I’m also going to mention three
others which each delivered a sparely depicted insight into tragedies: David T’ Atlantic Crossing, Bill’s ‘Becalmed and Patricia’s ‘God Speed.
Thank you all - a great and varied week
of reading. Look forward to next week’s variations.
Words for next week: ankle
fuliginous worry
Entries
by midnight (GMT) Thursday January 24th,
words and winners posted Friday 25th
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 uses 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.
Emerging [Threshold 232]
ReplyDeleteTook time to understand my confinement – painful word – within the women’s hut akin to imprisonment. That men were not permitted entrance. Explained why Raven forever in my ears if not my eyes, fulminating beyond the door. Eventually, believing I heard worry rather than his wanting to assault me I bid them help me outside.
I’d not anticipated him being seated; leg bandaged from knee to ankle, one arm immobilised. Nor the now-fuliginous – and totally appropriate – stink of his skin. His reluctance to even touch me – wrappings both protected and concealed – was it awareness of my burns? Or prelude to banishment?
prelude to banishment... what a great line. Nice use of fuliginous, a new word for me. I kind of pried mine into my story.
DeleteI agree, John. Fuliginous is a tough word. Great job!
DeleteI just heard a news story about a woman and her children that were banished to an isolated hut due to her menstruation, and they all died, possibly from asphyxiation (faulty heaters). Your story reminded me of that, and now I am sad reading it. Very good writing.
DeleteCongrats to you all for the top places last week and everyone else for great reading. Now to try and find something new to say about how good you are in this week's batch!!
DeleteDeep thoughts in this week's instalment,Sandra!
DeleteOh my. Can't wait to see where this goes. I will, however, state categorically that I am more than relieved my fears for the ending of this serial last week were unfounded. What a magnificent use of "fuliginous." I had such trouble with that word this week.
DeleteJeffrey here. John, David T., Bill, and Patricia, a well deserved collection of stories recognized for last week. Congrats to all of you.
ReplyDeleteDreaming the Beast
ReplyDelete1.3
I worry that in revealing what lay beyond the door, that surely served as a gateway into my reality, springing from the swampy horrors of the subconscious into the even darker twisted waters which we inhabit, will only release this nightmarish entity.
It is not my intention to have you twist your ankle running from what hell I have given metaphorical birth to, for once known you will feel your mind has been raped and your soul ripped to shreds.
But perhaps I am just being overdramatic?
Still I can see the fuliginous of it's wet, shifting skin...
Anything with wet, shifting skin should be avoided. Nice, Jerry. Truly horror writing at a high level.
DeleteA shivering tale to say the least. Nice use of the prompts.
DeleteThis was as much creepy in what was unsaid as it was in what was said. Does that make sense???? I hope so. Anyway, beautifully inserted prompt words and a little tale of total night terror properties.
DeleteSmooth and dark as Guinness ... but a lot nastier. Good stuff, Jerry.
ReplyDeleteSmooth and dark as Guinness... Sandra, you win the clever response award this week.
DeleteThanks, John - and fuliginous a new word for me too, but when I checked it I knew it'd be perfect for Prediction.
DeleteSmooth and telling. But even beasts need love...
Deletedepends on the beast, Dave, something that dark would be best avoided!
DeleteIt Takes a Village
ReplyDeleteLike a fuliginous sleuth on a mission from on high, she slipped through the hallways and smiled at the disabled cameras. She checked her watch and worried there were only two minutes of stealth time remaining. Quicker than expected for her age, she switched the files moments before security came back on line. Fully disguised, mingling with office workers as they filed out of the building, she walked in her mid-length pencil skirt, her telltale kankles on full display. An alert aide snapped a photo and furtively sent it to his contact at Wikileaks.
Mysterious story here, John. Nicely done.
DeleteMore please.
DeleteDislocating (slightly) and delicious.
DeleteI sense some trouble brewing. Has one wondering "What's next?" Well done, John.
Deletevery much 'what next?' I like this one.
DeleteShe should have stuck to wearing pant suits...
DeleteMystery and intrigue abound. I would really love to know more. There IS more...right? Right?
DeleteYour entry was an excellent choice for last week's top spot, John. Congrats!
ReplyDeleteGreat choice for last week's first place. Congratulations, John. Very worthy. And I am honoured to be mentioned in the company of such magnificent talents as Bill and David T. Thank you, Sandra.
ReplyDeleteBasic Instinct
ReplyDeleteWrists bound.
Ankles bound.
Limited movement.
But there, in the fuliginous surface of the crawlspace, a name scratched with a ragged fingernail. Final act of desperation.
I had been right to worry.
I should have known he couldn't be trusted.
So much told in such few words
DeleteNightmare situation some folks take a novel to explain. Excellent, Patricia, smooth-prompted as ever.
DeleteA devilishly horrific story, compact yet it shines and sparkles, like a gemstone.
DeleteCreepy and terrifying
Deleteit doesn't come better than this!
DeleteOh, to be bound and trapped in a crawl space... shiver shiver.
ReplyDeleteThe Chances of Anything
ReplyDeleteA fuliginous cloud rolled across Surrey, coughing toxic smoke and spewing spumes of soot, swallowing entire suburbs like some poisonous beast.
Daphne was swept along in the stampede of fleeing citizens. In the dash she twisted her ankle. Worried she would be trampled underfoot she took shelter in a doorway.
A gigantic three-legged monstrosity lumbered out of the miasma, incinerating a line of blue helmeted constables. She knew this mechanical atrocity from her grandmother’s tales.
1st September 1939, dawn of the second war, Chamberlain’s interplanetary diplomacy failed. From the direction of Woking came the caterwauling of rusted sirens.
David, I love stories with an historical twist and a Steampunk feel. Good use of the prompts.
DeleteSpent the weekend in Surrey, as it happens ... no sign of atrocity, thank goodness. This is a swell-wrought tale of threatenings.
DeleteLest we forget... Good tale! Thank you.
DeleteBlue helmeted constables... really good stuff. I love descriptions such as this. A fast moving, well written tale.
DeleteWhat a great opening sentence, David. It doesn't get any better than that. And you follow through with a splendid tale!
DeleteI fully appreciate the cleverness of this story, steampunk and all and realise that's why I can't do steampunk, I don't understand it but oh it works well in a story like this!
DeleteEchoing words already expressed: clever, well-written, well-wrought, historical twist. Steampunk atmosphere. I only have one word to add. Brilliant!
DeleteDaddy's Girl
ReplyDeletePapa worries about his poppet. Wants me to act like a perfect angel.
"Stay away from the fuliginous regions, sweetheart," he says.
But I like to get down and dirty.
I inherited his animal magnetism but none of his physical characteristics, save one, which could prove something of a seduction bugbear when it comes to sexual conquests. First impressions being paramount and all.
Still, a pair of custom-made, spike-heeled, patent leather ankle boots, takes care of that little birth defect.
Have to say I'm clueless about that birth defect, but much enjoyed the ballsy voice of this little poppet.
DeleteOh dear. I fear I have been too obscure. I have a habit of falling into that trap at times.
DeleteNot too obscure, not at all. We like being able to decipher small mysteries.
DeleteFar more likely I'm on the slow side when it comes to picking up clues. Don't fret yourself Patricia.
DeleteA pair of custom-made, spike-heeled, patent leather ankle boots will make anyone look good, I'd say. Do the make them in size 10 1/2?
DeleteCustom-made, spike-heeled, patent leather ankle boots can overshadow a lot of defects, Sandra. This was an enjoyable read!
DeleteI'm bad. I meant to praise PATRICIA with my comment.
DeleteMystery and clues abound in your story. I think I know what that defect is. You're on a roll this week Patricia. Good tight writing and use of prompts.
ReplyDeletecoincidence, just finished a crime thriller in which one of the characters needed 5 inch heels to overcome a defect - so this is well received by me and cleverly done.
DeleteU N F A I T H F U L
ReplyDeleteShe fell, hitting the asphalt hard, tears streaming and clutching a twisted ankle. Her face a fuliginous, ugly mask. She needn’t worry, as I would never harm her, physically at least.
“I’mSorryI’mSorryI’m- “
“Shut up you SHIT! I don’t care to hear your pathetic excuses!”
My wife certainly WAS sorry, the sorriest. We were done, it was over. A simple mistake, a one-time thing, I could possibly forgive, perhaps. But she had obviously planned this out ahead of time, and it was defiantly not the first or second time.
No one, not even my wife, can eat in MY car.
A good story about limits and rules. Good last line.
DeleteOne one level, terrifying. On most, actually. Good work Dave.
DeleteNo eating in the car, you shit. Man, some people just don't listen. Well done, Dave.
DeleteA man's car (or truck) is his castle. Best not to mess with it. A novel and well-designed idea, David.
Deleteoh nasty one - and again comes at the right time. My partner just got another car and his other half is already saying 'keep the car clean of litter, especially food!'...
DeleteI have known people like this. Luckily, I never pushed my luck. This was so enjoyable with such a lovely little humorous twist.
DeleteChange of focus [310]
ReplyDeleteBatiste Balincek, the differently-nuanced roles he was required to play – father to the adolescent Rowena, friend to Alex, acquaintance of the influential Filip and possibly genial host (or maybe evictor of) this Yanno Petzincek – snapping at his ankles like a sharp-toothed greyhound, indicated they take the path to the rear. They passed a rain-soaked barbeque, its tray a black fuliginous sea islanded with fat-circles; an un-emptied bin oozing meat-shrived bones.
Pettinger, senses worrying as ever, was aware of being watched. Not just the eyes of carrion crows but less malevolently. Or – identifying – maybe more: Valdeta, gowned in marching purple. Angry.
Things are about to happen, methinks
DeleteWhat I really liked about this were the hyphenated descriptions: sharp-toothed greyhound, rain-soaked barbecue and un-emptied bin. You do hyphens well, and dashes, and parenthesis.
Deleteand the meat-shrived bones, what a description!
DeleteThe descriptive passages here rose even above the overall brilliance of the episode itself. What a talented plume you do possess, Sandra.
DeletePride cometh before
ReplyDeleteBaden-Powell would’ve been proud of me. Three Boy Scout brothers; I knew all about ‘Be Prepared’. Done my homework, even to the extent of seducing the Arson Investigating Officer – his after dinner conversation on Mistakes Idiots Always Make enlightening (his pillow talk something else again). So, I wasn’t in the least bit worried what I’d done would be found out.
Not until a thick-ankled female, in the still-steaming ruins of my house, forced me to kneel and inhale the fuliginous stink arising from the blackened body of my husband, then snarkily suggested I should have checked the Station shift rota.
Lordy, lordy. Just goes to show that you can't be too thorough with research. Entertaining as always.
DeleteSo she seduced the wrong investigator. A whole different kind of pillow talk. Clever and entertaining.
ReplyDeletethis is a twist and a half, brilliant!
DeleteSquatter’s Rites 16
ReplyDelete“The plaintiff calls the spirit of Jacob Minor.”
Heads turned. Nobody was ankling to leave. A fuliginous cloud took human form. The dripping blood made a plop-sizzle on the floor as it walked to the witness stand.
“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, so help you God?”
“Sonny, if God could’ve helped me, I wouldn’t be here, but I do.”
“You can be seated,” said the judge.
“Don’t need to, your honor.”
“As you wish.”
Ben Cheveyo asked, “What worries you about this hearing?”
“How can Thaddeus give away my house when I never gave it to him.”
Quite novel, Jeffrey, calling a fuliginous cloud to testify. Your use of dialog to weave this episode is marvelous.
DeleteJD; thanks very much for the compliment and I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
DeleteClever one, Jeffrey. I'd rank this as your best to date. Simple but effective language really worked with this one. Very enjoyable.
DeleteJohn, thank you for following the series and your compliment. I'm glad that you've been enjoying it as well.
DeleteNice continuation. This one didn't move quite as quickly as some of the other episodes but a change of pace is always refreshing.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 173 - Height Of Decorum
ReplyDeleteMarmalade curled and swirled between passengers' ankles until he reached a figure seated upon a wrought iron bench. George was not far behind.
"No jumping up with sooty paws now," cautioned Miss Constance. She frowned at the tassel which dangled from the cat's mouth.
The train's chimney belched fulginous billows that coated everything...except for Constance, who remained a pristine lavender fashion plate, lace-gloved hands folded across the handle of her parasol.
"I was worried about you, Sis," said George.
"Best be more concerned about Clive," said Constance. "I do believe he is hesitant to board and that will never do!"
---------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------
Title says it all - so perfectly conceived and written.
DeletePerhaps I over analyze but there is a slight Orient Express feel, Clive is needed on the train and it was an all for one and one for all on the Orient Express. No over analyzing the excellent writing and prompt use.
DeleteSo much intrigue: the tassel hanging from the cat's mouth, Constance staying pristine despite the flying soot and the pending importance of Clive boarding. So well done.
DeleteI loved the contrast here - the sooty paws and belching chimney vs.
Deletethe pristine Constance.
and how did she stay pristine, what's the reason for the tassel and well, I just outright feel sorry for Clive, fearing for his future...
DeleteUnexpected Opportunity 5
ReplyDelete“Good afternoon General McDarren. How are Ruth and your family doing?”
“They're fine director, thanks for asking. Welcome to CP-51.”
“Thanks. Have we tried to communicate with them?”
“Specialist Cranston, please answer Director Armsford.”
“Sir, we've sent friendly messages in twenty languages and on all frequencies. There’s been no response or reply.”
Jack looked at the fuliginous field surrounding the ship, ankling to get there.
“We’ve used machine guns, grenades, and a LAW, with no effect. They hit the shield and fall to the ground.”
“I’m worried that you tried to kill our new neighbors. Maybe we’re the test rats.”
I was a little worried they fired at the new neighbors as well. I don't blame the director. Good one.
DeleteAnother good continuation. Keep up the momentum.
DeleteTHE PLAN
ReplyDeleteShe is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her hair is a stunning auburn crown, her eyes bewitching ice-blue diamonds set within a flawless face. Her lips are classic in their design – rich and moist with promised pleasure. Her figure is curvaceously statuesque, a voluptuously ravishing arrangement of peerless female flesh.
She undoubtedly was constructed by something divine, and I love every square inch of her.
Except, that is, for two very worrisome parts.
Try as I may, I can’t dismiss the fuliginous specter her bloated, warped ankles create. They are hideous.
I plan to cut them off.
A poetic feel to your description and you wove the prompts in very smoothly.
DeleteAnd what will you replace them with? Wheels?
DeleteI was thinking of pogo sticks.
Deletethose curved blade things, methinks. Great writing, had no idea where that one was going!
DeleteOuch! Nobody's perfect, you know. That last line caught me totally off guard. Very nicely done.
DeleteThat's one way to deal with imperfection. Your description of the woman, before the ankle reveal, was very good. I found myself salivating a bit.
ReplyDeleteStop the Week, I Want To Get Off (31)
ReplyDeleteJanuary’s a difficult month for traders, for me too, many anniversaries of passings which find me staring out at the fuliginous twilight skies and wishing myself back to younger days. My ankle, stricken with arthritis, doesn’t like too much walking about. My body, needing movement, seeks it to keep warm. Either way is a constant worry. Some funny things have happened; the next book will start with the customer who asked ‘sold anything lately?’ The first book is on Amazon, it will be in print soon and we’ll see if there are sales. We live in hope.
Ooh, Antonia - February's my month of such anniversaries; January just goes on so long ... Hope your book sells well - something to stock in the shop? Fill your window with?
DeleteBest wishes and prayers that your ankle and book show improvement. Another casually written story that captures life. Thanks so much for sharing these.
DeleteThis a little more introspective than usual but just as entertaining. That you have crafted these into book form is amazing to me. What treasures. How do we seek out the first book on Amazon?
DeleteJanuary's a difficult month for almost everything. Hate it, except for my birthday next week. Good luck with your book.
ReplyDeleteMy birthday is next week too, John - on the 31st. When is yours?
ReplyDeleteI'll raise a toast to you on the 31st; that's mine too.
ReplyDeleteWell, how about that! I shall return your toast, John.
Deletemethinks a small pile on the table as they come in. The cover photo is framed and hanging from the big display cabinet already... and changes, always the changes. We've had to accept a) the lock up isn't going to happen, we've not heard a word from them and b) the extra hands we were going to rely on aren't going to be reliable, one person too fond of drinking has moved in with someone also too fond of drinking. Sometimes I wonder why spirit hold back on things, won't let them happen, then we realise it, see the clarity of their vision. We only want reliability. We don't think either of these people will supply it. And so... I threw a pile of stuff at Wightbay and sold the big sofa which was destined for the lock up (for the in-between weary times...) and will see what else can go.
DeleteThe notes for the second book are already filling half a page... like... (phone call) I have a pine unit I want to drop into the shop. Don't want anything for it. (us) thanks! (phone call) crossed wires, we do want something for it and the stereo system still in it... I am not joking, any more than I am joking when I say a customer, hair wrapped in a huge towel, rushed into the shop from the hairdressers opposite, demanding to know if I knew anything about boilers, only hers was leaking and the water was going into the sockets... not sure where she thought she was, but the two elderly ladies in the shop could hardly stop giggling when she'd gone, asking why I wasn't a plumber... life is never dull in our shop!!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our two 31st January people!
The Mad Italian 90
ReplyDeleteThe word for the week is fuliginous and a finer metaphor to show the state of the parliament at this time could not be found. Gloom, doom, disaster, all being thrown from one politician to another under the sooty cloud of no-Brexit deal because of people’s inability to talk to one another. It’s seemingly selfish, to me, for if one had a bad ankle, the other would ask how it was progressing toward healing. Ask them about their feelings on the Brexit deal… no, cannot be done, so they all go home to quietly worry rather than discuss.
I am ever grateful to Leonardo for keeping me up to snuff regarding the comings and goings of my home country. I am sure he's far more informative than any slithery politician could hope to be.
DeleteKursaal (Episode One Hundred Forty Seven) - "Flight Of Fancy"
ReplyDeleteKeaton Harrier, Falconry Mistress, banded all her raptors. It ensured safe return of any skyward wayfarer that might indulge in an independent jaunt. The anklet provided necessary information to bring the bird home.
Her favourite avian, Kaleo the Hill Mynah, also wore a ring. Fond of solitary sojourns, he was seldom gone long, but his recent outing was lengthy. Keaton worried until Kaleo finally swooped and landed, albeit unsteadily, upon his perch.
Plumage sheathed with fuliginour ash and tail feathers scorched, the normally gregarious Kaleo said nothing as he hopped nervously from claw-to-claw and even refused his favourite grasshopper treats.
---------------------------------------------------------
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: Keaton Harrier, her raptors and Hill Myhah named Kaleo, have all featured in previous episodes.
Ever astonished by the trials and tribulations various members of your large cast have to undergo. I'd forgotten the raptors so nice to meet them again.
Deletejust about to close down when this dropped in. Mysterious one, Patricia, so many questions arising out of the bird's delayed return and disinclination to stuff treats. The plot thickens...
ReplyDeleteMany Happy Returns to our birthday boys. May you have many more...and all of them continuing to amaze us with your imagination.
ReplyDeleteThe Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #164
ReplyDeleteBeware!
A dragon scared flightless.
Throwing knives whizzing past her ears.
A fuliginous figure with infinite weapons.
A girl huddled between wings calling for help as her voice cracks.
The girl’s screams as an unlucky knife gashes her ankle.
A dragon now worriedly in flight.
Arrows follow knives until - safety.
“What happened to you?! Oh goodness, she needs help!”
What a wonderful sentence is "A girl huddled between wings calling for help as her voice cracks" - creates such an exciting, inciting image.
Deleteطرق مكافحة الحمام
ReplyDeleteشركة تركيب طارد حمام بالرياض
شركة طارد حمام بالرياض
شركة طارد حمام بالرياض