Friday 30 October 2020

So you get your revenge …

 ... by making me have to decide on a favourite from a whole field of favourites.

With effort, I narrowed it down to four posts, from three of you, then swithered back and forth for an age, finally deciding on the basis that I read traces of my most-favoured fictional heroes in Perry's 'Hero'. But please, please, the heel-snapping rest of you, do not despair: if this was a horse race you'd all have muddy faces. 

 this week’s words are:  scalp tine vague

 Entries by midnight Thursday 5th November, new words posted Friday 6th

 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.

63 comments:

  1. Well done Perry, a worthy top pick of the week.

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    1. Great job, Perry. You always give us such enjoyable reads.

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    2. Wonderful to get such feedback. It is always a joy to read all the pieces here.

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  2. The Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 123

    ‘They’re in poor shape,’ Trub muttered vaguely, ‘sum kin hardly stand.’
    Nigel pounced at Aubrey and Clancy pressing them, squealing, against the tines of a thorn bush. ‘You bluddy fools the enemy is on us an all yu kin do is get drunk. Pull yerselves t’gever we gotta get this contraption in place an’ ready t’ go’. He hurled the booze-stinking pair toward the piece of equipment.
    Looking up, Aubrey spotted the injured gerbil on the contraption and belched ‘who’s the ‘alf-scalped fluff-ball?’
    ‘An ally who’s ‘ad first ‘and dealin’s with the enemy so get sober an get movin’.’

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    1. I am enthralled with this world.

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    2. ' ‘who’s the ‘alf-scalped fluff-ball?’' Brilliant!

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    3. Aubrey and Clancy squealing against the thorns was pretty funny. An entertaining installment for sure.

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    4. the characters are as entertaining as ever, and beautifully portrayed through their dialogue.

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  3. The Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 124

    At base-burrow, Sarg was not expecting the notorious owner of the Whoremadillohouse to call. She received her diminutive visitor in council-burrow.
    ‘Good of you to see me at this trying time Sergeant Screaming-Hairy.’ Pink-Fairy flicked the end of his purple feather boa over his shoulder and settled by the doorway
    Sarg’s sweaty scalp tingled and her snout twitched in warning. What did her tiny visitor know about recent events? She hid her concern by focusing on the soft, feathery, tines of his boa rippling in vague breezes, wafting through the burrow. ‘Welcome Mr. Pink, wot kin I do fer yu?’

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    1. Can't wait to find out - what a marvellous world you've created Terrie.

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    2. Very Pratchett-esque with a touch of the naughty. "Whoremadillohouse" made me laugh out loud. Not an easy task in this season of shits and fellow wistfulness.

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    3. I liked how Pink Fairy called Sarge by her full name and she called him Mr. Pink. Always a treat when Pink shows up.

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    4. it just gets more intriguing as it goes on!

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  4. Gathering magic – 15

    Batt stopped counting days. He knew, from the chill winds, seasons were changing and so was the child.
    She sprouted into a gangly girl with pale angular features. Her violet eyes deepened and sparked with golden flecks while her dark hair curled and twisted on her scalp like dark snakes when she concentrated.
    Today, as they walked, Batt tackled the vagaries of her instinctive and erratic charm-casting. ‘It’s dangerous if not thought out properly and poorly planned charm-casting spreads out, like tines on antlers. It can gather force and affect more than just that moment: Remember; all magic carries consequences.’

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    1. This seems to be perfectly in tune with the clouds hurtling past my window - blue sky and golden leaves.

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    2. jdeegan536@yahoo.com2 November 2020 at 17:13

      As always, Terrie, your marvelous use of language shines through. You are really something!

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    3. You are on a roll, Terrie. Another bit of gold. Ere, wotcher doin' wi' me antlers?

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    4. I wonder how she will take Batt's advice. I think maybe not so well. I look forward to finding out.

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    5. people rarely take advice very well, she won't be any different, which leads this fascinating serial into all sorts of strange happenings. It's so different from 'dillos and is as fascinating.

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  5. Elaborate Measures

    A blood tined pitchfork protruded from the scalp of the victim. The body was riddled with bullet holes and knife wounds, both middle fingers missing.

    “Looks like someone pissed someone off,” said the officer.

    Detective Chan rolled her eyes, a vague calmness setting in.

    “Check the anus,” she said.

    “What?”

    “Check it. The fingers might be there.”

    The officer pulled out the fingers with shaking rubber-gloved fingers.

    “How did you know?”

    “I didn’t. for sure. But you should have covered that.”

    “Yeah, right.”

    The victim jumped up and reinserted the fingers. “Christ, you’re ruining my Halloween costume.”

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    1. Oh my - I actually laughed out loud at this. So cleverly written. Thank you John.

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    2. Yes indeed, what Terrie says. Witty isn't easy to do well.

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    3. jdeegan536@yahoo.com2 November 2020 at 17:11

      In what diabolical sector of somewhere is this scene taking place? Horror with humor... well done, John!

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    4. LOL and - if I may say so -ugh! Ruined the fingers, you say? Rectum.

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    5. very funny! clever use of the prompts with this one!

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  6. Something Wicked That Way Went

    In the drab, misty silence of the first day of November Ralph pulled the rusted tines of his rake through the crisp ochre leaves that littered his lawn. Candy wrappers tumbled like tumbleweed along empty Autumnal streets.
    As the wind hushed by him Ralph felt a vague tingling in his scalp, recalling the innocent mayhem of the departed trick or treaters. Death had frolicked in their midst, like some hideous Pied Piper. And the children had danced to his melancholy tune. Eerily waltzing beneath the Halloween moon.
    Waltzing with him to Nevermore.
    Nevermore to return…

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    1. Ha! This morning, in amongst the yellow leaves, someone had dropped a gold-wrapped toffee. I guess from last night, too dark to see, but perhaps they were entranced away by Ralph ...

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    2. jdeegan536@yahoo.com2 November 2020 at 17:07

      Quite the sinister fellow you so wonderfully created in Ralph. His most assuredly is a house to avoid on all October 31sts.

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    3. VERY atmospheric with a sly comment - if I'm correct - at the neglect of social distancing being death?

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    4. An entertaining and well written piece, David. Well done.

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    5. it is very atmospheric - beautifully evoked death and autumn combined.

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  7. A smug and secret smile [Threshold 323]

    On reflection (and reflecting what I knew my mother would consider the shallow nature of my morals) I decided my excruciating headache – scalp tined to a depth thought unfeasible considering the thinness of skin upon a human skull ¬ – was worth what followed the consumption of two bottles apiece of what we'd christened Marauder Ale.

    Not that I had more than the vaguest recollection, except for rueing a lack of cushions, of the detail, but the whole of it … likely a lifetime best. (But then, I said that every time. Not necessarily to him.)

    What I didn't say was 'Bingo!'

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    1. Ooh, Marauder Ale, I like it, not the ale, the name. Nice ring to it.

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    2. yes, I like Marauder Ale, I can that being served around the island.. and a nice continuation of the serial, Sandra, intriguing as ever.

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  8. Change of focus [398]

    'Raptor? He was your mother’s brother?'
    Philly Stepcart's post-breakfast conversation-opener sent the tines of Pettinger's fork skidding through his egg-yolk. Attempting vague disinterest, 'You claimed to have a confession?'
    'Yes.'
    'It'll be false.'
    'A forgery?'
    Involuntarily, Pettinger pictured him, yellow eyes, cheekbones savage-stark. Least physical of the family but most frightening, for his ability to slice through one's scalp and tear notches in one's mind. 'He'd've confessed to nothing.'
    'Precisely.'
    'Precisely bollocking what?'
    'Paid a fortune for this document. It was blank.' Her smile not as sorry as it should've been. 'Worth it for the access to Aleks' diary though.'

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    1. jdeegan536@yahoo.com2 November 2020 at 17:02

      I loved the paragraph beginning: Involuntarily, Pettinger... such a clear, vivid picture of Raptor.

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    2. Love this story-by-dialogue excerpt. The line "sent the tines of Pettinger's fork skidding through his egg-yolk." is pure class.

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    3. So many great lines in this, Sandra. My favorite line though, was,
      'Precisely bullockig what?'

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    4. lots to admire in this instalment, with the usual high level of clever dialogue taking the story onward.

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  9. STAG PARTY

    “So … how’s our up and coming sentinel?” Colm asked as they followed the bitumen breadcrumbs through the maze of crystal.

    “Who?” Caolin pushed the repurposed dealer’s visor back over his scalp to answer. He’d been using it to contrast tar and silica.
    “Joanie. I hear she’s quite the daredevil.”

    Caolin vaguely acknowledged that Colm was trying to distract himself with innocuous conversation. He was clearly still miffed.

    “S’aright!”

    Replacing the visor, he got back on task with renewed vigour.

    He was so fixated on the route home that he stumbled over a desiccated antler, scratching his calf on a tine.

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    1. I liked Caolin's inner thoughts about Colm still being miffed. The visor was an interesting prop. Nice continuation.

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    2. we're inundated with people wearing face masks or visors these days, this fits in perfectly. Nice one.

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  10. The Book From The Sea 2

    Malook knew his brother didn’t share his love for the sea or the wild, windy, brambly-tined places of the coast. ‘We both got things that suited us. I can’t wait to feel that vague roll and swell of the sea and sleep on deck under the stars again.’

    'If that book is anything to go by, you may have to get her sea worthy first Malook.’

    ‘You may be right, Prekor but I’ll have fun doing it.’

    'The castle-keep may need looking at as well: Just don’t let any workmen scalp you out of your inheritance little brother.’

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    1. Quite a hook ... or anchor. I want to read more. You're just showing off now. :D. Another excellent snippet.

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    2. another good instalment to keep us enthralled with your ongoing serials, Terrie!

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  11. Your stories are really well done this week, Terrie. It's good to have you back.

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  12. jdeegan536@yahoo.com3 November 2020 at 16:57

    NOW I REMEMBER

    Megan awoke, her head vibrating like a tuning fork. A hand to her head revealed a deep gash in her scalp. She hadn’t the vaguest recollection of what had occurred… memory presented only flashes of blurred movement tumbling through roiling darkness.
    Her hands were sticky and red, and a glance at a wall-mounted mirror revealed a face streaked with blood.
    “What the…?” crawled from her mouth.
    She struggled from the floor and shuddered upon seeing her utterly worthless husband slumped against a wall with the tines of her garden hand tiller embedded in his skull.
    She smiled. “Now I remember.”

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    1. LOL What deliciously dark humour, though I'm still working out how she could see her face on a wall mirror from her position on the floor. But then I'm an innocent sort of fellah.

      "crawled from her mouth" - Brilliant imagery.

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    2. Tbis was great, Jim. Seems hubby put up a bit of a fight. Deliciouly dark indeed.

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    3. visualising a full length mirror, Perry, which she would be able to see, methinks. Not that I 'd want to see my face streaked with blood... or the battered worthless husband, or perhaps he deserved it? Very dark stuff.

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    4. Thanks Antonia - also a deprived sort apparently. :D

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    5. streaked, 'struggled', shuddered' and 'slumped' - and 'roiling. All deliciously apt.

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  13. The Joy of Mediumship 29
    No new visitors, instead repeat visitors who delight me. Lonnie Donegan is one, he comes with his crooner songs, a million miles from the comedy records. Nothing vague about this brilliant entertainer, who I am sure could make music by pinging the tine on a fork. Remember when 60s stars wore long hair, no scalp showing back then, not like now, when tattooed heads seem normal. Lonnie’s been in and out of my life for about fifteen years. So many come and move on, it is a joy when someone stays, a spirit friend for life. His and mine!

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    1. Nice one, Antonia. This brings to mind a shock many people my age experience when they see a former idol in their true, present state. "What happened to those flowing locks?"

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    2. jdeegan536@yahoo.com5 November 2020 at 17:08

      I long for the music of the 50's and early 60's!

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  14. Stop The Week; I Want To Get Off (122)
    Tearing hair out of my scalp, bending a tine by banging it, news which is vague in the extreme but come down to - here goes another wasted month just when things were truly turning, stock coming in, stock going out. The government has no idea of the damage being done. Fortunately both Shaun and I have work to do, and I will be checking the shop regularly as Shaun sells items (click and collect our way…) and I do the massive advertising campaign we will need to pull us back up again, Sigh.

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    1. Yeah, another wated month... yet again. When will we be back to normal?

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    2. Sigh indeed. And grit your teeth. And trust there'll be an end.

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  15. The Mad Italian (181)
    Attaining a scalp is a sign of a good hunter, but what if the blonde mess he calls a haircut – no, he is too vague, too given to fancy talk and U-turns passed by government in a chamber where the ping of a tine would wake some to the reality of life in this ‘new’ world. The virus will go. The world will return to normal. It is going to take time and constantly putting people out of work is not helping. But will the blonde buffoon listen? I have tried… he would not listen to the channel, would he?

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  16. As soon as 'blonde mess' was read, I knew who it was.

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