Friday, 31 August 2018

“Pleasure after all is a safer guide than either right or duty”


And following Samuel Butler’s claim, albeit out of step, given this is supposed to be a site of horror and noir, this week I’ve chosen two stories purely because they made me smile with sheer pleasure:  John’s fantastically-titled ‘Mishmash and Hodgepodge and a slight bit of Gobbledygook’ and Rosie’s ‘Well Then’, the 144th  instalment of ‘The Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess’ – a consistently delightful serial which never fails to entertain.

As, obviously, do you all, for which I thank you.                                                                                                                                                                                           
Words for next week: buckle  diagnose  parish

Entries by midnight Thursday 6th September, words and winners posted Friday 7th

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.

125 comments:

  1. Congratulations John and Rosie :)

    More poetry this time...

    Cycle
    --------

    Left on the steps
    On the parish
    Beholden

    Diagnosis: poor
    In myriad ways
    Dismissed detritus

    Eat their leavings
    Endure beatings
    Serve their decadence

    Lip service to
    Their living goddess
    Venerate her predecessor

    Clandestinely growing strong
    Reading banned texts
    Searching forbidden vaults

    Her forgotten regalia
    Easily stolen
    Perfect fit

    Lastly the cloak
    And titanium buckler
    Donning my birthright

    My apotheosis is swift
    With deadly precision
    I strike at the heart

    Blood blooms in her mouth
    The Empress is dead
    I take her place

    Wailing from the crib
    I look into her eyes
    A fleeting pity

    I leave her on the steps...

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    1. The feeling of an ode with this Zoe. Good use of detritus. You wove the prompts in very well and a rather prophetic ouroboros you created. Very enjoyable and thanks for sharing.

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    2. Much enjoy your enjoyment of words.

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    3. As Jeffrey commented, this has very much of an ode feel to it. Lovely composition of the words.

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    4. I really enjoyed this piece. Lots of vivid imagery, especially how she 'donned her birthright' and how the blood 'blooms in her mouth'.

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  2. Jeffrey here. Congrats to both John and Rosie for their excellent stories.

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  3. Squatter’s Rites 3
    A door upstairs slammed, the wind creating a dust devil at the top of the grand staircase.
    “No Jacob, what would pastor Kyle say?”
    “Leave the parish pastor out of this Candice.”

    There were belt buckles on the floor. A gust of wind ruffled my hair. It was then I remembered... there was no wind outside.
    “Damn it! He’s got a protective charm on him. I can still scare the shit out of him. All problems have a diagnosis.”
    The chandelier swayed, the front door opened, and I saw the bloody writing appear on the dusty floor.
    “Get out!”

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    1. Enticing opening sentence, and strong invitation to quit in the final.

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    2. Very ghostly ambiance. This is a most intriguing serialization with much to look forward to in the future...I'm hoping anyway.

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    3. I enjoyed the atmosphere of this piece, and the contrast between the ghostly conversation and the abandoned house.

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  4. Very eerie, Jeffrey. I would follow the demand in the last line.

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    1. Great ghostly atmosphere Jeffrey and effective use of the prompt words too. Now I want to know what happens next.

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  5. Well deserved wins to both John and Rosie. Excellent submissions. Applause...!!! Applause...!!!

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  6. ENFANT
    No one knows when it started, or if they did, they chose not to tell. Before it was over, more than a dozen innocent children had died horrifically, screaming until they had no voices, until the end. The few tiny corpses that they did find were wearing old-fashioned straight jackets, which were snuggly fitted and buckled tightly. Conjecture was that they had been stolen from parishes across Louisiana, and falsely diagnosed with various mental defects. It didn’t really matter, as their true purpose was to provide blood, and certain parts of their tiny bodies for unholy uses. Delicious, delicious blood…

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    1. Forgive me, I beg. I fear I will give myself nightmares, if that is any consolation.

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    2. ooh...David... chilling images and very clever insertion of the prompt words. I was so involved in the story I had to go back and look for them. The last two lines are darkly foreboding.

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    3. Thank you Ma'am. Happy to be of service.

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    4. Definitely nailed the morbid and creepy ambiance. It does take a certain palette for blood. well written with good prompt use.

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    5. Nightmarish indeed, and fulfilling all the requirements of the brief. That "screaming until they had no voices" especially chilling.

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    6. preeen!

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    7. an abundance of nightmares in this week's entries so far - and still another evening to go.

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    8. What to say that hasn't already been said about this one? Chilling...certainly. Nightmarish...for sure. But I think the "darkly foreboding" comment by Terrie is my personal favourite.

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    9. Bless you all, with your kind words of support. I shall endeavor to fulfill them.

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    10. Horrible and chilling. Sandra called out my favorite line - 'screaming until they had no voices'.

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  7. Demon-food

    Slashed by runes of demonic intent, and racked with pain, the parish priest trailed sticky ribbons of blood as he rolled over and faced approaching death.
    Claws, extending and retracting, scraped the floor. The stench of torment and torture dripped, steadily, as it stalked him with brutal precision: Black tongue flicking over yellowed teeth; tasting the scent of fear.
    It’s maw widened into the gorge of doom, as it leapt.
    Dog like it shook him; bent and buckled him, then delicately, and slowly, butchered flesh from bone.
    His screaming self-diagnosis was correct; it would be a lingering bloody death.

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    1. Nice how you captured his fear at the end. Well done descriptions and tension.

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    2. Another piece inserting visions of awfulness into the reader's head, especially that "bent and buckled him, then delicately, and slowly, butchered flesh from bone."

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    3. almost too vivid for an evening when it grows rapidly dark and shadows abound...
      (and Malfunshon is being played loudly in the next room...)

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    4. Great concluding line. And I can't seem to be anything but repetitive about the comments of others this week. Brilliant piece featuring a Hound of Hell.

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    5. A fascinating and dark scene. Sandra called out my favorite line 'bent and buckled him...'. Now I just wish my imagination wasn't so vivid... :)

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  8. Eighteen with a Bullet

    The doctor reeked of whisky. He touched the belt strapped around my thigh.
    “If I undo that buckle he'll bleed like a sow.”
    “Call yourself a medical man?” railed O'Brien. “You couldn't diagnose a wart on the end of my dick!”
    “My father was a parish surgeon,” came the pompous reply.
    “And you're jack shit,” O'Brien snapped back.
    The bullet had shattered my knee. Fever brought visions of myself as a peg-legged cripple, begging in the dirt.
    Three Crows stroked my brow.
    “The Outlaw will work his magics.”
    Soon, I hoped.
    The edges of the room grew hazy.


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    1. David, a very enjoyable continuation. Good dialog establishing tension and setting.

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    2. Excellent. I'm wishing him a speedy recovery.

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    3. he has many miles to go yet... keep this serial going, David!

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    4. This is turning out to be a most incredible serialization. I believe I've mentioned before that tales in a western setting are not my particular cup o' tea...but you are making a convert of me with this one!

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    5. David, I'm lovin' it

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    6. I really enjoyed the setting and characters in this piece, and I'm also very curious to see where this goes.

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  9. Shafted

    Ballads lauded my sweetheart. His yellow hair and polished silver buckles worn at the knee.

    I planned our nuptials while he undertook a nautical adventure. We wed when he returned but he was unfaithful. Broke my heart with dalliances. Yet, I was inconsolable upon his death. A diagnosis of toxins in the blood came too late to save him. The sea holds many perils.

    The parishioners left me alone with my grief as I watched his sailcloth-shrouded body sink below the ocean waves...followed by the empty vial whose contents assured his demise.

    How I adored my bonny Bobby Shafto.


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    1. Superb sea-faring tale, and with that final line the resurrection of a song remembered from infant school and since forgotten.

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    2. oh those old sea shanties! Good revival of one there, Patrica!

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    3. I love old sea shanties, and this piece took me swiftly to the ocean. Clever way to spin Bobby's tale!

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  10. A wonderful tale of a woman scorned. Very tight writing. I read it a few times to locate the prompts, well woven into the story.

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  11. Kursaal (Episode One Hundred Twenty Nine) - "House Of Horror...House Of Fun..."

    Ambrose Oxenford, diminutive proprietor of the Horrorhouse (horrific indeed) and Funhouse (more horror than fun) made no bones about being a defrocked parish priest. He claimed to have visited heaven and hell and, after diagnosing pros and cons of both, found the latter far more fascinating and thrilling. Ambrose's attractions were rumoured to be fashioned after his otherworldly experiences.

    Though primarily ambulatory amusements, Ambrose provided motorized vehicles for patrons who found walking difficult. By necessity, the routes were a little different and gave a whole new meaning to the warning:

    "Buckle up. It's going to be a bumpy ride!"

    -------------------------------------------------------
    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.
    ---------------------------------------------------------

    NOTE: Ambrose Oxenford, as well as his Funhouse and Horrorhouse, have featured in previous episodes.

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    1. A perfect, stunningly good example of the skill with which you continue your serial and make the prompt words look like they were ordered to measure.

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    2. A very enticing tale. We have a PS VR system and there's a shootem up ghost ride that my daughter loves...that came to mind when you mentioned ambulatory amusements. Dreadfully lovely use of prompts coupled with your skill.

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    3. more, please, of this enticing Horrorhouse!

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    4. Oh Ambrose sounds interesting indeed! I always enjoy every glimpse into Kursaal, and I love the idea of the two similar houses.

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  12. The Darkling Gods

    Below a spectral parish, steeped in flickered light,
    Bound in shadow-shaded dreamland and scored with patterned night
    Loom Darkling Gods, who buckle under weighted, star-strewn, skies
    And whisper, venom-dipped, diagnoses of sin-filled, spiteful, lies.

    Couched in dark and jagged places - drawing blood from passers-by -
    They taunt the weak and weary. They lash each maimed and weeping eye.
    Clouding every trickled hope, and thought, with haunting, deathly, dreams
    They echo in thick-stained, phantom, vapours as lingering voiceless screams.

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    1. This is SO good, Terrie! The mood you create with your words is terrific

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    2. Terrie, your poetry is very good! Visual and with deceptively fluid lines, "Clouding every trickled hope." Placed the prompts perfectly.

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    3. Dark poetry is indeed a prime description. The rhyming word is not always easy to pull off and to do so with such dark undertones is a priceless gift. You have some talent there!

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    4. Such beautifully-evoked horror.

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    5. A beautifully rich and chilling poem. I absolutely loved this. It is filled with vivid imagery. One of my favorites was 'Loom Darkling Gods, who buckle under weighted, star-strewn, skies'. Well done.

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  13. BEAUTY PARLOR

    Ellyn worked the shampoo into the stringy blonde hair. “What’s that? I’m scrubbing too hard? Quit whining! This ain’t a church and you ain’t a parishioner!”

    Ellyn viciously grabbed the soapy hair. “One more thing and your appointment’s over.” She plunged her scissors violently into the exposed throat. Like a balloon slowly deflating, the woman buckled over. Ellyn pushed her to the floor, where she splayed out like a tattered throw rug.


    Psychiatrist Matt Bohan stared intently through the one-way mirror. Diagnosis appears correct, he wrote in his notebook. Patient becomes increasingly violent with each inflatable doll we give her.

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    1. Hmm ... having so enjoyed the 'tattered throw rug' I felt a bit cheated to find it was only an inflatable doll. Is that very bad of me?

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    2. Very interesting, not sure where it's going but perhaps Ellyn is latex intolerant? I did enjoy it, each time I read it.

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    3. good idea, letting someone work out their anger on dolls. My daughter could do with some of those...

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    4. You certainly had me with that reveal! Even the reference to a "balloon slowly deflating" didn't clue me in. Very nicely done.

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    5. Perhaps not a good idea to give Ellyn scissors. A clever piece. I was surprised by the doll at the end as well.

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  14. Horses for courses [Threshold 219]

    It was not, of course, simply a matter of stealing a racehorse and requisite harnessing, buckling on a saddle and galloping away. For a start, no racehorses. No surprise there, but consolation in knowing we were far enough from parish boundary for Raven’s authority to command whoever had some to give a couple up.
    First we asked said ‘All mares, in foal.’ As did second, third.
    Raven diagnosed insubordination; offered the fourth a choice between castration of his stallion or himself which won us three not thoroughbreds but likely better suited to our needs. Plus the offer of a bed.

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    1. I hate to admit chuckling as I envisioned Raven making that offer in my mind. very good writing and prompt use.

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    2. saying so much in so few words and carrying the Threshold story ever onward.

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    3. I do believe (if I were male) and Raven had given me such a choice, I would have done the same. This episode moved the story along so smoothly.

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    4. Raven definitely does not sound like someone to ignore! Not sure they should trust the offer of a bed however. :)

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  15. Valley Of The Shadow

    Good book open at the 23rd Psalm, the elderly parish priest followed the procession. His hand rested on the shoulder of the condemned.

    "Didn't get my steak and kidney pie," came the shrill complaint. "Got steak and kidney pudding. Asked for steak and kidney pie!"

    The clergyman, tired and worn, nodded.

    "Buckles too tight," came the desperate whimper.

    The old priest made the sign of the cross and bowed his grey head.

    "It's homicide," came the panicked accusation. "Death certificate should read homicide!"

    Her miserable soul was received into the abyss with an assurance such diagnosis would be duly recorded.

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    1. Horribly bleak and doom-laden this. I see it acted out in shades of grey and brown,

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    2. Patricia, another well crafted story. All that anticipation and as Sandra mentioned, doom. However, we don't know how she died. That unwritten line is the best.

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    3. an encapsulated moment in a miserable life beautifully portrayed in dialogue. Brilliant.

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    4. I really enjoyed the final line, and the dialogue between the woman and priest.

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  16. Living-in

    Housemaid to the parish priest not what Ma promised me.
    ‘On your knees’ not a prelude to prayer.
    Click of unbuckling belt, slither of leather through cloth loops not a warning my Da was about to belt me – I soon began to wish it was – and when diagnosis of ‘over-eating unripe plums’ as explanation for my swollen belly was eventually proved untrue I knew I couldn’t show my Ma a liar and dealt with it as best I could.

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    1. Very different and sad, yet unfortunately a truism of what has happened. Still done with your usual efficiency and skill.

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    2. Few words but cleverly conveying underlying hints of priestly immorality coupled with fear of paternal authority. Such a sense of pathos too.

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    3. Such sympathy evoked here for the unfortunate victim...her story told so vividly and with compassion. There are times when the clergy have much to answer for!

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    4. A sad, well-written piece. I shivered at the line 'slither of leather through cloth loops', but thought the sound set the tone very well.

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  17. Change of focus [297]

    Car not yet stationary, Pettinger unclipped the seatbelt buckle, simultaneously depressed the handle of the passenger door –
    A multi-click of central locking.
    Filip, urgent, ‘Wait! Yanno, are you absolutely sure that’s Aleks?’
    A double check, ‘Who else would it be?’
    ‘Bait.’
    ‘What the bollocking chuff for?’
    Pettinger reach for the release.
    Filip’s fingers likewise for his biceps, gripping hard. ‘Yanno, wait! There’s likely danger –’
    Yanno tugged. ‘I’m not some feeble parish failure, let me go!’
    ‘Even the feeble-minded would diagnose Batiste Balincek as a rampant megalomaniac. It’s power play. And that isn’t Aleks, I promise you!’
    ‘Let me go!’

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    1. Unexpected events here. I liked rampant megalomaniac but what should I have expected of someone who dresses as Henry the VIII, in purple. Nicely written, Sandra.

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    2. a cold, vivid instalment, this one.

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    3. Again another nail biting instalment propelling the action forward with clever, and tight, dialogue.

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    4. NOT Aleks? Oh, come now. You can't leave it there and expect us to wait a whole week (or maybe longer) to find out! Shame on you! And, as an aside, I wouldn't want to be anywhere in Pettinger's path should that turn out not to be Aleks.

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    5. Vivid and tension-filled. I enjoyed the contrasting dialogue, and Pettinger's insistence.

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  18. Just Desserts

    The constable hooked his thumbs in his holster belt, his massive belly exerting even more force on the strained buckle. He stood above the homeless woman sprawled in an abandoned doorway.

    “Move along now, missy. Nobody shirks by in my parish.” He gave her a sharp kick.

    Through rheumy eyes, she looked up, grimacing. The constable grabbed her collar and she moaned before sinking her blackened teeth into his bare forearm. He shrieked and threw her to the pavement, his arm bloodied.

    “My diagnosis was horrifying,” she said, her voice weak. “You’re not going to like it.”

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    Replies
    1. Just desserts indeed ... very neat.

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    2. Great piece, John. You paint a clear and horrifying picture of this confrontation.

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    3. John, a nice tale of revenge. Good prompt use and some good tight writing.

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    4. images galore here - pure horror and well done.

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    5. I agree with all the above comments John. Compact and brilliantly dark descriptions of the interaction between the officer and the homeless woman. Good insertion of the prompt words too

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    6. Well, the prompts just simply blended into the story here and was a tale that grabbed your attention from the beginning. I could see this as a five minute short in a television horror anthology. Great visuals.

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    7. Patricia said it well - a gripping, visual piece. I loved the woman's response.

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  19. Cripplegate Junction/Part 155 - Arm's Length

    Clive Bailey, now unbelievably much shorter than the Station Master, noticed a little girl wearing a lavender princess dress and small boy, proud in soldier's uniform, dragging a canvas satchel with bronze buckles along the platform. The bag was lettered: "Property of Cripplegate Parish School." From beneath the flap, a tiny orange fuzzball mewled piteously for freedom.

    "You've been diagnosed with something contagious," shouted the girl from a safe distance. She wrinkled her nose. "Don't know what any of that means, but Matron said to keep well away, didn't she, George?"

    George polished his tin military medals and said nothing.

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    1. Oh my, is that Marmalade in that satchel? My writing is improved because of all the very good writing you and the others post. This story is no exception.

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    2. now there's an intriguing instalment for sure!

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    3. This a high-speed, long-distance lurch back to the beginning, methinks - 'Let's go round again'?

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    4. Oh no... Clive is shrinking ….. or is the Station Master growing? Cripplegate is so addictive Patricia. I totally missed the 'parish' prompt word on the first read.

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    5. Terrie, maybe Clive is simply moving further away?

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    6. I loved the imagery presented in this piece, and the hook with that comment from the girl. Your characters and scenes are always so rich!

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  20. Summer Eulogy

    The parish steeple’s shadow, shorter grows.
    Let not the cold, gather in your heart.
    Look to the meadows full of primrose
    and think of your sweetheart.

    Our parting is sorrow’s tears.
    I will return
    and mark another year.
    My siblings aren’t so taciturn.

    They enjoy pumpkin spiced eggnog,
    leaf piles for jumping,
    A slow burning yule log.
    An orchard ripe for scrumping.

    In time, boots will be buckled.
    Stop crying, don’t be so grandiose.
    Hug your significant other and snuggle
    Love is never hard to diagnose.

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    1. Oh... there are some wonderful images here Jeffrey. 'Meadows full of primrose' ….'Leaf piles for jumping' 'An orchard ripe for scrumping' what a brilliant poem. Clever rhyming pattern too. I enjoyed it so much I didn't even notice the prompt words.

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    2. A clever composition indeed with some beautiful images. I liked the little manipulation of words related to "parting is such sweet sorrow."

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    3. A beautiful poem filled with lovely imagery. Some of my favorite phrases were 'Look to the meadows full of primrose' and 'An orchard ripe for scrumping'.

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  21. Stop the Week; I want To get Off (12)
    Before the floor buckled under the weight of the boat windows, they were taken to the marina for viewing.. It’s like someone diagnosed a medication for Shaun based on common sense… he’s a brilliant salesman, good at buying, useless at planning a shop floor. He does what I want and then adds to it but instigating it? No way.
    Our local parish church has a magnificent war memorial currently being renovated in time for the 100th anniversary of the first World War. It reminds me there is a big window display to do this year. It will be a pleasure.

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    1. I really look forward to your weekly 'stop the week' instalments Antonia.
      You incorporate the prompt words so expertly they just melt into the observation and I usually have to go back to find them.

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    2. This is so very "village shop" in its nature. Such marvellous glimpses into the daily comings and goings of a seller of (sometime unusual) merchandise. I look forward to hearing more of this "big window display" to commemorate the First World War.

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    3. As writers we are used to making fiction real, keeping real life real is very hard. Entertaining as always.

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    4. Another great installment, Antonia. Superb use of diagnose.

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    5. I always enjoy these glimpses of shop life. Something about the floor buckling under boat windows tickled my imagination. Love it!

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  22. Congrats to winners!
    Patricia, the book 'By 'Royal' Appointment is under way. Shaun loves the idea of it, has been telling me over and over to write it down and I should, there are many utterly stupid questions I have managed to forget in the face of the new ones.
    Like today.
    customer: are they memory cards?
    Shaun: yes. They're £2 a pack.
    Customer; I'll take all 4.
    Shaun: (getting them out) that'll be £8 please.
    Customer: did you add that up in your head?

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    1. This comment made me chuckle Antonia.

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    2. This made me smile and for that, I thank you. Magnificent news on the book, by the way. Please keep us up to snuff on that!

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    3. People say the weirdest things.

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    4. a good part of the book will be devoted to the strange things customers say. One favourite is the mono water skis, which a customer insisted were for one legged skiers... I'm with you, Sandra, it is dispiriting, the level of ignorance is frightening at times. Customer buying an extension lead telling me how she moved the freezer, broke the extension lead she had, didn't turn it off at the wall and got a shock from it. She's late 40s, 50s, married, got a home of her own, and is that stupid.

      I'm about 6000 words into the book. Nowhere near enough but two migraines this week have rather knocked the inspiration out for a while.

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  23. The Mad Italian 71.
    It has been proposed some parish boundaries be changed, who will they favour, we have to ask. Will any person living there care anyway? If one casts an eye over the political scene at the moment, indifference would be diagnosed, for people tire of endless accusations .We should be saying, but somehow we never do, stop the bickering, buckle down and get some sensible legislation in place that will protect all people, no matter their religious leanings or their gender. Too many people are suffering too much abuse for being themselves. This does not bode well for future governments.

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    1. Superior use of the prompt words here. In fact, I had to read this more than once to even see where they were. As always, Antonia, insightful and thought-provoking. Sorry...I meant, our esteemed Leonardo!

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    2. Leonardo always has very keen insights. Many powerful lines in this piece.

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  24. After I'm Gone

    Glimmer watched, eyes wet, as Sayla buckled her brother’s sword around her waist. There was a finality in how Sayla tightened the scarred strap, and let her hand linger on the leather-wrapped hilt, before looking up into Glimmer’s eyes.

    Both born under the Emerald Moon in the Albaenorin parish, they had been closer than kin, and then closer still.

    “After I’m gone, do not let them diagnose you as an Ironblood,” Sayla said. “Leave with Aella, if it comes to that.”

    “But how will you find me? It may be years…”

    Sayla kissed her. “I will always find you.”

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    1. oh lovely piece, Zaiure, the prompts melt into this and become an essential part of, brilliant.

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    2. Gorgeous, rich and strong in narrative.

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    3. Beautifully epic-flavoured piece with your usual elegance of words. Magnificent fantasy basis for what I hope is but the tip of an iceberg adventure.

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  25. Thank you everyone! I’m surprised and delighted for myself and Rosebud.

    The Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #145
    A Minor Mishap


    Leaving the parish of wraiths behind we wandered through the skies around unusual treetops and clouds hiding icy daggers. We were nearing Cecily’s when Hex spotted a loose turnbuckle below the mainsail. She assumed she had flipped it open on her way down but with a closer look diagnosed it with terminal rust. Luckily we had a replacement that was even the same shade of blue! We unhooked the cables, swapped the two and went blithely onwards.

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    1. And now I know what a turnbuckle is :)

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    2. Some nice technical aspects to this particular installment. And the adventure continues....I'm very happy to see.

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    3. I love the first line describing their journey through the sky. Beautiful imagery. I agree with Patricia that it was also fun to see the technical side to their adventures.

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