Back now after a couple of days researching Scottish East Coast harbours North for my current wip - I only have to say 'Sometime I need to go to ...' for my itchy-footed husband to be booking a hotel and planning the route, thus we gain a night in a hotel in which to talk to each other instead of focus on our separate interests. And relieved to see the variation (and John's cop-out) in the naming of favourites - one vote each for Patricia, David and me (Thank you Patricia) - from last week.
Words
for next week: metronome poke spine
Entries by midnight Thursday 20th August, words and winners posted Friday 21st
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.
The Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 119
ReplyDeleteThe den hummed with the metronomic mutter of voices as a platoon meeting took place and Atlas prepared to leave.
‘The Palace with Tosca’s hidden passageway an’ the old archive-burrows are good places to regroup.’ mused Nigel.
Burial-burrows be a good fall back ‘n all,’ added Trub, ‘ if yu kin stand the stink an’ pokey spaces.
Critters avoid em, an’ they’re deep an’ defendable.’
Atlas checked his tool belt, ‘I’ll let ‘er know.’
He snouted the night air at the den opening and slipped out into moonlight.
Armi watched as his friend vanished over the spine of the hill.
I was wondering how you would use metronome with your Dillo story. Really creative. I liked how Atlas snouted the night air. Little things like that really add to your writing.
DeleteI love the idea of 'archive burrows'
Deleteo me too! This is full of images that perfectly fit the characters, so clever.
DeleteI do hope that Atlas will stay safe. What a magnificent use of "poke" in the reference to "pokey spaces." As always, a totally delightful read.
DeleteAfflicted
ReplyDeleteMonica poked her eyes repeatedly, in perfect time with her Father’s metronome. She heard the familiar sonata through the floor vent as her father played the baby grand below. Soothing, really, considering her shattered spine.
She had lost her site days ago, but she could feel the ooze running down the handle of the barbecue fork she used.
The music stopped and she heard his heavy footfalls on the stairs.
“Something for the pain, my dear.” He placed a hot iron in her hand.
“Thank you, Daddy.” Her father was such a compassionate man.
Yikes John, you've excelled yourself here - truly stomach churning. Cannot read this a second time.
DeleteJohn, you have opened the door to an incredibly dark and diabolical horror. I love it!
Deletevery dark indeed...
DeleteHeavens to Betsy, John. What a nightmare of a story this is. Dark and evil and all other corresponding words...oh, and a gem to boot!
DeleteSnap: Nearly thirty years ago
ReplyDeleteTheo, in the status of latest boyfriend, was invited to Gudrun’s uncle’s yacht. Sounded harmless, potentially enjoyable, but on meeting Lars Sigmundsson foreknowledge poked at Theo’s spine: Gudrun had an alternative agenda and, watching Lars, tanned and lithe as toffee and surely less than five years older than she, Theo couldn’t really blame her.
But from the enthusiasm with which she straddled him and sent some part of the sturdy bunk banging in ever-faster mimic of a metronome, he’d guessed he’d read it wrong.
Next day Lars explained. It was Theo’s talents caught his attention: ‘Please. I have a proposition.’
It's always enjoyable to go back in time with a series like this. Theo took this jolt very well, and it seems he has a potential opportunity. Though I question its viability.
Deleteoh there's vivid images in this too, of a very different kind to the dillos and just as interesting.
DeleteBeautifully put together and pictures conjured by perfect words. An outstanding piece.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 241 - Commission
ReplyDeleteLike the sweep of a metronome, the hands of the Station Clock moved toward the top of the hour. This did not go unnoticed by George, who poked a tobacco-stained digit into his sister's ribs to draw attention to the fact.
Miss Constance's spine stiffened with indignation at the assault upon her person. George had been an annoyance even as a small boy. Always tiresome. Always irksome.
He took her hand. Her mind's eye recalled grubby fingers and dirt-encrusted nails.
"Why did you come here, George?"
"Because somebody has to make sure you actually get away this time."
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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/cripplegate.html
A link to return to "The Prediction" can be found on the site. Thank you.
----------------------------------------------------------
Good luck to George getting Miss Constance away from the Junction. At least someone has an inkling as to the dangers. Nicely done, Patricia.
DeleteWhat a wonderful reply by George! Can be taken in any number of ways and I yearn to know what happens next.
Deletewill George succeed? It would seem Miss Constance is more concerned with his cleanliness, not that you can blame her for that...
DeleteOrchestral Manoeuvres
ReplyDelete“Just poke the damn metronome,” said the Bosun.
The boy tapped the mechanism. It began to tick.
Piano driven cogs groaned to life as a dozen aviators struck multiple harmonious chords to the keys. The horn section hushed stream to the pistons. The harpist strummed the ascent. The spine of the mighty Musicologista juddered as she rose symphonically to glide above the red desert.
In awe the boy watched the spider limbed bison scatter in panic.
“Mars, my lad,” a said the Bosun. “When we drop our bombs on the canals they’ll sound like kettle drums.”
The gods at work, it seems. Very creative, David.
DeleteWidescreen thinking here David, very creative.
Deleteoh yes, a whole different scenario when looked at that way. Good one, David.
DeleteWhat a most creative take on the prompt words. Not easy to do with a difficult selection and yet accomplished here with such expert ease. This was as smooth as the described mechanism appears to function.
DeletePicture This
ReplyDeleteThe horror genre of cinema has a most enthusiastic following. Avid fans who delight in spine-chilling, hair-raising and blood-curdling scenarios. The gorier the better. Not to mention heightened suspense, like the deliberate rhythm of a metronome, culminating in the inevitable climax of murder and mayhem.
Plot lines prod and poke at apprehensive consciousness and nudge inner fears with a delicious sense of upcoming pandemonium.
Ah...how easy it is to get completely lost in the moment.
And in the enveloping darkness of the theater, terrified screams of innocent victims...not necessarily emanating from the screen.
The horror has an agenda. Very crisp and enjoyable writing, P.
Delete'Not necessarily emanating from the screen'... what a deliciously provocative phrase, Patricia. It certainly raised my eyebrows.
DeleteI'm glad I didn't read this before I wrote my similar scenario - this week's horrible words caused me no end of problems, which you solved far more elegantly.
DeletePatricia, you actually made the prompts an elegant part of your piece here, with its double killer last line. Magnificent.
DeleteRevenge Served Cold
ReplyDeleteCarl looked up at the filthy grate above. With metronome precision, goat piss rained down, viscous and reeking. Occasionally, goats would accidentally drop a morsel of the slop they were eating, and Carl would dive for it in the spine high muck.
Fine, I’m sorry!” he called out.
Pricilla poked her face over the edge.
“So, you’ll start doing the dishes again?”
“Yes, anything you say.”
“Ok, I’ll check in tomorrow and see if you really mean it.”
A Billy goat lay prone on the grate, a lone testicle hanging low. Carl flexed, jumping with all his might. He was certain he could reach it.
What the devil has gotten into you, John? You have really dived into the depths of depravity, and you have me entranced!
DeleteWhat Jim says. With bells on. Tolling.
DeleteWhat's the most outstanding here... John's truly nasty story or Sandra's perfect 7 word response...
DeleteSo to what darkened depths did your mind travel this week, John? You have most certainly excelled any journey one could make into the horrific with these two tales. I really can't decided which I enjoyed the most....
DeleteTHE BOX IV
ReplyDeleteA figure lumbered from a corner of The Box and into a narrow spine of earth brightened by moonlight. Filthy, frowzy hair draped his shoulders; a snarled growth of beard masked his face. He was skeletal, with skin sagging unevenly from his bones.
He seemed a dead man, one long ago abandoned by God and humanity.
He faced me and sank to the ground. His tongue poked from his mouth as though it were searching for words, and he wheezed an audible metronome of fetid breath.
Yet his eyes burned.
I feared I was in the company of a madman.
I've a nasty feeling this won't end well.
DeleteWhat a compelling character this death figure is. Could he possibly be any worse? Great horror here, Jim.
DeleteIt definitely won't end well - but what a great description of a death ridden man...
DeleteReminded me of some of those pieces of art by William Blake. What magnificent descriptions. So much to admire here that it's difficult to pick one single phrase. I guess I'll just remain envious of them all!
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship no 18
ReplyDeleteNothing has been added to the books this week, even though with metronomic regularity I ask them to fill one book. But the pulse flickers and races at times and the sorrow of the loss of the dog has interrupted communication, along with chronic insomnia through heavy muggy nights. I long for Autumn, which will straighten my spine when I walk, give my whole being a rest from the heat and noise and let me post the next issue of my magazine, the one I love best. It will come… Autumn always comes, eventually!
My sympathies, for all of these. It does feel autumn's already begun up here.
DeleteI too am looking forward to Autumn. I think it always was my favourite time of year, along with Spring. I always found (and still do) Summer and Winter a little too intense one way or another for me. Nevertheless, your report of little happening at your end still makes for a very interesting read.
DeleteSometimes a little slowness isn't all that bad. As long as it doesn't last too long.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (111)
ReplyDeleteThey tried hard to save Asha, Did all they could possibly do but she slipped away, leaving desolate people. Shaun’s teen daughter has taken it particularly bad. I’ve been trying to divert his thoughts as best I can. It doesn’t help that there’s a bill of £2000. The shop clock stopped its metronomic music and said time was standing still, Shaun and I got our spines straight and tackled today’s stock influx, 50+ cans of marine paint and 2 massive benches… which got our pulses racing – only to find there is a chance the whole lot will be sold… perhaps…
So sorry to hear about Asha. My commiserations to Shaun and his daughter. Never easy to lose a friend or companion. Time does heal, but the loss often lingers. As the saying goes, been there, done that...more than once. Good heavens, 50+ cans of marine paint. Bet that takes up a lot of store space.
DeleteI need to ask... are the 50 cans of marine paint all the same color? Is there anything at your shop you don't sell? You definitely lead an interesting life.
DeleteThe Mad Italian (170)
ReplyDeleteIt is incomprehensible to me that with metronomic timing I have been here 170 weeks, dispensing wisdom and occasional humour, giving you thoughts to increase the pulse and stiffen the spine, knowing no matter what the politicians do or say, you are the one in complete control of your life. The vexed issue of masks is invading so many places. Is it the covering up or the sense of being shut away from the world, unable to read smiles or frowns, which is causing the problem? This too will pass.
I hadn't thought about masks actually "masking" expressions, but of course, our Mad Italian is right on the money again. I will have to make a point of smiling at someone through the covering and see if the smile back...assuming I get one...actually reaches the eyes.
DeleteThe latest thing i heard today about face coverings is 'mask mouth'
DeleteIt occurs from prolonged mask wearing and breathing through the mouth, which is causing bad breath and tarter buildup on the teeth.
Change of focus [390]
ReplyDeleteA face and a name which, despite Philly Stepcart saying was likely to be false, felt like the first two steps on a path as yet unmapped; stepping stones on a trail which would take them through a forest of misleading clues, from which they would have to seek, to snatch snippets of evidence poking sly and half-seen from twisted branches; snagging feet as they almost stumbled past. Ever-present in John Pettinger’s head, as if it were a spine-chilling film, a murder mystery, a black-note soundtrack, dictated by a metronome programmed to gradually go ever faster, racking tension ever tighter.
that's called really winding up the tension!
DeleteLovely references to enhance the thoughts being put forward here. I particularly liked the idea of "evidence poking sly and half-seen from twisted branches." You have such a command of language, Sandra.
DeleteAn entire story in 2 sentences. And what marvelous sentences they were. Antonia is right about the tension building and Patricia was quick to note your skills with language. Very astute of them.
DeleteBe sure your sins … [Threshold 312]
ReplyDeleteWhat Raven allegedly “found”, in a suspiciously short space of time, was Marauder Man’s own SUV.
Attempting to poke a deflationary hole in his cockiness I said, ‘You should’ve found the owner – he’s a better driver than me,’ but with a careless insouciance that froze my spine in a manner never felt before, he said, ‘Not now he’s dead he’s not.’
‘Dead? How? … Why?’
‘He tried to tell me it'd be dangerous for you to drive.’
‘… Dangerous? In what way?’ Similarly, I’d never before felt my conscience tick with metronomic accusation. Marauder Man had only told the truth.
and truth always shakes everything up. It will be interesting to see where this is heading.
DeleteI don't know why, but I often find myself wavering between the modern world and not-so-modern world with this serialization. A tribute to how you are able to maneuver perception, Sandra.
DeleteI'm not surprised she's a bad driver. Shes more of a horse person.
DeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Eleven) - "The Mysterium And Metronome Macabre"
ReplyDeleteThe Mysterium, home to many a pig-in-a-poke, boasted a secluded corner devoted to the melodious muse. Among the curiosities, a miniature pipe organ, original Maelzel's Metronome (the ancient Macabre Model) and yellowed volume of sheet music with "Chords for Clowns, Chorales and Carnivals" printed along the spine.
On certain nights...usually during a blue moon...strains from "Entry of the Gladiators" could be heard drifting from the Mysterium. The music was unsettling. Discordant.
The refrain abruptly silenced should anyone approach the source of the music.
The identity of the keyboardist, observed only in silhouette, remained an enigma.
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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: The Mysterium has featured in previous episodes.
So very atmospheric!
DeleteAbsolutely! The images are sharp and vivid, which is a good basis for a set of creepy images to add to an overall feast.
DeleteA mysterious keyboardist playing a pipe organ... shades of Phantom of the Opera. I hope we see more of this.
DeleteI love Kursaal. This is one of your best efforts, Patricia. Every word flows with the next, seemingly effortless, but obviously not. I wonder if the identity of the keyboardist will ever be known, though you did drop a hint or two.
Delete