Five books read this week, ranging from a really
dire one star to a magnificent five star (Sarah Moss’s ‘Ghost’). The benefit of
the dire was it made me reappraise the way I’ve attempted to show the vulnerabilities
of my MC, and I am reminded to thank you for your indulgence in allowing me to
post my random Snap pieces, as well as for contributing and commenting
yourselves. It’s not so much that we need praise as to know we’ve been read.
And it is in the hope of
reading more (and I’m confident I’m not alone) that Patricia gets a
special mention for her ‘Pledge’ and, although not the only one, for reading pleasure
received, Terrie takes top spot for ’Secret Armadillo diaries entry 120’.
Words
for next week: echo grind Merlot
Entries
by midnight Thursday 3rd September, words and winners posted Friday 4th
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.
Thanks for giving me top spot Sandra, as always I think there were so many excellent entries to choose from. Like you, I am also hoping there will be more of Patricia's Pledge.
ReplyDeleteWay to go Terrie and Patricia. The continuation of a great series and the beginning of something new, maybe.
DeleteNever a surprise to see you rise like cream to the top, Terrie. Many congratulations to you and your delightful bevy of 'dillos. I thank everyone for their encouragement about turning "Pledge" into a regular tale, but I don't think I could handle more than two ongoing stories at the same time. Maybe if I ever manage to bring either "Cripplegate" or "Kursaal" to a satisfactory conclusion.....
Deletecongrats Patricia and Terrie! Brilliant writing as always.
DeleteGrapes of Wrath
ReplyDeleteThe Bordeaux region, quite snooty about their Merlot grapes, crowed as Napa Valley echoed similar pretentious grinds. Before long, many forgot what they were supposed to be boycotting. One French restaurateur was hanged on the shores of the Garrone for accidentally serving a bottle of California blend.
The problem was unceremoniously solved, at least partially, when Cletus Barton crashed his beer truck at a wine festival in San Francisco. Cases of Budweiser were passed around to commemorate the slain wine bottles.
One by one, beer by beer, wine snobs converted, especially the next morning when they woke hangover free.
Careful, John, this might be your most controversial post yet ...
Deletedefinitely controversial but what visions!
DeleteTalk about conversion. This was priceless. Where do you come up with such novel ideas, John?
DeleteTaking control [Threshold 314]
ReplyDeleteI closed my eyes, hoping for some sort of visual echo to picture which colour wires Marauder Man touched together to begin the grind of whatever bits it was that made the noise.
Second time lucky.
To Raven, trying not to look impressed, I said, ‘Get in’ because I knew the stick in the middle had helpful words like ‘Drive’, whereafter it was just a matter of turning the wheel; to point it where –‘
Abruptly, ‘Where are we going?’
‘Not yet! I need to –‘
‘Need to nothing!’ Jaw clenched, wheel gripped, I sped westward to the Merlot-sunset sky
When in doubt, head west. This was very entertaining, Sandra. Who would have known she could hotwire a car?
DeleteIt looks like they are off, toward their next adventure.
DeleteI can't get enough of this episode. My favorite Threshold to date.
DeleteThis was so good Sandra. I like that our heroine seems to be in charge of the usually authoritative Raven for once ... wonder how long that will last
Deletesomething wrong with Raven,taking second place? I see devious and dangerous times ahead.
DeleteWay to go, girl. About time you took over total charge of the situation. I do wonder what Raven's reaction is going to be to this turn of events.
DeleteChange of focus [392]
ReplyDeleteIt took Pettinger a moment to spot, within the dim interior, the source of the tank-like grinding rumble. Took longer still, noise echoing, distorted around the empty warehouse, to understand it came from a phalanx of wooden barrels, trundling with increasing speed, in their direction.
Beside him, DC Henry Moth sniffed loudly. ‘Wine.’ Added, with satisfaction and a nod towards the word painted on the wall, ‘Merlot.’
Then a dozen spotlights blinded them. Silhouetted men directed cameras toward them. Instructions megaphone-boomed, and with horror Pettinger and his team understood they were to be the subjects of an epic, widescreen snuff.
Well, Sandra, aren't you the creative one this week. I would pay to see this film, but I don't think the snuff part is going to happen as planned.
DeleteNot what I was expecting to happen, but great edge of the seat action so I am waiting with baited breath to see what happens next. The prompt words simply melted away into the text I was so eager to find out what was happening.
Deleteclever writing bringing to life another Pettinger scene...
DeletePettinger can often find himself in more hot water than the monkeys at Jigokudani Park. But he'll come through unscathed...of that I have no doubt!
DeleteBon Appétit
ReplyDeleteMy glass of Merlot is chilled and my gourmet hamburger, topped with grilled portobello mushrooms, caramelized onions and aged cheddar cheese, is a thing of epicurean delight on the plate.
It is bliss to enjoy a meal without the shrewish echoing demand of a "to-do-list" ringing in my ears...her endless laundry list of tasks I should perform prior to supper.
Cleaning the abbatoir's industrial meat grinder is not on the docket.
But I'll get to it later.
That title resonates somewhat gruesomely, having finished this - as smooth a set-up for a gag reflex as ever.
DeleteThis makes one wonder what ground flesh of this variety would taste like. How bad could it be? Hopefully, he didn't opt for medium rare.
DeleteI just love those little throw-away remarks you seem to tack effortlessly onto the end of your offerings Patricia. They change a readers whole view of the scene, change the atmosphere and meaning of everything gone before. Brilliant.
Deleteit is a skill, this writing small pieces and capping them with pure horror last limes. I love this one!
DeleteA Taste of Larvaemite – Episode One
ReplyDeleteThe hulk of The Merlot had spun silently in space for a century. She’d been one of those merchant wineries which served the interplanetary settlements. Her own vineyard, presses and vats.
The scavengers passed along corridors overgrown with creeping vines, hung with fat mutated grapes, dulling the echo of their footfall. Thousands of moths danced in the stale air. Fat grubs crawled on the vine leaves.
High in nutrients and narcotic content suggested the digital analytics of one of these squirming blue creatures. “Grind them to a paste and we may have a money spinner,” suggested Chigwell.
A good example of how a prompt word, in this case Merlot, can evoke such creativity. I love how the grape grubs are being considered for their nutritional and narcotic properties.
DeleteYour rich and heady, imagery creates a wonderful setting for an exotic and futuristic offering. I could see smell and hear it all. A really innovative world you have created.
DeleteAs Terrie says, innovative and futuristic, but already stomach-churning and I suspect it won't get any less so. Brilliant but foreboding title.
Deleteanother David walk into a nightmare scenario. I hate grubs at the best of times...
DeleteThis ventures into the world of science fiction. A genre in which I have absolutely no skill whatsoever and so, greatly appreciate those who do. This sounds like it could turn into a classic.
DeleteL'Orgue De Barbarie
ReplyDeleteThe chameleonic organ grinder boasted many guises: precocious boy, not yet old enough to sport whiskers, who danced a jig to the echoes of his mechanical-driven music; handsome young man with twinkling eyes and charming smile; and wizened greybeard, toothless and crotchety. Each incarnation was accompanied by a capuchin monkey, splendid in bolero of merlot-hued velvet, tiny fez on tiny head, who carried a tin cup to collect coins of appreciation.
Townspeople were known to disappear following departure of the barrel organist but awareness was fleeting. By the time he returned (and he always did), the vanishings had been forgotten.
Dang, Patricia. You drew on every ounce of your considerable skills for this one. A evil, chameleon-like organ grinder... brilliant. And the monkey with his tiny fez and velvet attire... charming.
Delete"chameleonic" an instant hook, and the scene immediately evoked, accompanied by tinny music and the rattle of coins. So colourful and vivid.
Deletecapuchin monkey and all, another delightfully horrific offering.
DeleteThe Lonely Man
ReplyDeleteI peered into my glass, the Merlot swirling with strong legs. I poured again and toasted myself as the melodic ping from our crystal goblets echoed through the larger house. I called out but no one answered. Even the pictures on the wall avoided eye contact. I considered the escort service once again, but that grind was getting old. Besides, my previous escort lay dead on the floor. As if on cue, there was a loud knock at the door.
That didn’t take long.
Shouts from outside, a crash of splintered wood. Finally, someone was paying attention.
"that grind was getting old" - another example of the innovative use to which the prompt words are being put - marvellous.
Deletewhoo, nasti3es galore here.
DeleteProbably favourite phrase of the week..."Even the pictures on the wall avoided eye contact." I'm going to have to borrow that at some point.
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 121
ReplyDeleteDawn-light flickered and gently kissed the darkle as the lone song of a hidden merlot echoed among the leafy undergrowth.
Nigel straightened his tool-belt, ‘Callow d’yu think you kin guide Armi, Trub, Mossy n’ Tosca t’ where they are? Rest of us’ll be along behind wiv Dolas as fast as we kin move the damn contraption.’
Callow nodded.
Nigel looked at Armi, ‘Yer gonna need t’get them slackers up and ready t’ move by the time we catch up mate.’
Armi’s paws twitched, eagerly, ‘Don’t worry we kin grind a few snouts in the dirt if they don’t wanna listen.’
Magical dawn-light opening to this scene, like a curtain rising on the second act, revealing a cast of anticipated characters, who immediately spring to life and speak their lines.
Deletethe dillos are as entertaining as ever, while they go about their dire and dangerous business. I keep looking out for them on the island, you never know when one will escape and hitch a ride on a ferry...
DeleteThis was such a magnificent blend of description and dialogue. Had to go look up "darkle." Love it when a word appears that I don't know.
DeleteI enjoyed Armi and his twitchy paws. Sounds like the gang is in for some intense action soon.
DeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Thirteen) - "The Amorous Affairs Of Arbuthnot Jester/Part Fifteen"
ReplyDeleteArbuthnot Jester was in love. Again! Latest infatuation? Paulette Merlot, Travelling Circus burlesque performer named after the wine of her birthplace. Three inches shorter than the diminutive Arby, Paulette was a miniature Venus.
Heart, senses and other body parts pulsing, Arby watched Paulette perfect "bumps and grinds" to the echo of a sultry "Blues in the Night." She appeared not to mind, often putting on an extra show for Arby's pleasure. However, Paulette's sexual orientation lay not with Arby.
She canoodled every evening with Quinn Underwood, "Lost and Found" Manageress.
This titillating fact dampened Arby's ardour not one whit.
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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: Arbuthnot Jester and Quinn Underwood have featured in previous episodes.
Another wonderful arrival to the Kursaal; Arbuthnot inevitably doomed to eventual disappointment, but so colourfully.
DeleteI feel sorry for Arbuthnot but someone has to be the lonely one to set up a tale... some lovely phrases in this episode.
DeleteEvery evening? That's a lot of canoodling. Poor Arby just doesn't have the proper equipment.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 243 - The Sounds Of Silence
ReplyDeleteThe train lurched momentarily before grinding to a metal-on-metal halt. The jolt awoke Poppy from such an exquisite dream...seated at a Parisian sidewalk café, being served blackberry plum merlot and gougères by a handsome young garçon named Raphael.
She looked out onto the platform. At the Arches, Hamnet, stranded delivery boy from Elsie's Dairy, was frozen in time attempting to breach the exit turnstile, while the Conductor, whistle poised at pursed lips, stood motionless, apparently ready to signal departure.
Otherwise, the Junction echoed with silence, emptiness and inactivity.
Even the Station Master was conspicuous by his absence.
--------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------
there's an 'end of' feeling to this, that 'frozen in time' putting the image of tiny toy figures abandoned at the end of play into my head. Not sure whether it's intentional or what ...
Deletedefinitely agree with Sandra about the feeling of this episode, all these marooned strange people just - there. Beautifully described.
DeleteWhen the train came to a halt, I thought, whoa, was it moving? But then We find out Poppy may have dreamed it. So clever how you keep this up week after week.
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship no 20
ReplyDeleteAs usual, a mixed week – John Constable visited one of my subscribers before coming to me with his message. Echoes of JMW Turner, friendly and good to talk to. I doubt he found his work a grind; he put so much into each painting, capturing the colour of Merlot in some of the images. Another subscriber wrote to say Jimmie Saville had visited and kept her awake all night complaining. He has visited me. I doubt his honesty in wanting to be forgiven. There is a strong feeling of vanity with him still. He has a way to go yet.
Ack...Jimmie Saville. Sounds more like a nightmare visit to me. What a total sham that man was! I have to agree, any repentance from him certainly has a long way to go. As always, a most intriguing installment, Antonia.
DeleteYour usual, mixed weeks are a lot different than mine. Can you just say no if the timing is poor or you re just not in the mood?
Deleterunning late this evening, discussing a very large edit job and other things. Two more postings tomorrow and comments!
ReplyDeleteNeither Soave not suave
ReplyDeleteShiraz or Merlot, it didn’t matter much to me since the bottle that held either, when ground sufficiently fine, passed as “hinted notes of gooseberry” and enough of it, added to what I poured into your insisted-upon “long-stemmed glass, darling, always”, would silence the echo of your scornful ‘Red?, darling? With fish?’ each and every time I told you I preferred it.
I like this. Good job too, for some reason Blogger got into a closed circle and sent it to me (and anyone else?) 5-6 times today!
DeleteThis week is so chock-a-block with colourful phrases...and here is yet another one: 'Red?, darling? With fish?' Total magic.
DeleteSorry for the repetition, Antonia - I kept editing it, having posted in haste, then realising it still needed more clarification. Didn't realise you got an individual alert.
DeleteSome just like red. Your Italic use was flawless. Very effective and a very enjoyable read.
DeleteStop The Week; I want To Get Off (113)
ReplyDeleteEchoes of weeks during lockdown at the start of this week, no customers, no browsers. Just the usual grind of staring out the window and wondering what else to do to draw them in. Free bottles of Merlot? Chance would be a fine thing… still not much coming in to re-sell, difficult sellers asking the earth for inferior goods (coffee table with hardboard backing… ) while we ignore the problems and work on the future, the workshop, the epoxy resin, the ideas… always the ideas! Then the printer breaks down, after many years of service… help!
Things must surely take a turn for the better soon. Hang in there, Antonia. The best is yet to come....hopefully.
DeleteEverywhere seems to be topsy turvy at the moment - either packed to bursting or empty. Hope things get busy soon.
DeletePrinters have a way of breaking at the most inopportune times.
DeleteThe Mad Italian (172)
ReplyDeleteMerlot? Perish the thought we consume anything that – ordinary, when there are spirits and wines to sample… a jest. You need it, your news is dominated by the daily grind of living which comes with echoes of better times. The governments around your globe have no idea what they are doing, you know this from news programme. They are making it up as they go along, but what else can they do? They did not learn from past pandemics and realise people need leadership, supplies and considerate neighbours. Very few of these things happen when the world is in chaos.
I am so happy to see the use of "daily grind." I so wanted to incorporate it into one of my offerings, but it refused to fit in anywhere. I see why now...the Mad Italian employed it with greater expertise.
DeleteThe daily gring is getting grindier and grindier lately. It will be so nice when all this ends.
ReplyDelete