Not yet apparent across the pond I dare
say, but some 52 million Brits will be gearing up for celebration tonight. So it
seems very fitting indeed to declare Antonia’s ‘Mad Italian’ episode 141 the supreme
entry for last week and hope that this week’s words, along with February, draw dozens
of customers to her shop.
Thank you, as ever, for your contributions and comments.
Thank you, as ever, for your contributions and comments.
Words
for next week: custom heal pound
Entries
by midnight (GMT) Thursday 6th February,
words posted Friday 7th
(winners may be a little later because I’ll
be away from home)
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.
Change of focus [362]
ReplyDeleteAleks’ swift demand for ten pounds had echoes of the begging Pettinger realised he must, on occasion, have practised; customary in a city when one’s family failed, for whatever reason, to provide.
Then, familiarity with that city as much as having grounds for suspicion, Pettinger recalled rent boys as fast to ask; eyes as bold as Aleks’, hand extended as insistently. He froze, staring. But surely, surely if that had been the case there’d be damage, loss of innocence, healing needing done?
Sally, at the door, ‘John. We really need to go –‘
Pettinger sighed. Handed money over. ‘Be good.’
Rent boys? I sometimes wonder if I was sheltered or something as I never heard the term until I looked it up. Between you and Patricia, I'm often learning new things (you wordsmiths, you). I'm sure, or at least, I'm hoping this isn't the case with Aleks... but maybe. If so, this tale is taking an even more provocative turn than it has been since I came to this site. Nicely done.
DeleteUm ... sorry to say, John, but you as sheltered innocent doesn't quite ring true, given the nature of your more recent postings. ;-)
DeleteYou mean that one depraved posting? I don't know what came over me on that one.
DeleteYour entry, Antonia, was definitely the blue-ribbon story of the week.
Deletethanks, Sandra! I finally got here to find out who you had chosen for the week, never dreaming it be me! Having fun, so I am. This is too long to even try and condense into 100 words... a large frame was donated to the shop and I had been trying to work out how best to use it. I threw the idea out that I wanted it in the window, spotlighting one item. Shaun leapt on the idea and before I knew what was happening, we were planning a paper covered window with a frame size space cut in it and inside that space... a diorama of a 50s Christmas... Well, that's an abbreviation of a mad hour of throwing ideas around! Shaun accused me of doing what I have done for years, light the blue touch paper and stand back... but ... January has brought him way down, financially and fitness-wise, suddenly he's bursting with ideas and plans and we're both raiding the shop for miniatures and items... I did tentatively ask what we were going to do for Christmas 2021, as this idea has already outshone everything we've done before... but he said we can do this, we've done it before and will do it again. But this... we have plans to find dolls to make the family and to move them around the scene every day through December... stay with me, this is going to be fun!
DeleteRight now my Burmese cat is going through his 'I don't want to settle down' phase, which is infuriating, on the desk, off the desk, demand, demand, so I need to find something to quieten him down. Must be spring coming, he's not been like this for the last 3 months.
I'm one of the 52 million who was and is elated we have broken ties with that bunch over there, now to see where life goes for us, without the anchor chain of the EU. I never thought I'd agree with Trump, on this one I do!
Back with entries and comments soonest.
Such a worthy win, Antonia. Leonardo's words via your excellent channelling every week is an inspiration to us all.
DeleteLove this, Antonia - creativity is a much under-rated contributor to one's mental health, I get cross when it it is totally ignored in all those questionnaires that ask how much exercise I take each week ...
DeleteAntonia, congratulations on your winning entry. Those ruminations are truly a very good and thought provoking series.
Deletewalking even further on the darker depraved side of life, Pettinger needs to watch his step!
Delete"Be good..." I wonder how much hope is held within that request. I agree with Antonia that Pettinger needs to watch his step. But then, isn't that really his way of life in general?
DeleteCongrats, Antonia. Nice to see the Italian recognized for his insights. Always informative and entertaining.
ReplyDeletePondering on etiquette [Threshold 286]
ReplyDeleteThe man I judged from Before – I doubted he’d been Marauder (unless they’d found a way to heal their souls: which thought surprised me: since when had I believed in souls?) – clearly saw me as degenerate. Assumed my filthy state the norm, unaware (or untaught) about the exigencies those of us who left survived.
Left? Or escaped?
Since I guessed myself equally ill-educated I’d no certainty my beliefs had any relation to the truth. I assumed it customary to state one’s name; decided I’d no intention of revealing mine.
Heart pounding anticipation, I held his eyes; waited for his words.
This Before term has me intrigued. Is it possible the story jumps time periods? She recognizes he is from the past? Lots to think about.
DeleteDo you have a preference to which of your two serials you like best? If I had to chose, I think I would pick Threshold. But I know you and Pettinger go way back... so perhaps Change of focus is you darling.
John, I think I prefer Threshold; John Pettinger is a bit too, um, buttoned up for me.
DeleteAs for Threshold's time-scale, yeah it is all over the place. Started out as post- some sort of world-wide upheaval/disaster (which surprised me since I don't do that sort of thing) then the lack of vehicles etc. simplified Life so it looked a bit primitive, which veered into and got mistaken (even by me) for historical. I'm trying to get it back on track, but obviously not succeeding. Not so much a jump in time periods as he is bit of a throw back, perhaps.
All depends on what the prompts throw up, and with two serials going it's impossible (and I do try not to) choose words with a specific direction in mind.
despite meandering from here to there, Threshold explores thoughts and scenes which are entertaining week in and week out. Don't try and rationalise it, it is what it is and it works.
DeleteYou had me holding my breath there for a moment. Would the elusive name be revealed at last? But no. I am left wanting...for the name only though, not for the excellence of the story.
DeleteThe Bray Chronicles
ReplyDeleteThe heat showed up in a candy-apple red custom El Camino. Special Agent Adilah Fatima sauntered from the car and confronted the detective in charge.
“Who would you surmise committed this act?” The delivery boy’s larynx dangled, exposed in the gaping wound.
“Who the hell wants to know?” said the detective.
Fatima’s formidable stare betrayed his 140 pound Moroccan frame.
“It had to be Bartholomew Bray,” the detective said.
“Bray’s dead, they say.”
“They say a lot of things.”
“So they do,” said Fatima. “He had a wife.”
The detective’s eyebrows arched.
“She’s dead,” said Fatima, “They had a son.”
Such strongly-evoked confrontation in the tension of the dialogue.
DeleteTension and innuendo, all wrapped nicely in one package.
Deleteno one giving way here, answers to every supposed question. Nice one.
DeleteAnd I still remain unconvinced of Bray Senior's demise. You just cannot be trusted, John...and what a delight that is!
DeleteWho says winning isn’t everything?
ReplyDeleteThe tortoise sat pitifully in his overheated cell. Being cold blooded, the heat didn’t bother him one iota, but the loneliness did. The jail was very unusual, small wired cages - like a customized dog pound.
The weasel slunk in, walked right through.
“The door wasn’t locked?” the tortoise said.
“Apparently not,” she said. “I’m your attorney. Court appointed.”
The tortoise was mesmerized, enthralled, smitten. “I did it, I killed the hare.”
“La-la-la-la,” the weasel said, holding her petite ears. “Do you want me to defend you or not?”
“Only if you despise the hare.”
“Let’s get started then.”
How true, my enemies enemy an be my friend. Nice twist, now who killed Cock Robin?
Deletenice twist on a couple of old friends -
DeleteThis is turning into something that is equally charming as it is intriguing. How very nicely done.
DeleteOh no. I wrote both stories thinking the prompt word was heat. Now what? I'm already categorized as a rule-breaker. Dang.
ReplyDeleteDelete and re-write. It can be done and no-one will know.
DeleteTime heats - ah, HEALS - all wounds, John.
DeleteDon't worry about it, and even if you do worry about it, don't worry about it.
Wing And A Prayer
ReplyDelete"In for a penny in for a pound" had always been her motto. She did nothing by halves. The provided accessories were customized, but training sessions still required every shred of energy and every ounce of strength.
Luckily, injuries healed quickly. Just as well since she'd fallen heavily several times at each attempt.
But then, they all had.
Even the most adroit angels take many a tumble before mastering the art of flight.
This the perfect example of the soaring of your imagination, Patricia.
DeleteI wonder if angels have hollow bones, like birds and pterodactyls? It would make for less strenuous flying. Quite a reveal Patricia; you're good at those.
DeleteSuch a great lead into a superb conclusion, Patricia.
DeleteA very good and enjoyable story, Patricia. Much like young birds leaving the nest.
Deletenice one!
DeleteGathering magic – 3
ReplyDeleteHer eyes flashed darkly, ‘Not this time,’ she said defiantly and, withholding her customary healing touch, hurled dark enchantment at him.
He staggered backward against the pounding strength of the magical onslaught.
She giggled seeing the look of disbelief and fear in his eyes, as he realised what came next.
With incestuous passion, she kissed him until he sank to his knees.
Smiling dreamily, she skinned him as she had the fairy.
A glittering stream of black-dusted magic flew from his open-jawed skull and she sucked at it greedily.
Blood dripped from her lips.
‘Not expecting that were you father?’
SO good to see you back Terrie, and, from the first words with your usual wonderfully dark and twisted way with words, not one iota diminished.
DeleteWhere do we find episodes 1 and 2?
I had to go and hunt for them Sandra, episode one is in the 16th august 2019 flash fiction section and number two is in the 17th September 2019 one.
DeleteI did not realise I have been away for so long.
Glad to have you back, Terrie, as I missed your wondrous way of weaving beautiful language into engaging tales. This entry is a good example of your talent.
DeleteBack with a bang, Terrie. Loved the incestuous passion line. Very effective. Also loved how the 'skinned him as she had the fairy' brought your previous episodes back into focus. It's hard to forget a skinned fairy. I bet she'll be even more powerful now after sucking in more magic dust.
DeleteI'll need to find those previous chapters. This was nice, vampire or succubus. Glad that you've returned, and with a very enjoyable story.
Deleteyou've been away too long, good to see you back and on form too! Nice piece, this, dark magic indeed.
DeleteYour talent as a most accomplished wordsmith has been sorely missed, Terrie. How wonderful it is to see you return and with such magnificence to boot.
DeleteBring Home For Emma
ReplyDeleteAs he approached customs the shopping list from Canticle for Leibowitz popped inexplicably into his head. Pound pastrami, can kraut, six bagels.
He wished such things were still available. But it had only been twenty years since depopulation. Austerity would span generations.
From the shuttle base on Antarctica ships were setting sail. The first comprehensive report on the progress of flora and fauna. His assignment to monitor the insect population of Madagascar.
Out in the darkness of space displaced nations awaited the verdict. Was the Earth healing in the absence of their destructive presence, or not?
I can think of better places to install a shuttle base; but maybe they don't want the scientists to go outside and miss their shuttles. I wonder if he's had that shopping list in his head for twenty years? Scary concept, David. Your horror often is in the realm of reality.
DeleteI loved the Canticle reference. Insects would be one of the first indicators of recovery. Very well done story, David.
Deletethis is bleak and uncompromising, as it will be when we trash this planet.
DeleteThis is one totally out of the box when it comes to prompt interpretation. It's always so lovely to read a piece that stands out as much for its aura of uniqueness as for the beauty of composition.
DeleteThis another fresh treat from you, David. Totally fresh and intriguing.
DeletePowerful stuff, David! Sadly, this may be the fate of humanity if we don't shape up. Displaced nations vanquished to deep space while Earth heals is a great concept,
ReplyDeleteTHERE’S NO PLEASING SOME PEOPLE
ReplyDeletePhil Smith hurried into the den and approached his wife June, who was reading a J.E. Deegan novel.
“Honey!” he exclaimed, “I have great news!”
Without expression, June said, “Well, do I have to pound it out of you?”
“We’re going to have a baby!”
June laughed derisively. “I’m not pregnant, and were I, it’s customary for the wife to tell her husband.”
“No, no, not you! My mistress Anna, and she wants us to keep it! That should heal the rift between us, right?”
The next day, June showed police officers where she had spread Phil’s mangled body parts.
There's a time and a place for everything and sometimes that answer is never! An excellent story, Jim.
DeletePhil didn't quite handle that right, in my opinion. The little bastard will never know his/her father, but I can't say I blame June.
DeleteIs this J.E. Deegan novel June was reading Dark Covenant by chance?
It is indeed Dark Covenant, John. How did you know?
DeleteI'm fearing for the yet-unborn child's intelligence ... neither woman shows much sense bedding with such a moron.
DeleteI'm Batman, Jim. Or maybe I suspected you were the novelist and did a little internet search. I won't revealt which is correct. Either way, I think I want to read Dark Covenant.
Deletebeautifully done, carrying the story with dialogue until the gory ending. Good stuff.
DeleteI do believe this is one man who had absolutely no concept of the female being deadlier than the male. He really should have known better and so, I have little sympathy for his eventual demise.
DeleteFuneral
ReplyDeleteTwenty-six years ago, as humans measured time, she wed Ryan, shedding tears of happiness. His funeral was tears of healing. She leaned against their son, Malik, his birth was tears of joy. She felt the trembling of his pounding heart he kept hidden. Their neighbors had come, the Duhlack’s, Emmerson’s, and Falkenburg’s. Ryan was buried beneath the large oak tree on the small hill nearby. Each attendee tossed a shovel of dirt. Malik finished filling the grave. In the morning Sally told her son.
“I need to go to my people and mourn as is our custom. I’ll be back.”
Tears of happiness, healing and joy work well to mark the milestones in her life. The line, as humans measure time make me wonder if she is not human.
DeleteSome rather nice little comparisons here. I liked the background feel of tenderness and compassion. Like John, however, I do wonder if Sally is not of the human race.
DeleteThe Cambion Proposal: #10
ReplyDeleteZindar, slipped out of their quarters. It’s been far too long since I’ve used the shadows to travel. It’s calming and almost healing qualities.
“Not tonight, Umbrae. I steal for fun, not need. Tonight, I’ll pound the alleys and seedy taverns for what I seek.”
For several hours he did just that. He saw strange customs, food and dress. Happy, sad, and mean people. This is very much like Tagzig-Olmo.
Zindar came upon a couple. He knew the heat of passion, this wasn’t it. A knife ended their struggle. He helped her up.
“Don’t be stupid or alone at night.”
That's one way to pick up women. I liked how Zindar traveled in shadows, seeking his realm of desires. His desires, it seems, are to be avoided if possible.
DeleteThis Zindar is an odd but interesting fellow. Does he have a good heart, or does he have something sinister in mind for this lass he rescued? Nicely done, Jeffrey!
DeleteThis had something of an otherworldly feel to it. The character descriptions reminded me somewhat of all those oddities found at the Star Wars Cantina.
DeleteThe Bray Chronicles
ReplyDeleteAgent Fatima, custom Armani suited, sat across from Barty Reed, two pounds of Madagascar King crab legs between them.
“Let’s be transparent about one thing,” Fatima said. “You are Bartholomew Bray’s son?”
“So my birth certificate indicates. I never met the man.”
“You know what he did, though?”
“I know he would be intrigued by you”. Barty broke open some crab. “You’re Moroccan, are you not?”
“Your answer does little to heal my mind.” The agent pushed his plate away.
“No appetite?” Barty rose. “I’m quite certain we’ll meet again.” He looked back only once as he exited the restaurant.
Yes indeed, Barty junior is definitely chip off the old block, but I suspect his father is writing his script.
Deleteoh for sure, Sandra, and it won't be pretty when it's done, either!
DeleteUh-oh. That Moroccan reference don't bode good and that's for sure!
DeleteDefinitely sounds as though it's like father, like son. I'm anxious to have you reveal the further adventures of Barty, John.
ReplyDeleteNice continuation, I'll give a nod to a certain agency but who is Fatima a special agent for?
ReplyDeleteGone But Not Forgotten
ReplyDeleteHe knew he'd never remember all the names without some sort of record. Just to think about it gave him a pounding headache. Yet, he wanted to preserve the memories. Seemed the respectful thing to do. In the end, it became a ritual. A custom. Some might say an obsession.
And so, he wouldn't even contemplate the identity of his next victim until after the most recent tattoo had healed.
I hope he employs a trustworthy tattoo artist. I'd be tempted to blab after tattooing yet another known victim's name. Short and succinct, this is, and oh so enjoyable.
Deleteshort piece, long on shivers, though!
DeleteMy thoughts were that he used many different tattoo artists, or even did the work himself...many of them ink their own creations.
DeleteI assumed DIY jobs - after all it's not beauty he seeks is it?
DeleteA name or picture doesn't have to be the tatoo. I've heard of impulse shoppers, but murderers?
DeleteRight up my alley with this one, Patricia. Preserving the "memories" just like a good serial killer should.
ReplyDeleteKursaal (Episode One Hundred Ninety Three) - "Kat Shelton...Consummate Costumier"
ReplyDeleteAmong her other duties, Kat Shelton, from a pavilion near the entrance, rented authentic period apparel for historical theme nights. Kat's outfits, which ran the gamut from Medieval healer to Elizabethan courtier to Edwardian era fashions (and more), were not custom-made but nonetheless amazingly well-fitting.
Not interested in pounds, shillings and pence of the enterprise, Kat's ultimate goal was customer satisfaction. She offered deep discounts if certain ensembles were, in her opinion, an ideal choice.
Sometimes, at termination of the event, neither costume nor renter returned to the pavilion.
Unperturbed, Kat absorbed such discrepancies into her profit and loss margin.
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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: Kat Shelton has featured in previous episodes.
intriguing. How can she lose costumes and still have enough on offer unless more are lurking in the darkness... would be interesting to see her profit and loss acount, too!
DeleteSomething dark is going on here; likely some kind of over-authentic costume that feels compelled to return to its proper time, with the wearer still in it. Am I close?
DeleteAh, methinks you might know the way my mind works just a little too much, John. Or maybe you work security behind the scenes at the Kursaal?
DeleteThanks John for a hint of explanation - I'd not a clue! Lovely episode though ...
DeleteIs there a wax museum near by? This is a darkly grim story, thought with a very soft touch.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (83)
ReplyDeleteIt got good and went quiet again, but the signs are there, something over £20 has sold each day. The problem now is lack of stock, no one’s selling anything worthwhile but wanting fortunes for tat like the glued together chest of drawers on offer… It’s our custom to be polite but it’s difficult… Shaun is slow to heal, the ankle remains bad. We need warm sunshine, not bitter winter sun. If I had one pound for everyone who says ‘cold enough for you?’ we’d be fine… we’re still positive, though – just… the new sale table is helping. Just.
I see a turn-around in the shop's future, provided you can find the items to be sold. Have you ever sold something that you sold in the past? I can see someone tiring of an object and re-selling it, possible ending up in your hands.
DeleteSeems much improvement is on the horizon, Antonia. Nice idea, having a sale table. At the very least, it attracts attention and hopes of possible bargains. Always amazed at how you incorporate the prompt words so cleverly and seamlessly.
DeleteGlad 'pound' worked, sad that 'heal' didn't (perhaps I should've put 'heat'!).
DeleteThe Mad Italian (142)
ReplyDeleteFirst, my thanks for choosing the last instalment as your winner; it is appreciated by us. I am fond of my channel; it was good to see her pleasure. In your world the custom is to denigrate and destroy people through ‘social media’. There is little healing in the many outlets, they seem to want to pound people’s lives into pieces and then stamp on them. The only pleasure gained is by the person writing the comments. At this rate, the vitriol will kill off all goodness and caring and you will be left with a deeply damaged population.
Well, it was certainly nice seeing the Italian giving his channel a little credit. And deservedly so, I might add.
DeleteWe are highly honoured that the Italian even recognizes the presence of ourselves...peasants that we are in his company. What a treat it must be to "converse" with him one-on-one.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 219 - Transportations
ReplyDeleteAlone in his carriage, Clive Bailey mourned the lost opportunity with Poppy. It conjured memories of his singular attempt at a marriage proposal years before when, with pounding heart and according to accepted customs, he'd dropped to one knee and been crushed by a curt refusal. A wound that had never fully healed.
On the platform, the number of boarding passengers had now dwindled considerably but none entered his compartment or acknowledged his presence as they passed by his window.
Indeed, most people looked straight through him as though he didn't even exist. Clive found it all too distressingly familiar.
--------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------
'pounding heart' - oh yes! Now I feel a need to cheer Clive up, but next weeks words have already been scheduled.
DeleteMaybe I can still glean a little joy out of them for my poor forlorn Clive.
DeleteTurned down on a proposal, poor Clive. At least they didn't livestream it.
Deletepoor Clive, one of life's losers. I hope at some point he will find a modicum of happiness...
ReplyDelete