
Deleteyou're doing it again with the last line - superb, as always.
DeleteAbsolutely inspired writing from the beautifully crafted descriptive passages to that final "ripping" conclusion. This would have to count among one of my favourite "Threshold" episodes...and that's saying something!
DeleteChange of focus [258]
ReplyDelete‘I’m talking education!’ Tolly Morgan was fierce.
Accepting he’d been inappropriately flippant Pettinger apologised with an upwards gesture of his pint. ‘Explain.’ Added, in acknowledgement of the man’s still red-eyed grief (and his guilty conscience) ‘Please.’
Tolly Morgan explained.
John Pettinger thought it ... ambitious. Wanted to say something about sow’s ears and silk purses. Remembered Valdeta’s delight at the pashmina he’d bought her – ‘Cashmere’s made from baby goat hair!’ – and the speed with which she jettisoned an acrylic scarf.
Remembered Aleks.
Tentative, ‘Educate Jason Agnew?’
‘Those in his orbit. His recruits. Would-be acolytes.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
I like how you show what's going on in Pettinger's mind, narration instead of thought.
Deleteanother good instalment, the story progresses...
DeleteThe thought process here was an excellent example of what can transpire in a tight combination of words when they're well put together. Loved that "upwards gesture of his pint." So easy to picture.
DeleteExcelsior
ReplyDeleteWhy do the cynics leave me grieving?
I wish I was fine cashmere-like paper,
Always being turned,
Not put on the shelf for later.
I’ve had this dream;
I’m a wild eyed, prose clown,
Stardust is so easy
For me to write in
When I look upward at the stars,
I see my name, along with
Ballerina’s dancing, all stiffed with pain.
I kneel too long when praying.
I guess it’s all the same.
Can I write the story you deserve?
You’ve endured enough grief.
But at least I can still laugh it out.
I think.
This had a pensive aura about it. To be honest, I think it's one of the most well-crafted poems that you've written.
DeleteLast Words
ReplyDeleteThe explosion caused the ship to crash and her to give birth. A piece of metal had ripped upwards through her side, but missed the baby. You will live, though your family is now dead. She started the recording, her grief and pain emerging as tears that cascaded down her face. She wrapped the baby in a blood stained cashmere like blanket. Her five fingered hands then placed it in an unusually shaped container. Dragging the container, she crawled to a nearby road. Coughing blood, she kissed her baby and said “Ghisml Ykzor Talen.”. Then she turned the recorder off.
This was a sad little tale, but left me wondering if the new mother was alive or dead. The final sentence appeared to indicate not, but then "You will live" suggests otherwise. Still, I often like stories that leave me wondering.
DeleteAftermath
ReplyDeleteOnward and upward, they said, the world is your oyster. In the depths of grief, such platitudes made a cashmere raft for me. It didn’t last, it never does. Day on day waiting for the police to say ‘we’ve got him, you’ll get justice’ and it not happening. He’s out there, laughing at me, knowing he’ll get away with it. What’s holding them back from arresting the arch-fiend and locking him up forever? They won’t, so I will. Only with me it’ll be permanent. Justice will be done. Eventually….and he will know and he will fear and he will…
Revenge and justice. This was a magnificent return to the stand-alone arena. Nice to see you haven't lost your touch in the least.
DeleteYour 'cashmere raft' - a perfect example of a vivid, personal and unique voice, and wonderful use of the prompt.
DeleteAn enjoyable story and very good teaching model. I’ll second Sandra’s compliment on use of prompts.
DeleteThe victim turning the tides. Loved it. Well done.
DeleteThe Mad Italian 28
ReplyDeleteWhen first I ‘heard’ the words for the week my mind leapt to Kashmir, a wild land of tough people and tougher decisions about sharing the sub-continent with others. This sounds very much like the current situation in your countries, bringing grief to all as aspirations spiral upwards and disappear into the ether of disappointment. It would seem there is a tendency not to assist any forward movement but to delay and derail and in so doing, take from voters that which they voted for. So, my thoughts of Kashmir are right, they seek independence, so does the United Kingdom.
I had to undertake a double search to find the prompt words here, so skillfully were they inserted and I liked that you took the alternative route to incorporate Kashmir/cashmere.
Delete"a wild land of tough people" - delicious writing.
DeleteAn excellent substitution to fill a prompt! Independence at the expense of a house divided. A very well done piece.
DeleteThe Mad Italian's on a feisty roll today.
DeleteEllis 012
ReplyDelete“Right, Ellie, take the day off today,” Jasper instructed, suddenly decisive. “I’ll go talk to Petersson, stop any rumours trickling upward and give him some grief about putting you in an undercover situation unprotected.”
My face fell, I didn’t want Jasper facing off against Petersson. Even though Jasper was right. Especially as Jasper was right. I should have cleared it with him first, both as my boss and confidant, but I wanted Petersson to think well of me. Stupid.
I wanted to protest coherently, but the cashmere softness of my fluffy blanket lured me.
“I’ll call, later,” Jasper promised.
I enjoyed the "Even though ... Especially as" repetition, and "trickling upward" sounded sufficiently unique to discount it when looking for the prompt words.
Deletecleverly done, the repetition worked to increase the tension.
DeleteWhat could be more alluring than the "cashmere softness" of a "fluffy blanket"? This was a very clever continuation with a wonderful promise of much yet to come.
DeleteAnother good learning model in a well structured story.
DeleteGood way to use cashmere, almost as an adjective. I liked this story.
DeleteThe Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #100
ReplyDeleteThe Monotonous Council
The stuffy old council is giving me grief over paperwork again. I always make sure to write the important details. Maybe they don’t appreciate my titles. I think “The Cashmere Birds’ Glorious Revolt” is the perfect title for my report on that time flying thieves stole goats from a cruel shawl-maker. Goats that go upwards are basically birds.
The nonchalant attitude that you show here, almost flippant and very enjoyable.
ReplyDelete