On Saturday, having left home yesterday, I shall arrive in
Orkney to spend a week with a group of writing friends and know I’ll not have
opportunity or time to properly contemplate posts and choose a winner. I ask
you, therefore, to please select your winner and post it on Friday 18th’s
scheduled post, entitled ‘Anticipation’.
This week, yes ... thank you for recognising how
hard a task picking a number one is.
Once again I failed to fully appreciate the horror rating of a tongue. David’s ‘The Voice of the Orphan’ came
within a whisker of winning, but without wanting to create a precedent for
quantity, and because I genuinely felt one should win but could not decide
which, I’m declaring Patricia top
Predictioneer this week.
Thank you all for your participation.
Words
for next week: agony furnish thesaurus
Entries by
midnight Thursday 17th May, words
posted Friday 18th
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.
Congrats Patricia, and you too, David, for your well deserved mentions.
ReplyDeleteyes, congratulations Patricia and David! Brilliant writing.
DeleteThe Spellers
ReplyDeleteThe human thesaurus strode onto the stage with the others. He’d wanted the moniker human dictionary but it was already taken by a homeschooled farm girl in rural Oklahoma. There was scattered applause from his extended family in the third row as he took a bow while being introduced.
As one, the contestants quaked in agony as the moderator cleared her throat and started the competition. When it was his turn, the human thesaurus confidently misspelled the word furnish. A lone cricket chirped from the back of the rented VFW hall.
This made me chuckle. It created an image of one of those daffy duck moments when something goes wrong for him and there is that strained silence followed by the same lone cricket sound.
Deleteone of those embarrassed silence moments beautifully captured here. A lone cricket sound says so much!
DeletePowerfully-evoked moment - never to be forgotten, I'll bet.
DeleteI have to agree, John...the lone cricket chirping is a classic image! Nicely done!
DeleteThis was quite wonderful. Love the image of our contestant confidently misspelling "furnish." I like to think the little homeschooled Oklahoma farm girl took home the trophy...!!!
DeleteChange of focus [282]
ReplyDeleteThe brief baring of his buttocks gave Pettinger a moment of superiority rarely experienced in the starkly-furnished kingdom of a pathologist who delighted in bamboozling him with words from some medical thesaurus.
Returning to the reason for his being there, he asked Simeon, ‘Did she drown, or –?’
‘Strangled. No slurry in her lungs –‘
Which felt a mercy; the thought of tasting, consciously swallowing, an agony beyond comprehension.
‘Nothing from fingerprints?’
‘Not on record.’
‘DNA?’
‘Next week.’ A quirked eyebrow. ‘Two samples. From her, and from the foetus –‘
‘Which might indicate its father –‘
‘And possibly her killer.’
I am really enjoying this tale Sandra. The dialogue moves everything along so neatly .... I need to practice this skill much more.
Deleteand... will we ever discover who the killer is, or will they evade justice and... ever you create questions and don't give us answers - yet...
DeleteThis reads like a script for CSI. Really good stuff. Sandra, when you write of Pettinger, how do you picture him? I see him as middle age, dark hair, fit, fairly good looking...
DeleteJohn, the one novel he managed to wangle a way into, he is described (by someone he is questioning for murder) as "Not a bad-looking bloke at all; eyes his most interesting feature - pale and green. Hair looked like he’d had a number 1 back in the summer and hadn’t bothered since, but not, as was more usual, to conceal a receding hairline. A bit worn; weary, but presumably that went with the job, especially at the forty-plus he must be."
DeleteHope this helps. He's a fraction under 6' tall, bulky rather than fat.
Marvellous reveal, inserted so perfectly. This was such a smooth installment....but then they usually are!
DeleteI loved the smooth, crisp dialog, which added zest to this tale.
DeleteWhat’s in a word? [Threshold 209]
ReplyDeleteEvery thesaurus furnishes several synonyms for ‘widow’. Each includes ‘person remaining’.
Had Raven got it wrong? Was not he the surviving spouse? (Spouse!!) Carlotta dead?
In which case why did the mere mention of her name – and his instant association of it with deadly poison (presumably intended for him) – cause such agony?
Or had he concealed the loaded syringe, in anticipation of her being the recipient?
If so, was his warning indication he rated me, my life, more highly than he had done hers? (His wife!!)
Or had she (the bitch, the bitch!!) believed herself to have successfully killed him?
Oh, the tangled web begins to unravel a bit, but not a lot. It's still pretty tangled, which a good mystery deserves. Nicely done.
DeleteSo many unanswered questions that produced an utterly fascinating tale, Sandra!
Deletequestions demand answers, whether the answers are available for your characters is anyone's guess. You continue to entertain.
DeleteLovely little parenthetical observations that added so much depth to this particular installment. I'm with Antonia on how you continue to entertain.
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - Entry 4 – Atlas and thesaurus
ReplyDeleteA giant shadow flickered in the doorway of the abandoned library.
Armi knew who it was.
Atlas Armadillo was surprising silent for someone with such bulk. Furnished with paws large as ladles, no one said no to Atlas, except his mother, or Sarg.
He lugged a lump-hammer over his back and was a ‘dillo of few words and fewer brains.
‘You gotta report in. She says,’ there was a pause, ‘now, She says.’
Armi nodded; it was time to face the agony of one of Sarg’s tirades.
He grinned.
‘Fer you.’ He handed Atlas the thesaurus he’d been sleeping on.
oh this too is saying so much. Sleeping on the thesaurus, not using it says it all!
DeleteDeep and multi-layered (and nowt at all lacking in the dialect, Terri!))
DeleteYou created a great mood- creepily haunting - with this piece, Terri. Splendidly done!
DeleteQuite different and very interesting, Terri! A good read!
DeleteThis is quite a little world you are creating, Terri. Very enjoyable reading.
DeleteI cannot express how happy I am that you turned this into a serialization. I think my favourite literary morsel this time around was: "a 'dillo of few words." I also liked how one of the characters is called "Atlas."
DeleteI am having fun writing this Sandra. I have researched armadillos. Atlas is a giant armadillo and yes, there is a Screaming hairy armadillo - Sarg is up next .
ReplyDeleteI was intrigued by the 'hands large as ladies'!
Deletelol.... large as ladles as in big serving spoon
ReplyDeletePain ripped through him, sending muscles into spasms, contorting his body. Fingers (his own) clawed at his flesh. Once his mind gave out, unable to furnish any more memories, let alone coherent thoughts, the aching remained.
ReplyDeleteWas this all that he was now? Raw agony? Nerve endings left exposed? He needed a thesaurus to even begin to explain the level of pain he was at now.
He screamed (or had he ever stopped)?
For one brief moment of clarity, one moment where the pain paused, he took hold of one thought.
Is this hell?
I love the line: He screamed (or had he ever stopped?) That, to me, dictated the severity of his pain. A fine piece of writing, David!
DeleteSorry, RJ, I of course meant you, although David's piece was great, too.
DeleteA really nice descriptive piece, RJ. To be in pain bad enough to make you claw at your own flesh kind of says it all.
Deletevivid descriptions of a horrible ordeal. Not easy to write, but this does capture it well.
DeleteThis was thought-provokingly nasty...in the best sense of the word. Very competent use of prompt insertion which was virtually seamless.
DeleteThe Salon
ReplyDeleteAll that would furnish his salon would be a chair, a table for his instruments and another for his record player. He consulted his thesaurus and painted onto the stone walls the synonyms for pain and agony.
Outside in the city the orphan was singing. No one knew what the orphan was. But its song aroused defiance in the populace. One day he’d have its tongue on a hook.
He didn’t dwell. The Torturer General had a guest to welcome.
He placed the needle to his selected record. He simply had to have music while he worked.
A merciless killer who appreciate the Arts, Very nice, David!
DeleteOoh, a prequel to your last story. Great horror writing, David.
Deletedefinitely good horror writing, so much unsaid and yet the menace is there.
DeleteI applaud the tie-in to last week's challenge. Very nicely accomplished. Had to smile at the reference to a "record player" and wonder how long it will be before an upcoming generation has no idea what that might be.
DeleteNOTHING
ReplyDeleteWhile detoured through a tumbledown section of town, I noticed a storefront that read NOTHING. I agonized over that name, and seeking meanings beside the obvious, once home I consulted my thesaurus. I discovered nothing surprising.
Curiosity drew me back to the shop. It was empty save for an old Asian man standing beside a closed door. Confidant he would furnish the answer I sought, I asked, “Nothing?”
The old man nodded, pointed toward the door and whispered, “Nothing is here.”
I scoffed. “May I go in?”
The old man smiled and opened the door.
I entered and found nothing…waiting.
I just love the build of this. What a fun and great story about... nothing.
DeleteHow in the world did you think this up? Very entertaining.
Deletetotally surreal, loved it.
DeleteCleverly done. Intriguing piece about nothing that keeps the reader interested right up to the last line .
DeleteClever. Outstandingly clever. Reminded me a little of Stephen King's "Needful Things." Somehow, the idea of "nothing...waiting" carries such a sinister connotation.
DeleteSorry guys but no tales from me this week. I'm dealing with the vet's office and trying to work out a cancer treatment plan for my pooch that I can both afford and that also won't be overly harsh on his 13-year old system. I want what time he has left to be of the best quality and have already rejected radiation in terms of cost, severity to his welfare and potential short-term life extension. Anyway....I will try to get back before Thursday with my comments and on Friday with my vote. Regardless, I will definitely return with my humble literary offerings next week.
ReplyDeleteYou and your pooch are in my prayers, Patricia.
DeleteIt's hard to imagine what you're going through right now, Patricia, thoughts are with you. Stay strong.
ReplyDeleteThe Mad Italian 55.
ReplyDeleteDo the Hansard scribes resort to consulting a thesaurus when the members speak? My imagination says each member who is called will furnish his speech with as many fancy words as he can find, words which have caused agony in the writing and are so soon lost in the speaking. But this can be said about all our words, we utter, we hear, we ignore, we forget. A promise is quickly forgotten, a commitment ignored, a vote cast aside in search of favours from those higher up the party. Politics is a dirty game at the best of times.
In all honesty, I had to search a couple of times to even track down the prompt words here. Very nicely incorporated and, as always, I am prone to hang on to Leonardo's every word.
DeleteThe Italian seems particularly sage this week. I wonder what the politicians would do if they were required to include prompt words in their speeches?
ReplyDeleteMy apologies for not commenting or contributing this week. Family obligations have prevented me from opening the laptop.
ReplyDeleteI offer my sincere congratulations to Patricia, and to David as well for your superb entries. I hope to return next week.
Joe
This may be the lastest I've ever been. Oh well, at least I'm here.
ReplyDeleteThe Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #129
Pom-Pom Cannons!
Today, if you happened to wander over to the hidden door on the second flight of the back staircase, you’d find childish furnishings and climbable trees, and some people having way more fun than perhaps they ought. Georgiana, Cleopatra, Zehra, and Elle accounted for the shrieking, the first three because of their pom-pom war, Elle on account of Teddy balancing on top of the playground. Natasha was standing by with her thesaurus in case Elle wanted words besides ‘terror’ and ‘agony.’ Rosebud, of course, was merrily swinging on the tire swing, watching just in case.
if we're still voting, it has to be Nothing. That was just so surreal it's untrue.
ReplyDelete