Is how today began. Regrettably,
after a Blake display of cloudscapes, it all went gloomy. Back to the laptop
screen where ‘bright’ added extra sparkle to this week’s entries.
Winner this week is John for
the latest episode of ‘The Bray Chronicles’ detailing Bartholomew’s insatiable
desire for Moroccans. Thank you all for your contributions and comments, which
makes this site what it is.
Words
for next week: intercourse postcard
tobacco
Entries
by midnight (GMT) Thursday 12th December,
words and winners posted Friday 13th*
*But maybe late
because I’ll likely stay up much of the night for the election results
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.
Unscrupulousness
ReplyDeleteHoratio Killdeer drew deeply from the unfiltered Camel. Nothing like tobacco after intercourse.
He cradled the severed vulva in the crook of his arm. Someday, he’d have to try it with an actual woman attached.
He pondered the coded message from his mother on the Niagara Falls postcard in his hand. The police had been poking around lately. He looked at the bloodied vulva with a heavy sigh. He was going to miss the woman.
Obums, I should've foreseen the obvious conjunction :(. But never, never, never did I imagine the rest of this. You've surpassed yourself this week John.
DeleteGood story but I'm obviously missing a lot as I'm joining in the middle. Oh and congrats on last week's win.
DeleteYet another totally disarming story from your talented pen, John. Where do you come up with these ideas and have you tried to get them bottled and sold on the market?
DeleteYou have a sick mind, John, and I mean that in the most complimentary way. You are a writer after my own heart! This is great stuff.
DeleteTruly horrifying. I'm going to try to avoid visualizing most of this, but I have a very clear and striking image in my head of Horatio holding the postcard.
Deletelet's start with congrats on being No 1 last week, John, and more congrats on one of the most horrific pieces I think you've ever done!
ReplyDeleteGreat choice for last week's top spot, John. What a wonderful serialization this is turning out to be!
ReplyDeleteCongrats John!
DeleteFifty Shades of The Lecherous Mr. Fogg (A Steamy Punk Tale)
ReplyDeleteIn the aftermath of the invasion society became incredibly promiscuous.
Take the lecherous Phileas Fogg. Set off in a Martian war machine to fornicate his way around the globe in eighty lays. Bawdy postcards, gleaned through the tobacco smoke of the Reform Club, depicting fevered intercourse in exotic far off lands. Guest of honour at Captain Nemo’s epic submarine orgy 20,000 leagues beneath the waves.
His notoriety waned, however, when the Time Traveler returned from the future to publish his scandalous pamphlet, ‘The Phallic Shape of Things to Cum’
Dave, such tongue in cheek humor. Fantastically done.
DeleteThe title and the opening line really set this off with a bang. Entertaining and clever throughout.
Deleteyes, very clever, satirising just about everything written at that time!
DeleteOpen-mouthed in admiration, clever, clever puns and supreme entertainment
DeleteHow utterly clever this was, David. So many neat references and thoroughly entertaining. I for one, would pay to see a film bearing that wondrous title.
DeleteYou have surpassed yourself with this entry, David... so nastily engaging!Very well done!
DeleteClever and entertaining. I loved the bawdy postcards and his adventures with Captain Nemo. :)
Delete[Threshold 281]
ReplyDeleteAs the landscape turned tobacco-coloured; never-ending low hills a well-worn candlewick counterpane, spread on a bed which hadn’t seen intercourse in decades, I realised I’d no idea where we were. Less still of where we were heading. As the sun declined, colours faded and it felt like we journeyed back in time through a sepia postcard landscape.
I questioned Raven as to how much further. ‘I’m not complaining but …’
‘You’ve had enough straddling a horse?’
‘And breakfast was a long time ago –’
‘– Lunch non-existent –’
‘– So?’
‘I’ve not a clue. No shelter, no food. We’re lost.’
Leave it to Raven to not admit he's lost until it's no longer avoidable. I'm very fond of your tobacco landscape.
DeleteLost? Nah...I find that hard to believe. I don't think Raven is ever truly lost. In this case, however, that incredibly well-painted landscape may well have clouded his vision for the moment. Such magnificent descriptions.
DeleteI love your description of the landscape. Very striking and it reminded me of an actual painting, especially with the reference to a sepia postcard.
DeleteVivid descriptions and I thought the line "I'm not complaining but..." was very good.
ReplyDeletesepia postcard, very clever, and another good instalment, and - where do the protagonists go now, being without shelter, food or direction?
DeleteChange of focus [355]
ReplyDelete“Much better-behaved than me.” Sally recommending her sister as suitable part-time carer for Aleks whose existence was due to the bad behaviour of his mother, instigating intercourse merely hours before wedding another. A sudden memory: Valdeta, fingers post-sex clumsy, trying and failing to roll a cigarette, tobacco flying in the summer breeze. Later, much later, a smuggled postcard; his son’s name and date of birth. Then nothing more for years.
And now dead. Pettinger heard her voice again; her inflection of ‘Yanno’ unlike any other’s. He’d come to despise the laxness of her morals … but in some circumstances …
Yes, improper morals sometimes makes lasting memories. Just think if we walked around be moral all the time. I'm looking forward to meeting the sister.
Deletethis is an intense instalment, and asks a lot of questions of the heroes too.
DeletePettinger accusing another of improper morals is an amusing line. There is a lot of meaning hidden between the lines here and very wonderfully , presented, Sandra.
DeleteI adore these intriguing little insights into Pettinger's past. What a colourful character he is.
DeleteI loved all the little snapshots from Pettinger's memory, especially the 'tobacco flying in the summer breeze." Something sad about that, which is fitting considering Valdeta's absence.
DeleteThe Bray Chronicles, Chapter 1
ReplyDeleteShe looked into his sad tobacco eyes and sighed. Perhaps he would remain silent if she let him go. She walked to the window. The place looked like a goddamn postcard. Perfectly coifed women walked as suited men opened doors and bowed. The epitome of utopian social intercourse.
The boy cleared his throat. “Is there anything you’d like me to do before you kill me?”
The Moroccan woman pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just get the fuck out.”
Bartholomew Bray left her shuddering body in the room and walked away, wiping the blood on his pant legs.
oh my, that Moroccan influence grows stronger and the storyline grimmer...
DeleteNastiness escalates week by week ... but I'm not looking away just yet.
DeleteThe boy is Bartholomew? Oh well, still good writing despite my confusion. Great descriptions of the location. Loved utopian social intercourse.
DeleteBartholomew, me thinks, killed the boy, who evidently is not dismayed by his impending demise. That Moroccan woman is one mean bitch!
DeleteWhat a calm and collected manner this boy displays in deliverance of his question of doom. Bartholomew is beginning to remind me a little of Stephen King's "Walkin' Dude." What a fascinating serialization this is turning out to be.
DeleteI really enjoyed the descriptions in the first paragraph. Quite the contrast to that final line.
Deletea rare occurrence for me these days - a stand alone! I'll be back later with comments and tomorrow or Wednesday with the usual serials. Meantime...
ReplyDeleteSending a postcard home...
Send me a postcard, you said, so here it is., if it survives the postal system. Old fashioned you, wanting written words rather than online social intercourse. I picture you with tobacco, rolling those thin cigarettes that constantly went out, another throwback to earlier times. Now everyone vapes, don’t they? I’d be sad to think you went down that road to perdition.
Actually… you’re more likely to go the opposite way to me, you’re a better person.
So here you are, my friend, your postcard, as requested. Mind the blackened singed edges, won’t you?
Oh, this is novel-sized, and how much I need to read the rest of it, the back story (thought maybe not) Why singed? Why send? Why? ...
DeleteNothing like a hand rolled cigarette that goes out all the time. What must the friend have thought about the blackened singed edges. Nice stand-alone, Antonia, more please...
DeleteA line in a song came to mind when I read this. "Letters I've written, not meaning to send." I enjoyed the movie reference. Also, nice to know that our postal system isn't the only one with delivery issues. Very good stand-alone, Antonia.
DeleteYour stand-alones are always a delight. And I see we have another bite-sized treat waiting below. It's been a while but you have obviously lost none of your expertise in this area.
DeleteExcellent standalone. I love the voice in this and the added detail of the 'blackened singed edges.'
DeleteThe Cambion Proposal #2
ReplyDeleteSmoke tendrils, like that from tabacum pipes, gathered inside the pentagram. Taking shape as a nondescript male human.
“Whom am I having intercourse with?”
“Lathark, I’m Princess Melthane of Xanthos.”
“What service do you wish?”
“Make me beautiful. Not illusionary or temporary. Permanent beauty.”
“Beauty is always in the beholder’s eye. That includes your own.”
“Gold and power draw many to my bed. Not what my reflection looks like.”
“I’ll need something more than a postcard from your bedroom and these trinkets.”
“My soul?”
“Soul? What would I do with a soul? No, I want your firstborn child.”
Powerful stuff here, Jeffrey. Very creative and well presented.
DeleteI like this Lathark. He's direct and not without his entertainment qualities.
Deletesaying it like it is...
DeleteAs always, your forte is in the delivery of dialogue. Very nicely done.
DeleteI loved the imagery of the demon (presumably) taking shape from smoke tendrils.
DeleteTHE JOURNEY
ReplyDeleteI didn’t plan this journey, but it’s one I have to make. It’s a short one, so I’m traveling slowly to prolong it. This route, though not Tobacco Road, offers no postcard-pretty scenery, but it reminds me of my past. Then, I had options, and I seldom chose the right one. My ruthless intercourse with my adversaries come to mind, and they’re exacting a heavy penalty now. But, such is life… few of us walk a totally straight and narrow path, right?
Well, trip’s ended.
I stare at the man with the needle as the warden asks, “Any last words?”
How well you've evoked heavy-footed doom here, and beautifully-written.
DeleteApparently, some of the options chosen must have been fatal to someone. The journey, though bleak at first, really jumped out and grabbed me after reading the last lines.
DeleteJD, a very well done story. Worthy of consideration for the top spot.
Deletestark and cold, in every way - with a crushing last line.
DeleteThis came with a powerful punch and equally powerful delivery. The final line can be counted among the best ever revealed in this forum.
DeleteExcellent phrasing throughout with 'My ruthless intercourse with my adversaries' and that powerful final line.
DeleteI could not resist another attempt -
ReplyDeleteDear Mum,
I’m writing this postcard while riding a camel, so it might be a bit rocky. We’re on our way to see someone who’s given birth without having intercourse, interesting, yes? The landscape’s not much to write home about and that box of myrrh’s digging into my side, wish I’d not bought it with me now. Not getting much sleep, a huge star’s lighting everything up and then there’s the singing but needs must and all that… Tell Dad I’ll pick up some duty free tobacco on the way back. See you in the New Year. Your loving son…
And I'm very glad you didn't - this is so lovely.
DeleteTis the season. The immaculate conception theme reminds me that Mary might have fibbed a bit, but who knows. Nicely entertaining bit.
DeleteI found this a wonderfully humorous story and belongs in consideration as well.
DeleteThis is such a wonderful entry, Antonia! I'm reading it over and over!
DeleteThis is incredible in how it manages to take an older tale and yet bring it into a modernized scenario while losing none of the substance. I absolutely adore the idea of picking up "some duty free tobacco on the way back." You have burst back onto the stand-alone scene with fireworks, Antonia.
DeleteClever and entertaining. It felt modern but also old. I enjoyed the imagery this conjured of the man swaying on the back of a camel while attempting to write.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 214 - Undeliverable
ReplyDeleteBefore boarding, George opened his kitbag. It smelled of tobacco and unwashed socks.
"This is a postcard of Eros," said Miss Constance. It was tucked between the ammunition pouch and canteen.
"Got it from a souvenir stall at the intercourse of Piccadilly and Haymarket last time I was in London," said George.
"You mean intersection," corrected Constance. "Intercourse is..."
George grinned. He enjoyed making his sister uncomfortable. Constance changed the subject.
"Why didn't you send it?"
"Couldn't find a pillar box. Never had a stamp anyway."
"Too late now," said Constance. "The Postman never picks up here. He only delivers."
--------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------
Lovely. Lovely indeed. Perfection really. (I was wondering if anyone would do a 'correction' - this is very neatly wrought!)
DeleteI think George is going to wish he'd stayed in London. At least now he'll have time to clean out his kit bag. Nicely mysterious piece, Patricia.
Deleteoh my, tobacco and unwashed socks together - pure horror, so it is. I agree with John, nicely mysterious about sums this up.
Delete"He only delivers"... now there's a group of words that gets one thinking. Very nice, Patricia!
DeleteA postcard tucked of the God of Love between a canteen and some ammunition. Lovely and strong last line.
DeleteHah! I loved the exchange between George and Constance. :)
DeleteKursaal (Episode One Hundred Eighty Seven) -
ReplyDelete"The Amorous Affairs Of Arbuthnot Jester/Part Fourteen"
Arbuthnot Jester arrived at the Kursaal to find his quarters ransacked. Gone, his assortment of Prince Albert tobacco tins but more important, his vast collection of saucy seaside postcards that suggested sexual intercourse (prominently comical in nature) was also missing.
Primrose Lee, elixirologist extraordinaire (once inamorata of the diminutive Arby and founder of the now defunct Scorned Sisterhood), arrived in opportune fashion to offer sympathies and an invitation to supper which, ever being the gentleman, Arby graciously accepted.
Primrose was ecstatic in anticipated resurrection of former romantic evenings.
She first made sure, however, that certain items were safely secreted away.
--------------------------------------------------------
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: Arbuthnot Jester and Primrose Lee have both featured in previous episodes.
Leave it to Arby to collect sex cards. I'm sure he's glad the Scorned Sisterhood is now defunct. You never fail to entertain, Patricia.
Deleteour local history building houses a collection of those saucy postcards...
DeletePrimrose has a good deal more going on in her head than she's revealing in these instalments...
Patricia, another well written tale. A lothario and a coquette make for an interesting couple.
DeleteI commented on/complimented Primrose's skills earlier this week - must've forgotten to press 'publish'
DeleteOoooh, clever Primrose! I love the idea of 'saucy seaside postcards.' :)
DeleteAt the Dark Lady's Gate
ReplyDeleteTheir intercourse was brief, the figures’ flashing hands and veiled faces making it impossible for Rhian to understand. Had they decided to help her? Or were they still exchanging pleasantries or discussing the weather? Hands lowering, her guide abruptly spun, tobacco-colored skirts swirling around her thighs, and strode towards her.
“Have they seen him?” Rhian asked.
Tae shook her head and handed back the worn postcard with Tomas’ picture carefully glued to the front. “No, but they’ll allow us to enter the Dark Lady’s Gate.”
Rhian swallowed. She’d hoped Tomas was here, not lost somewhere below.
“Do we continue?”
So visual, your writing, and this an especially quiet-but-vivid example.
DeleteYes, we should continue...
DeleteThe veiled faced figures that talk too fast with their hands are very compelling.
Can't wait to hear more about the Dark Lady's Gate.
oh definitely, I want to know more - much more - about these people and this gate.
DeleteVisual, as Sandra noted, but also mythical in nature. I believe I've probably said that before. "Do we continue?" indeed. Now that's a question that warrants no answer!
DeleteHolly, lovely names in this story with very good descriptions that had the scene vividly in my mind. A third story, IMHO that should be in consideration.
DeleteVivid indeed and so smooth. How neatly your words and phrases flow into each other. I always look forward to your entries, Holly.
DeleteThank you everyone! :)
DeleteStop The Week; I Want to Get Off (75)
ReplyDeleteThe good news this week could be written on a postcard with room to spare for stamp, frank mark and address… it’s been deadly slow on sales while social intercourse, aka gossip, flourishes. Shaun’s got that bit to a fine art, outside with a pouch of tobacco and a smile for everyone, as he knows virtually everyone. Two people today have said they want to sell some bits, maybe that’s where my nice stock is coming from. Meantime I live with the metal/lead/woodworking tools all over the table. Dust, rust and all. Everything changes, though…
Just spotted this the 75th week of your activities! Yet every week it feels so fresh, and is invariably enjoyable. Looking forward to the next 75 and then onwards ...
DeleteThe shop, through your descriptions and observations, truly comes alive every week. I look forward to what transpires between now and Christmas. With luck, it will be a most lucrative season.
DeleteI enjoyed the line "Dust, rust, and all." Your slices of life are always enjoyable and have a knack of bring the reader to the store. Thank you.
DeleteI marvel at how you manage to include the prompt words so nicely every week. I would think that would be difficult with non-fiction.
Delete'Dust, rust and all' is my favorite line from this as well. :)
DeleteThe Mad Italian (134)
ReplyDeleteTomorrow the population goes to the polls, or does it? They might, no one has mentioned increasing the tax on tobacco (a reduction would ensure their presence at the polling station) whilst the vibrations which will be set up by this mass intercourse of people, paper, crosses and hopes that the party the cross is for will be triumphant. The results for independent MPs will not fill a postcard, fact of life, unknowns rarely attract votes at times of great stress and disunity and this time has greater conflict than many before it. Not long to go now.
As always, I cannot claim to fully understand the impact of what is taking place in the Mother Country...although I probably should take more interest, still being a British Citizen and all. However, politics was always way beyond my comprehension. I look to Leonardo to keep me up to snuff on what happens next.
DeleteYou have another Brexit issue and we have an impeachment issue. Nothing more dangerous that an unwitting fool.
DeleteToo bad the Italian is not eligible to vote. He'd make quite a stir at the polls, I'm sure. Should prove interesting to read of the results.
DeleteOne of his comments is very pertinent to the island, we have SIX independent candidates standing for this election, he knows well none will overcome the sitting MP, an old Island family and a solid Tory... If we have anything but a Tory MP, we all walk around nervous and looking over our shoulder until the chance to unseat the invader comes and we go back to 'normal' -
DeleteI don't want to worry you too much but my friend/publisher, who also happens to be a medium, is being poked and prodded by Nostradamus. I know the Italian spends time there and my poor friend says that means there are two pointy bearded people in the room... Nostradamus is getting edgy because he can't always tell them apart. The worry is what Nostradamus has come to tell us more than anything...
Southern Comfort
ReplyDeleteLife on daddy's tobacco plantation is glorious. Picture perfect postcard of a lavish Virginia mansion. Every whim is catered. Every fantasy fulfilled. Every desire gratified.
Each conversation is a prattling intercourse about Paris fashions, cotillions and debutante balls. Delightful, yes. But hollow and meaningless. Enduring passion is what stirs my soul.
And if my secret infatuation...my overwhelming obsession...is not the typical tall, dark and handsome specimen of a Southern gentleman that everyone supposes him to be, they best be advised to mind their business.
This another epic novel waiting to be written.
DeletePeer pressure is understandable but in the end, nothing more than a glorified and misunderstood hobby. Passion, on the other hand, is an emotional storm waiting to be unleashed. Good story, Patricia.
DeleteYou do Southern Belle well, Patricia. I think I know where her passions are focused... intriguing stuff and well honed.
Deleteoh my, such sugar coating on someone so very sharp, knife sharp, underneath!
ReplyDeleteTrust in me
ReplyDeleteOur language being at such variance, our words incomprehensible – the smooth, fluid lilt of yours; the rock-hewn angles and splinters of mine – we have to rely on smiling eyes and shape of mouth to assure each other of the good intent of our necessarily clandestine intercourse.
Necessary, because even though good intent a rare commodity in a market place whose picture-postcard promise of colourful exotic, as depicted in the brochure, is much tarnished, I need your innocence, to believe the packages you’re buying contain tobacco with the magic properties I promised, and not sweepings from the backyard of dried dung.
Quite a lot of ado for a secret roll in the hay... Beautiful language skills you have, Sandra.
DeleteMethinks we have stumbled upon a charlatan here, but one with charm...and that is the most dangerous kind. You are definitely on a roll this week, Sandra.
ReplyDeleteIs the difference between a charlatan and a true purveyor of honest goods, faith? Then again, it could be previous experience. Very good story, Sandra.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful use of language drew me willingly to a climax I didn't see coming. Very nice, Sandra!
ReplyDeletethe longing for it to be right and the fears that it won't be combine in the thoughts beautifully.
ReplyDelete