So ... back to judging, with
renewed vigour having written 10K of my current wip and brought it to a
first-draft close (and no, no nearer self-pubbing 1, 2 and 3, having been
visited with writing inspiration for 4). Also with renewed relief, having seen,
once again, that there is rarely a consensus when each of you is given a choice and
discover – as I do weekly – that it is the elimination of two or three others which
is often harder than the naming of the winner.
This week no exception: from a
shortlist of four, I name John as
winner, for ‘The last shebang’, with David’s
‘Children’s Crusade’, Patricia’s ‘Give
it rest’ and Jerry’s ‘The Council’ as runners-up.
Please keep them coming - both posts
and comments.
Words
for next week: ballot distant smith
Entries
by midnight (GMT) Thursday 27th June,
words posted Friday 28th
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.
Hiatus [Threshold 255]
ReplyDeleteI might have received more attention had theirs not been directed to the election of whatever their equivalent of prioress. More care, since, supposedly wealthy and well-connected, I received many secret late night visits, heard many convoluted requests for information about the voting intentions of others in the order. Some held distant memories of similar ballot negotiations in the dim and distant past (the recently-deceased in her eighty-third year); others sought to press their own credentials, as forcefully as any hammer-wielding blacksmith.
I stayed longer than intended, recuperating from two very stressful years on the run.
Then the poisonings began
Politics abound, even at the priory. It is, though, good to see she's recuperating.
DeletePray tell, who would be using poison at a priory? Good descriptions about the machinations of politics. A well done story, Sandra.
DeleteJohn, fantastic story for top honors. David, Patricia, and Jerry, worthy stories for honorable mention.
Deletenow there's a twist I didn't see coming, poison... clever one, this could go anywhere and probably will.
DeleteThis was such an interesting episode. I agree with Antonia, this could easily verge in many different directions from here...and I look forward to whichever path it might take.
DeleteI'm honored to be among the top writers this week, though I would have chosen Sandra's Dawn Watcher. A minuscule literary masterpiece.
ReplyDeleteMany congratulations to John for ascending to the top of the podium last week. Great choice, Sandra! I would also like to add what an honour it is to be counted among David and Jerry for the runner-up position.
DeleteI may have to beg forgiveness after this. You see, I was trying to close out my ghost of travelers past serial because I’m just not cut out for serials. I don’t know how you guys keep track of these things. But I couldn’t fit it into 100 words. So I spaced it out. Possibly an illegal act.
ReplyDeleteMelancholy Traveler
The ghost of travelers past lay scattered in the bone pile. He watched the distant ashen haired beauty as she took her place beside her father at the podium. Who would’ve thought Hell would be so vast. So many familiar faces. Well, those who had faces anyway.
It certainly looked like she was destined for greatness. He might as well forget about garnering her affections. He was just a means for travel arrangement. Now, if someone would just put him back together, he could get the hell out.
Get the hell out? He chuckled at his own joke.
Hopeful Traveler
The ghost of travelers past flexed his elbows. He wondered how he did that without flesh. The ashen haired beauty stood waiting.
“Well, my dear, thank you for assembling me. A veritable bonesmith you are. I suppose I’ll be on my way.”
“You’re leaving?” she said. “I thought we were an item.”
He would‘ve blushed if he could.
“I have business among the mortals to attend to," she said. "I’ll make it worth your while if you take me.”
He clamped his metacarpals around her wrist and they were off. He knew he was being used. But, so was she.
Frustrated Traveler
The ghost of travelers past rattled his bones in despair. The ashen haired beauty was true to her word and bedded him as soon as they returned to the mortal world. Never before had he missed it, but not having a penis really put a damper on things. What really peeved was when she asked to borrow his shin bone. Talk about humiliating.
Now, she was out wreaking havoc with the mortals and she had the nerve to take his shin bone with her. Just in case, she’d said. He hobbled to the window. Damn, what a woman.
Not 'illegal', John - not sure there's ever been those sort of rules - but I'm assuming you intended to put one prompt per episode in and cannot find 'ballot' in the third one. Thoroughly entertaining, however, so don't delete it (unless you want to remedy that).
DeleteA good trio of stories, John and a rule for me to consider exploring in future weeks. "Frustrated' was IMHO, was the most enjoyable, dry humor and wit with a touch of caring.
Deletethese are sooo good I can't begin to decide which is best, so I won't.
DeleteIt really don't matter one iota whether any rules were broken or whether the prompt words were used. What matters is, this was such an entertaining read and so well-written and when you get right down to it, isn't that what we're really all about here? I can't pick a favourite and refuse to try because each is an integral part of what follows. Though I must admit that the ashen-haired beauty carrying the shin bone away with here brought more than a chuckle.
Delete"carrying the shin bone away with HER..." not "here."
Delete::::sheesh:::::
Uncleanliness too close to godliness [Threshold 256]
ReplyDeleteThey, the holy ladies, living in hope of attaining some distant Paradise, feared we, the half-dozen victims of Torc-man, having, however unwillingly (or not, as a general principle) been defiled by sexual activity, might shatter to smithereens their hard-won purity.
Give them their due; when the poisonings began, the first assumption was it was ballot-linked, a coterie of recently-ordained known to be desirous of over-throwing the more rigid, traditional rituals by drastically reducing the odds.
More worldly than anticipated, these renegades in turn accused us. Laughing, having faced far worse, we barricaded ourselves in. Waited for the day of reckoning.
[Now look what you've started John!]
Those who seek paradise seldom find it. Though it comes close with two Threshold episodes this week. I can't wait for Raven to arrive. He'll shake this place up.
DeleteNice to see the new rule being confirmed. Not sure it will help my writing but it will most definitely help my reading, with more very good stories like this one.
Deletethat's an intriguing instalment for sure...
DeleteA continuation with a double dose in one week. How delightful! And what a magnificent addition to what went before. Waiting anxiously to find out what the "day of reckoning" has in store.
DeleteCasting
ReplyDeleteWhile distant, striking of metal upon metal assaults the ears. It is the Smithy, plying skill with hammer and anvil to ensure the blade sufficiently honed for the upcoming ceremony.
This is a worrisome time with voting tokens not issued until the sun rises on the given day and the forge in throes of preparation. The trek is laborious with leaden legs and heavy hearts. The iron ballot box is foreboding. With trembling hand, we each deposit our chosen marker.
Again, I thank the gods of all creation that my child's name is not on the roster of candidates.
Oh, Patricia, this is a prime example of the diversity of your imagination and the skillfulness of your writing. Love the idea of tokens being forged and the glimpse into this world.
DeleteI'll second Sandra's sentiments but thought it was a blad being forged. Though if it was takens, that ads a very dystopian feel to this excellent story.
DeleteLeaden legs and heavy hearts as well as the iron ballot box shows the way and really sets the scene. I'm imagining the voting is for who is next to lose their head.
Deletechoosing who goes next is always a creepy scenario, it works well here.
DeleteChange of focus [333]
ReplyDeleteFollowing him through Customs, craning at his passport, Pettinger established – surprise, surprise – the man’s name was Smith. As Smith headed for a taxi Pettinger sprinted to the waiting unmarked car, female Drug Squad DC at the wheel impersonating waiting wife.
Pettinger tried to gauge her age. ‘You remember the case?’
A glance. ‘Distantly.’
‘Sorry to drag you out tonight.’
‘No worries. Final ballot for some crap cook-show.’
‘Once we’ve checked where he’s aimed at, d’you fancy a drink?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘If I did I’ve forgotten.’
‘Bloody Scarborough. We’ll need more than a drink!’
Pettinger’s smile anticipatory. ‘Fine by me.’
For a 'Pettinger' story this is rated 'G'. Don't remember Scarborough
DeleteSorry - From Teesside airport, which Pettinger flew into (he is based at Stockton-on-Tees) to Scarborough on the N.Yorks coast, it is an hour and a half's scenic but oft-times tortuous and traffic-cluttered drive.
DeletePettinger is at it again, with yet another woman. I'm sure the G rating won't be for long. I hope not any way. I liked the surprise, surprise at the use of the worn out alias of Smith.
Deletethere are actually John Smith's in this world, poor guys go through life saying it isn't an alias! Tightly written intrigue laden instalment. Nice one.
DeleteOh that Pettinger. What a charming rascal...!!!
DeleteDemocracy App
ReplyDeleteThe practice of attending a polling station to place an X on a ballot paper was a distant memory. These days everyone could vote electronically.
Richardson adjusted his party rosette and rang the doorbell.
“Have you voted yet?” he asked the elderly constituent who answered.
“Not yet.”
Richardson calmly took out his Smith and Wesson revolver and pressed the barrel to the old man’s head.
“Get out your phone. I’ll assist you in deciding who you’re going to vote for.”
Modern democracy was a wonderful thing. So many opportunities to nudge things along in the right direction.
This brings an uncomfortable near-recognition - and as is so often the way, superbly and aptly titled.
DeleteInteresting analogy, do all voters have some type of gun pointed at us? A very enjoyable story, David.
DeleteSmith and Wesson... why didn't I think of that? I loved how he adjusted his party rosette (likely and elephant) before doing the deed. Greta story.
Deletethis is seriously good and has nasty echoes that we might come to that yet... they already send cars to collect the infirm and guarantee their vote...
DeleteThis echoes with more than just a smidgen of possibility and may even already be closer to the truth than we imagine. This is seriously insidious...and totally absorbing.
DeleteA social evening<
ReplyDeleteA show of hands. Nothing so sophisticated as a ballot, partly because even a simple ‘X’ well beyond them when there’s that much John Smith’s been sunk.
Those hands already fumblingly employed as tools of judgement. Assessing relative merits.
The beer similarly responsible for our bovine compliance.
The vote for where they choose to put their tools.
Assuming they'd be capable.
Assuming we didn't cover the distance to the door fast enough
Hands fumblingly employed as tools of judgement, is very much true now. A good solid story, Sandra.
DeleteI suppose beer does make it easier to comply. How many times have we woke up and said, "I did what?" A chilling thought as to why they would need to cover the distance to the door quickly. Entertaining read, Sandra.
Deletethis is a good one, Sandra, lots of background hidden behind a few sentences conjuring some nasty pictures.
DeleteThis was very entertaining and brought to mind...for reasons I don't truly fathom...Leonard Skynyrd's "Gimme Three Steps." Have to be honest, I had to go back in order to ferret out the prompt words, so skillfully were they incorporated.
DeleteTHE LAW IS THE LAW
ReplyDeleteDuring the dim, distant past, an edict mandating that the populace vote whether to execute an accused lawbreaker was enacted. The severity of the offense was never considered, and the method of execution never varied. The accused was blinded with a red-hot poker then stoned to death.
A ballot was printed with the accused’s name and but one box to check. Next to the box was YES.
YES, of course, always prevailed, and for what it’s worth, I consider this ancient law barbaric.
The name on this ballot is JOSUHA SMITH.
A hand dropped on my shoulder. “Let’s go, Smith.”
One wonders how they ever changed the edict. Disturbing, rather too much.
DeleteMaybe when they ran out of Joshua Smith's? Tradition is a hard habit to break. Good story, Jim.
DeleteSeldom, does anything good come after 'The Law is the Law.' I don't blame Smith for being against the barbaric law. My eyes hurt just thinking about it.
Deletetonight's gore - and horrendous it is too!
DeleteOh dear lord, if that isn't a nightmarish situation then I don't know what is! Being stoned is barbaric enough but blinded with a red-hot poker. You are an expert at conjuring disturbing images, Jim.
DeleteThe First Battle: Motivation
ReplyDeleteStelkhar looked at his assembled warriors and could barely see their end in the distance. He adjusted his eyes to superposition from apposition. They look deadly as if recently emerged from the chambers of Merzhar the Smith.
“Warriors, your ballots have chosen those to receive battle honors. They’ve been added to the record. Our foe is like no other. It’s their god against our gods. We’ve experienced the power of theirs, now we show them ours!”
An image of a Drakescarl of myth, holding a planet in it’s claws, wrapped in it’s forked tail, under strange letters:
SEMPER FIDELIS.
I'm excited about our heroes now ready to take their turn at the offensive. May the marines prevail!
DeleteAnd a loud and hearty OOMM-PA! The last two lines really stand out, Jeffrey.
DeleteEnter the Marines....rather like the old Cavalry! Nicely done, Jeffrey. This is moving along very well.
DeleteMy thanks to all three of you for your comments and for following this series. I feel the need to mention that the image at the end is what was shown to the 'grasshopper' army, taken from the armour and tattoo of a dead marine.
DeleteLesson Learned
ReplyDeleteMr. Smith. Most hated teacher in school. Taught Mathematics. Known as sums or arithmetic back in the dim and distant. We called him Smudger. Not to his face, of course. Everyone named Smith was called Smudger then. Don't know why.
He needed no ballot to decide who fell prey to the biting thwack of his cane across tender young knuckles. All equally worthy in his squinty-eyed opinion.
We visit him at the infirmary now. He doesn't know us. Doesn't recall. But we do. And hope every wicked crush of his arthritic fingers serves as a jolt to his defective memory.
Ouch! So cruelly succinct.
DeleteYou reap what you sow. Very good story, Patricia.
DeleteI had a science teacher who drew names from a hat, just the boys, to see who would get a whack from his paddle on Fridays. I wish I'd had the chance to visit him in the infirmary. Just one good whack would have done it for me. Very entertaining, Patricia.
Deletea perfect retribution story, good one!
DeleteEcological Bootie
ReplyDeleteFrom an unworldly land in a distant galaxy, Abigail Smith cast her ballot. She voted NO on the exploratory salvage project, but all indications said it would pass. It wouldn’t be cheap; not by a long shot. But the oceans were running dry and something had to be done, she supposed. She just wished it wasn’t so damned expensive.
The hypertonic atomizers were loaded in the star-tanker fleet. The controls were set.
The poor people of that planet, Abigail thought. It was their misfortune Earth ocean water was compatible to ours. Perhaps they don’t need seawater like we do.
Well-done twist, after a excellent set up - I always admire a scientific approach, me being the only member of a family who lacks one.
DeleteWonderful story, the dreaded bottom line and being measured against survival.
DeletePerhaps the aliens will suck up all the plastics we deposit in our oceans. Yet another interesting plot, John.
Deleteinteresting thoughts here and altogether an intriguing little tale.
DeleteWorthy of a "Twilight Zone" episode or that newer version known as "Black Mirror." Given the Earth's seawater seems likely to be siphoned off, let's hope those damn Triffids don't come back.
DeleteThe Shapeshifter Chronicles: Movie Trailer
ReplyDeleteAlbert Smythe, Director General of the National Crime Agency, had a distant visage while watching the museum’s security video. A statue of Anubis busted open a safe like it was an egg removing a case. He raised his spear, striking the floor like it was a smith’s anvil. That point became a fountainhead of fire engulfing the room, then the building.
“Gregory, a robot or guy in a suit?”
“How long do I have?”
“I’m giving Prime a ring in fifteen.”
“My ballot is neither, it’s walk is too fluid, it’s outfit moves with the body, Anubis is real.”
Anubis returns... should prove entertaining if you decide to continue this emergence. Nice writing and setup. Watch it's vs its.
DeleteNow I question my it's vs its comment. You may be right. I'll have to research that.
DeleteIts is correct. There are some great phrases in this, Jeffrey. For example ...floor like it was a smith's anvil ...fountainhead of fire.
DeleteGood stuff!
I like tales with mythological references and this was no exception. Nicely put together, Jeffrey.
DeleteAgain my thanks for reading, commenting and following. I'll pay more attention to proofing, though I'm flattered that the readers had enjoyment from my story.
DeleteKursaal (Episode One Hundred Sixty Nine) - "Georgie-Boy Endicott a/k/a Big Dipper"
ReplyDeleteGeorgie-Boy Endicott, the Kursaal's tattooed jack-of-all-trades, had many strings to his bow but he took care not to advertise that of finger-smith. He might easily have been one of Fagin's street urchins. In truth, any vote regarding the artful skills of the old rapscallion's tearaways would have resulted in Georgie-Boy placing higher on the ballot than the Dodger himself.
Distance from the potential pocket or purse meant nothing. Valuables apparently transferred as if by magic from swindled to swindler.
Some items acquired by Georgie-Boy in this fashion proved to be very interesting.
Very interesting indeed.
---------------------------------------------------------
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: Georgie-Boy Endicott has featured in previous episodes.
The ability to casually use the name Fagin, is great. As if by magic is a very good line.
DeleteYes, anything pilfered at the Kursaal is likely to be interesting at the least. Love the name Georgie-Boy. You have a way with names.
DeleteActually the real name of one of my Romany cousins. :)
DeleteI'm given to understand that it's politically incorrect to use the term "gypsy" any more...!!!
DeleteHow nicely this flows from beginning to end, Patricia. An easy and interesting read.
Deletethere's so much that's politically incorrect these days... almost makes you not want to talk!
DeleteI'm curious to know what is being pilfered...
Whispers in a Bolgia
ReplyDeleteLoving whispers beckon,
across time and space.
I see both your apparitions,
atop the companionway.
Fresh from memories distant past
It's torture seeing your locket.
Searching for your warmth
in a frozen waste.
Captain Smith is held deeply by Titanic his lover.
Would holding you again stop
the ice pick
from playing on my heart?
One staircase left to climb,
as it always is.
The half frozen beast
never lets me ascend.
The judges cast their ballots
with our cheating hearts.
Well dang, Jeffrey, very nice. I especially liked the first paragraph. There's something about a companionway that warms the heart... well, before the ice pick that is.
DeleteYour poems are always a treat. This was a very nice one...if somewhat melancholy in places.
DeleteThank you both. I find that writing poetry with the prompts is much harder than a story, yet this flowed rather easily when I initially wrote it.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 194 - Hide Nor Hair
ReplyDeletePoppy sat cross-legged upon her suitcase and sprinkled salt from a tiny blue packet over her Smith's Crisps. She conducted an internal ballot whether to board the train or continue to wait for Marmalade. She hadn't seen the rascal in some time now. It was cause for anxiety.
From a distance came cries for Cousin Christopher to: "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
Poppy wondered if Marmalade would respond to a similar summons but seriously doubted it. She opened a tin of Kit-E-Kat and placed it at her feet. If that didn't ferret him out, then likely nothing would!
--------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------
A tin of Kit-E-Kat, nice line, when fishing use the right bait. A good solid story.
Deleteoh instant memories of Smith's crisps and the salt in a twist of paper... thanks for that, and for a lovely instalment. Our cats come when called but then our cats are not Marmalade...
DeleteYes indeed to the Smith's crisps memory! - the whole of that opening sentence a delight.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want to Get Off (52)
ReplyDeleteThe customer who ‘forgot’ he wanted the brass hippo spent time discussing the staff at the polling station who didn’t supervise his ballot paper going in the box. He left with the hippo, though. We’re busy with copper and brass cleaning at the moment, beneath the patina of dirt and grease lies beautiful metal looking as if it’s come straight from the smith. Our windows glitter with bright polished goodies, coal scuttles, fenders and all. The sun is lighting it up for us but these are winter items and that seems distant – for the moment anyway.
What wonderful recollections coal scuttles conjure, along with andirons and all the other items that accompanied the burning of a fire in the grate. It always signified a cozy winter evening to me as a child. Modern conveniences are lovely but I sometimes mourn what we sacrificed in the process. Anyway, as always, a delightful view into the interior of the shop through the window...which I like to picture as bow-fronted.
DeleteThe description of your windows was so well done, I felt that I was briefly there. I'm glad that the gentlemen voted and bought the hippo.
DeleteAs ever, admiring of your skill at so smoothly weaving whatever prompt words into a weekly narrative - some lovely phrases here and so vivid.
DeleteThe Mad Italian 111
ReplyDeleteThe delight of being an observer, one who sees things from the perspective of distant times, means the current situation – two contenders awaiting the final ballot – holds the interest even though one would wish to borrow a smith’s anvil and bang some heads very hard on something very unyielding… it is no more than a war of words and who can say if they are believed, by themselves or the public?
Of greater interest, for me, are the words of the Dalai Lama, who was carefully disparaging about the resident clown across the water. He echoes my thoughts exactly.
On spot if unusual words. I'll add that I didn't vote for him. He's still my President and I wanted him to succeed, because our country would then succeed. Unfortunately, he's failed.
DeleteDon't think I'll stop chuckling all day now..."resident clown across the water" AND he comes complete with perfectly coloured hair for the job. I give thanks to the Dalai Lama and Leonardo for brightening my day!
ReplyDelete