I thank for your merciful acceptance
of last week’s dice-throwing and have given myself a strict talking to about
responsibility and not shilly-shallying.
Hasn’t made it any easier, I’m no happier about the ones I ‘discard’ in
the interest of naming a winner, despite the very considerable pleasure I –
and, judging by the comments, the rest of you – gain from so many of them.
Neither am I able to be very analytical as to why; it’s more often than
not just a gut kick. Without doubt this week, despite roses and
patchwork people, one of the biggest was John’s ‘Ragged breath’ – truly
visceral, as Terrie said – and very closely followed by Zaiure’s ‘Poison’. I am grateful for the opportunity to read all of them.
Words
for next week: pile solstice vicarious
Entries
by Midnight (GMT) Thursday 20th, words
and winners posted Friday 21st December
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.
Change of focus [307]
ReplyDeleteWhatever Rowena Balincek wanted to believe, she was no boy. Pettinger, grabbing and enfolding her, was taken unawares by an entirely unanticipated reaction. He was still deconstructing this when another body – smaller, bonier and, for an instant, shockingly unwelcome, piled into them, grasping each of them with equal affection.
‘Papa! I thought you were shot! Did you see me on the roof?’
Unable to move, ‘I did! What were you –?’
‘Hiding! From Rowena! We’re same birthdays; she’s my solstice sister –‘
Pettinger relinquished the girl. Turned and hugged Aleks, trusting his son wouldn’t perceive his fervour as somewhat vicarious.
Luckily, Aleks arrived when he did and not a few moments later, when it might be even harder to explain. You created awkwardness well.
DeleteVery good writing of the situation here. You conveyed the emotions an awkwardness well.
Deletehow to write dialogue without saying 'he said' so there is room to keep the tension tight.
DeleteI agree with all the above Sandra, skilful use of dialogue creates the tension so well and reveals little awkward moments that are easy to visualize.
DeleteToo cute. You capture Pettinger's awkwardness perfectly. To say nothing of Aleks' enthusiasm.
DeleteWho would have thought a foul mouth priest and a ruthless mobster could team up for a good showing. Regardless, I’m grateful for the mention.
ReplyDeletecongratulations, John! brilliant writing.
DeleteThe Fast and the Curious
ReplyDeleteThe annual Winter Solstice Run at the Gates of Hell delivers a challenge like no other. Fifty miles through unthinkable obstacles and extreme heat assure multitudes of piled up bodies along the grueling course. Cloven hooved minions jeer at runners who manage to make it through to the stretch and jab at them with red-hot barbed lances.
Having survived last year’s race, I decided to vicariously experience the event through my nephew, Jared. Since he was a boy, he never could turn down a dare. How better to punish my brother who recently fled to Barbados with my wife.
That's some wicked, clever, well-paced thinking!
DeleteSo, he went to Jared! What was his reward for surviving the race? I'll agree fully with Sandra about your story.
DeleteThis is wickedness at its best (worst?), John. Poor, unsuspecting Jared. Very nicely done.
Deleteoh good one - again!
DeleteCleverly written making it easy to visualize the event and the course the contestants must run.
DeleteA darkly wicked tale … I for one would not want to mess with Jared's uncle.
What images this doth conjure and what a delightful little tale of revenge. Wicked, indeed!
DeleteCongrats John, and thanks for the mention!
ReplyDeletecongrats, Zaiure, that Poison piece was so so good!
DeleteCongratulations to both John and Zaiure. Difficult choices to make last week, to be sure, but I do believe the cream managed to rise to the top of the milk!
ReplyDeleteJohn and Zaiure, great stories for last week and well deserved selections for the winners circle.
ReplyDeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 169 - Wind Ups
ReplyDeleteMarmalade was a Gemini Cat, born at the Summer Solstice. As such, he was exceptionally bright, communicative and appeared to actually understand human language, particularly that of the Station Master. Not one to live vicariously, Marmalade enjoyed patrolling his domain and took self-appointed duties very seriously.
From the front of the Baggage Car, where piles of steamer trunks and portmanteaux waited to be loaded, Marmalade watched George approach with determined stride.
The Station Master scratched Marmalade's ears.
"Resembles a lifesize version of Christopher's clockwork soldiers, does he not meine kleine Katze?"
Marmalade rippled his luxurious tail in agreement.
---------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------
'self-appointed duties' is perfect. Do I sense the strengthening of an alliance?
DeleteAn easily pictured scene of Marmalade patrolling his 'Pride Lands'. Sure glad it wasn't Saberagen's Berserkers the Station Master was referring to. A nicely written story Patricia.
DeleteI like the idea of refusing to live vicariously. Leave it to Marmalade to remind one to go for the gusto.
DeleteMarmalade is so much a self contained determined cat. I love the rippling of the tail in response. Mine don't do that, they indulge in swinging their tails from side to side, it's the speed they do it which says either 'I'm angry' or 'I'm pleased.'
DeleteC R A P
ReplyDeleteA nasty little office, its owner leaking fluids from various natural and man-made orifices. Oops. Spread over the floor tiles, like a pile of dogshit. The dirty window giving me nothing worth seeing.
Not important.
What was important, on this oh-so-special Winter solstice, was the cash inside the open safe in the cluttered closet.
As a would-be gumshoe, living vicariously through newly-dead Ted for years, I was ready to take my turn.
Then, the gun barrel on the back of my neck. I heard/felt the hammer pull back, and the pressure release as the trigger was pulled.
“It’s not f-!“
Oh dear, this well-drawn scene ending badly, but unsurprisingly. Excellent opening paragraph.
DeleteThe image I had, from your opening, was very 'Marlowean' if that's even a word. Well written and a good ending.
DeleteThank you Sandra and Jeffrey. And yes, I was trying for a touch of the noir.
DeleteThe pressure being released as the trigger was pulled was very cool. How astute of you to think of that.
DeleteThis is good stuff, David! Sounds like just desserts for the would-be gumshoe. I loved the line 'The dirty window giving me nothing worth seeing.'
DeleteJD pinned down my favourite line in this, very clever use of words.
DeleteOooh David each week you offer a rich variety of 100 word tales.
DeleteSuch enjoyable reads, clever use of the prompt words and sharply effective imagery, ty.
It’s all I can do to try and keep pace with the rich stories you all have crafted. And like I said, I’m having a ball!
DeleteDefinitely fits wonderfully into the film noire category. I can easily see this on the silver screen of days gone by. Luverly job!
DeleteWhen new life means death [Threshold 228]
ReplyDeleteRaven’s attention distracted, I – and Tosca beneath me – sensed a change. Behind the stern-faced chief, a muttering. A heightened interest, focused totally on me. My skin crawled beneath what I knew was vicarious appreciation of my fecundity. I registered again the absence of their women. When the word ‘solstice’ impinged, I knew the danger we were in.
Tosca, equally disturbed, side-stepped and barged Raven’s mount, tipping me close enough to hear, ‘The pile of branches beyond them is a sacrificial bonfire. Spur Tosca hard through. I’ll grab a brand and follow. Set it alight as we pass. Count of three.’
Narration is as hard as dialogue for a scene and you did it exceedingly well.
DeleteCount of three... that was a great ending, knowing action is sure to follow. I could really sense the MC's discomfort, being the only woman.
Deleteseems everything's about to go 'wrong' around here, love the short clipped sentences toward the end which were great to increase the tension.
DeleteI so enjoy this serialisation Sandra. Well packed 100 words with lots of action, great characters, smooth insertion of the prompt words and weekly cliff-hangers. Brilliant.
DeleteGreat ending line. The shortened sentences added much to the tension. I do hope Tosca is fleet of foot...or hoof.
DeleteEditrix
ReplyDelete‘Pile-driver.’
Christ, if I was paid a pound for every sex scene written by a man which included that I’d be rich as Croesus! This one went from bad to worse: as if a so-called stripper, with the name of Solstice, selected from a photograph, paid for in advance, would be impressed! Or whimper, ‘Harder, baby, harder.’ at the end of a working night.
Not for the first time I wondered if he thought I got some vicarious pleasure from reading such self-aggrandising tosh. But this the last time I’d read my husband’s pen-name novels.
Last one he’d ever write.
I like it. As a fan of such tittilating tales, it’s nice to see the genre feted in such a manner. Bravo, Sandra!
DeleteNow, how did she know he'd never write another novel? Another good story, which isn't surprising.
DeleteIs it too late to change her mind? Can the world get too many pile driving novels?
DeleteIt sounds as though this is not a lady to mess with... better to stay on her good side, if that were possible. Nicely done, Sandra!
Deleteoh I like this, a lot!
DeleteYou execute these types of risque tales so very well and always with a kicker of an ending. This would have to count among one of my favourites.
DeleteUnexpected Opportunity 2
ReplyDelete“Let’s examine the situation. It’s the summer solstice and a full moon. It comes in from the north-east, misses the museum, and plows into the field. The furrow has freshly piled dirt around it. No fancy prank here. Some pretty fine flying.”
Roy vicariously remembered being in Afghanistan as he walked toward the object when a white-yellow globe surrounded it. His reflexes kicked in and he fired three shots at the object.
“I couldn’t have missed. That field must have deflected the shots.”
“Lucy, send me some backup. Then contact the Feds. There’s a crashed UFO.”
Roy may have pissed off the aliens when he fired the shots. Time will tell.
DeleteI agree with John. Firing those shots may have been ill-advised. I hope we find out. Well done, Jeffrey!
DeleteI believe we may have just wandered into Area 51. Wonder if we'll get out alive.
DeleteSquatter’s Rites-14
ReplyDelete“We’ve won the first two trials, Mr. Minor.”
“I’m pleased cheveyo you bring honor to your name and family.”
“They’ll pile on now. The attention the case has garnered. I’ll need to put you on the witness stand.”
“Why? My papers weren’t vicarious.”
“Think as we think. This would be like the solstices changing, what’s normal would be turned upside down.”
“That was genius. Arguing that since a fertilized ovum changes during it’s gestational life. Death is only a gestational change for the body on the same journey. The body is destroyed not the soul, ahote aren’t brain dead.”
Interesting concept, gestational changes compared to other things besides the ovum variety.
DeleteInteresting concept indeed. Your imagination does often move in mysterious ways, Jeffrey...but thoroughly entertaining ones nonetheless.
DeleteOrchestrated
ReplyDeleteThe Winter Solstice Recital was imminent. Cacophony knew his reign was destined to be ephemeral, but he'd make the most of it. No living vicariously through external melodics this time.
His chaotic darkness seduced woodwind, almost corrupted brass entirely, made a mockery of percussion and led strings totally astray. His huffs and puffs turned the neat piles of sheet music into a maelstrom of breves, crotchets and quavers.
Then, the door to the auditorium opened and a tranquil, incandescent presence crossed the threshold.
Cacophony frowned petulantly and stamped discordant feet.
Damn his big sister, Harmony. She always ruined his fun.
Sweet ... second para a delight and I'm almost thinking this is innocent.
DeleteI think I've heard that song, the one by Cacophony. It must be difficult to make a mockery of percussion. Nicely done and entertaining as all get out. I went to college in Georgia. They said that a lot; all get out.
DeleteYou humanized an orchestra...how wonderfully lovely and very good use of the prompts.
Deletesuper twist on the prompts in this one, great stuff!
DeleteClever, Patricia, I really like this a lot.
DeleteBeautifully written second paragraph, Patricia. I pity those instruments. Well done!
DeleteCONSCRIPTION 7: MOUNTING FERVOR
ReplyDeleteThe dome rose, revealing a pile of four creatures no larger than a child’s fist. Each of the wingless beasts was covered with yellow-green skin hanging above feet with two knotted toes ending in curved claws.
A miniature vulture’s head with skin as pasty-gray as a bald, long-dead chicken sat atop each monstrosity. Round, red eyes burned like embers above narrow beaks that hooked downward into sharp points. They stumbled about like faulty wind-up toys but stayed on the serving platter.
The mutant crowd’s fervor reached its solstice. It, like I, had vicariously become the creatures.
Let the show begin!
I'm not sure if I want to know what comes next... who am I kidding? Of course I want to know what comes next. Good descriptions of these creatures given.
DeleteYou seem to have a whole menageries of luridly awful beings to hand. 'Knotted toes' especially imaginative.
Deletewhere do these strange nasty beings come from, your nightmares?
DeleteI knew it was going to be something unpleasant under the domed plate. This serialisation really captures a readers attention.It gets better each week.
DeleteWhat an absolutely delightful description of the monstrosities found beneath the dome. But to vicariously become the creatures? Now that's the stuff of nightmares.
DeleteAt the least they are the life of the party. Lovely(?) descriptions and a well written story.
ReplyDeleteA Home spun Tale: A Short Fictional Autobiography-8
ReplyDelete“Matthew, you’re a sly one. You had me fooled. The innocent gutmensch vicariously living in the stories of your classmates.”
“What do you mean Ms. Tosca?”
“I was wondering how your name appeared on the Ripper Knife list.”
“Yes, I won for my story, The Lycan and the Maid.”
“You’re almost believable Matt and for a while I thought you might get it.” You hacked my computer, turning your pile of word vomit into a winner. You’re out Matt, my school will enter a solstice of pure unadulterated writing.”
Outside the room, a teddy bear was ROTFLHAO.
My mind went off on a couple of tangents here. First, the werewolf reference to "lycan," of course, and then, a meandering to Lord Lucan (similar name) and Sandra Rivett. You never fail to provide plenty of food for thought.
DeleteKursaal (Episode One Hundred Forty Three) - "THE AMOROUS AFFAIRS OF ARBUTHNOT JESTER/PART TEN"
ReplyDeleteUnlike Benny (who was cavalier about Lenny's lovelorn situation), Arbuthnot Jester truly wanted Lenny to experience romance instead of living vicariously through his brothers' conquests.
Arby was concerned when Lenny didn't appear for dinner. He consulted with ex-sweetheart, Primrose Lee, exilirologist and practicing visionary. Primrose was delighted to welcome Arby back into her boudoir. The velvet chaise lounge by the fire was piled high with comfy pillows. Champagne chilled in a steel ice bucket.
Arby hadn't intended to dillydally but it was Winter Solstice, longest night of the year, and Arby loathed wasting intimate hours on superfluous chat-chat...even investigative chit-chat.
--------------------------------------------
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: The Jester Brothers (Benny/Lenny/Arbuthnot) and Primrose Lee have all featured in previous episodes.
Besides Lenny gone missing, this was a happy little tidy story with everyone getting what they wanted, and then some, apparently.
DeleteI'd've been surprised had Arby done anything other than indulge at the expense of investigating Lenny's safety. Smooth prompts, as ever.
Deletechampagne v. searching for Lenny, no contest...
DeleteKhandar 26
ReplyDeleteUxator finished reading the book from the orphanage. Memories piled into his mind. None of them vicarious. The boy who leads the torture. The adults who allowed it and the people who caused it, David Starr and Kalvan Salveon, Lord Galiel’s father. He remembered the Heims Solstice, that rainy night when he ran away. The voice in his head had told him.
“Umbrae will obey your commands.”
“I’m no mage.”
“Escaping doesn’t mean freedom. Become a smith and master the night as you master your mind. When you are free, then cleanse the stye affecting your eyes.
I wish I had a voice in my head giving me good advice. Hopefully Uxator's voice leads him in the right direction.
DeleteHard to believe this serialization has reach episode 26 already. Be very interesting to see where this goes.
DeleteTo Pierce The Veil
ReplyDeleteSeasons come and go. Summer Solstice. Winter Solstice. I've lost track of time. The pile driver and jackhammer assault my ears with relentless pounding. I exist vicariously through memories not necessarily my own.
One day, I will escape this torment. Embrace the darkness beyond the curtain where all is tranquil and silence reigns.
The beings dressed in white who lurk in corners say I've already transcended and there is no peace on the other side. That I should be aware of that since I'm already there.
They are wrong.
I know they are wrong.
Please tell me they are wrong.
Assertive, then hesitant, then pleading, how quickly they find doubt creeping in and in doing that, carrying all our fears and doubts with them. Have we not heard these words many times in different ways? Scary.
DeleteStunning depiction of collapse of belief.
DeleteWouldn't it be nice if this sort of thing was something that could never happen? Well done, Patricia.
DeleteStop the Week, I want to get off (27)
ReplyDeleteI think the time has come when we should all be experiencing Christmas vicariously, through the children, benefactors of this misunderstood festival. The solstice is more important to some, the turning point of the winter. I have plans for the Winter window, a contrast to the teddies who remain unsold so will be with me for another year. That’s good, I love to have them there. It’s been slow as the weather has been so bad, torrential rain, looming black clouds, chill temperatures so we pile on the clothes and be sure to put thermal insoles in the boots…
You have so aptly described the foul weather our area has been experiencing this week Antonia, and your observations about solstice ,Christmas and winter are well made. Flawless insertion of the prompt words too.
DeleteThe gloomy side of the Christmas holiday is well presented here, Antonia.'children, benefactors of this misunderstood festival' is a brilliant use of language.
DeleteYes, the children do make out like bandits this time of year. I'm sure the teddies you speak of are of the bear variety and not an item of lingerie, though now I see you wrote 'who' when referring to the teddies, so they must be bears.
DeleteChristmas definitely belongs to the children. Don't know that I ever truly believed in Santa, but it was beneficial to play along. Ah, but teddies...now, I've always believe in them. Delightful vignette and so seasonally apt.
DeleteBeing super-cynical, I fear Christmas belongs to retailers and those who peddle promises of perfection. But I admit to still having mt teddy bear, snug in a quilt I made him
DeleteThe Mad Italian 86
ReplyDeleteThis very night the Opposition leader finds himself in a pile of trouble through muttering words that may or may not have denigrated the Prime Minister. This is one time he should have indulged in a vicarious conversation, rather than a real one. Who now can prove one way or the other? It will ever be there to haunt him. The solstice approaches, the MPs will return to their constituencies, whether they will work during the holiday is anyone’s guess. My guess is – no, for none are committed to their role as local leaders, no matter what they say.
Politics, after the fighting is over, seem to be reverting to a lose-lose situation in many instances.
DeleteSome accurately on point observations here. But then I find this to be the norm when it comes to the viewpoint of our Mad Italian. What an asset he would be to any modern government.
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 37
ReplyDeleteAtlas shuddered, took an offered bowl piled with something reeking, and settled in an isolated spot at the edge of the shadowy push and pull of bodies.
Celery-stalk powder began clouding his thoughts as it permeated the room.
Suddenly he was alert; lounging in a corner, he saw Moloch, leader of the reptilian thorny-devil gang.
Moloch’s obsidian-chip eyes glittered in the smokey solstice-shadows as he leered at the ‘dillo girl who arrived earlier.
She was collecting used bowls.
Although Atlas understood the vicarious nature of Fat Franks he was shaken to realise interspecies mating was a reality in this place.
Well, that was a very fast and unexpected descent into the depths, just as I was wallowing in the enjoyment of 'the shadowy push and pull of bodies' - an apt and wonderful phrase - I'm as shaken as Atlas.
DeleteTerrie, the sentence about Moloch was exceptional. I hope he doesn't manage to mate with the 'dilo girl.
DeleteLove...love...love it. Could easily replace the cantina scene in "Star Wars." Brimming with imagery...sight, sound and smell. How DO you do it?
DeleteAtlas better get used to the fact that nothing is a surprise at Fat Frank's. Very entertaining, Terrie.
ReplyDeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 38
ReplyDeleteA blushed glow from the pale solstice-moon filtered through boulder piles and wilting bushes as Nigel led Tosca to the dwindling, salty, sulphur-pool where wounded soldiers could soak in healing waters. He was acutely aware of the skeletal creature following him, but Tosca hummed happily.
Apart from lice scurrying though sparse hairs, Tosca’s skin was naked, wrinkled and showed several weeping sores. His legs were spindle-thin and it was apparent his tail had once been broken, and poorly mended.
Nigel had seen many strange breeds but never anyone like Tosca. He seemed to be a vicarious blending of several creatures.
I liked this simple little break in the action while, hopefully Tosca mends a bit. Such an appealing character, this Tosca. Lice and all.
DeleteThe Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #160
ReplyDeleteVillains Lie
Through the solstice night we fly, to my old leaf pile hideout. The perfect place for vicarious living. Somehow people forget about that old siding that goes into the forest. Possibly because it’s not on the maps anymore after that one fire that I had nothing to do with.
Dang Rosie, that was good. So poetic and rhytmic. Thank God the princess is innocent of the fire...
Delete