Thank you for last week's entertainment - please do name your favourite, then do your best with the following:
this week’s words are: former, lake plaster
Entries by midnight Thursday 8th October, new words posted Friday 9th
Friday 2 October 2020
Words for Friday 2nd October
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I vote for Patricia's Cripplegate Junction as the winner. It's a brilliant love story, at least in Violet's eyes. I can feel the series winding down and can't wait to see what Patricia has in mind. I wonder is she can do a wedding with all the guests in 100 words?
ReplyDeleteMy vote for last week has to go to Jim's THE BOX VII.That memory of "...knowing his legs would be more appetizing if fresh" lingered long after I'd logged out. It's the kind of phrase that sticks with you.
DeleteI didn't get to comment last week, but I read all the wonderful stories and I'd pick 'Last Dance' by Patricia.
DeletePolitical Affairs
ReplyDeleteThe former mayor of South Haven walked the shore of Lake Michigan, wingtips in hand. He was plastered, a violation of the rules. No alcohol allowed in the State Park. It said so right there on that sign he’d had commissioned. He roared and threw his beer bottle at it, missing by fourteen feet.
How was he supposed to contest the election? What happened? He thought he had it adequately rigged.
He heard cheering from the streets. He could picture the smug bastard in his cheap toupee. The son of a bitch had outrigged him.
Great little sketch which draws the reader right in, the narrative cleverly imbuing the text with the drunkenness and frustration of the mc.
DeleteA great statement on the ugly side of politics... which seems to be the only side these days. Well done, John.
DeleteThere's something very appealing in that "missing by fourteen feet".
DeleteThis I simply love..love...love.
DeleteNuff said.
how so say a lot in a few words. Brilliant depiction, John, loved it.
DeleteOld Soldiers Never Die
ReplyDelete‘He can’t be gone,’ said Jack. ‘There was no pulse.’
Lynn was sobbing. ‘You were in pain.’
Lynn’s husband, Mike, was a former soldier. He fought back hard before they suffocated him, broke Jack’s wrist into the bargain. They’d planned to bury him by the lake but had to leave the body while Lynn drove Jack to A&E for a plaster cast.
A floorboard creaked.
They turned.
‘Run,’ said Mike, raising his shotgun.
Jack’s eyes popped wide.
‘Run?’
Mike laughed.
‘Back in Basra I always let the bastards run before I blew their brains out.’
Took me a while to catch up with the logic of the first two lines, but got there.
DeleteGood intro to a homicidal intrigue.
The title says it all - but the story makes it kick.
DeleteSuch fine, crisp writing. The reader is quickly pulled through this well crafted adventure.
DeleteWow, that was one kicker of a last line.
DeleteI agree with Sandra...the title does indeed say it all.
Great stuff.
Turn about is fair play. A very satisfyingly ending. Nice one.
Deletecharacterisation and story background in 100 words. What can I say?
DeleteOld Times' Sake
ReplyDeleteWe were sixth formers when we first visited the lake, intrigued by the legend and eager to investigate the fabled summoning for ourselves. Everyone made a plaster cast of their right hand to be thrown into the water..one of the mysterious rituals.
Some of us still return every year to catch up and compare notes.
Some of us never did leave.
Brilliantly escorted from the innocent through the creepy to the last ominous line.
DeleteTalk about a last line sneaking up on you! So sneaky... and potent, Patricia!
DeleteFrom sunshiney innocence to whispered horror, in four clever sentences.
DeleteIt was such a nice, touchy feely tale for a while there, until that Patricia wit kicked in. You're the queen of last lines.
Deleteit's the sense of innocence which traps you and you can't go anywhere but toward that last line. Such clever writing.
DeleteEXILES (continued)
ReplyDeleteShaking himself free of the siren song of his former life, Colm set to the task of finding his way back to the seafront compound where Mary was doubtless wringing her hands in worry.
The light was failing and the alien crystalline landscape which had devoured his home and countless friends and family was shedding its rainbow hypnosis for a shimmering blue-gray which gave Colm the impression that he was about to immerse himself in a winter lake.
He picked up a bit of wayward drywall and started back, deftly using the plasterboard fragment as chalk to mark his way.
That second paragraph - so atmospheric.
DeleteI'm going to have to remember "free of the siren song of...former life." I'm pretty sure I can use it in the future, assuming I can get away with it.
DeleteI agree with Sandra on that second paragraph, really adds to the dire straits Colm is in.
DeleteSo easy to read; this flows so smoothly along.
DeletePerry, you're drawing pictures even as you build the story, not taking time out to do one and then the other - I just left a review on Amazon for someone who does just that. I really only need you guys and your 100 words each week!!
DeleteChange of focus [397]
ReplyDeleteAleks! Bollocking Christ, he was unfit to be a father!
Not only had Philly Stepcart's words reminded Pettinger he had a son, but also of his former antipathy to journalists, now drowned in a lake of lust.
So – what time? Half ten. Past bedtime? He'd better phone –
'Papa! Hi! Sally's sister says you probably too plastered to come home –'
'Not true –'
'So I am at her house.'
'Tell her… tell her I'm sober but need my sleep. I'll collect you in the morning.'
Philly's expression, as he disconnected, one of questioning amusement. 'How d'you know he's not lying?'
Quite a suspicious reply from Papa. Great use of dialog.
DeleteBugbear gone apparently. Great bit of dialogue, following a forceful use of metaphor. Lake of lust - great prompt use. And nicely topped off with the cynicism of experience from Philly.
DeleteLove the way Philly can get under Pettinger's skin at times. Not easy to achieve. She has my admiration.
DeleteI loved the question mark after 'past bedtime?' Kind of reinforces Petingers fatherhood skills. But then, we've all left a kid somewhere in our parenting lives.
Deletecutting dialogue and boiling emotions in this instalment, leading us ever on...
DeleteNavigation [Threshold 319]
ReplyDeleteMy questioning of miscegenation potentially inflammable (didn't want to make plaster saint of maybe-sainted grandfather), I changed the subject. Nodded, to the Santana-labelled plastic in Raven's hands. 'It's a cassette. A former way of storing music. Marauder Man did seem something of a throwback – but he said you'd told him to deliver me –'
'You called him silent!'
'A man of few words, certainly.'
And since words looked likely to sow further dissension, I pointed southwards. 'That shiny bit might be a lake. I suggest we drive that way.'
'It's the sea.' he said, releasing the brake and moving off.
Questioning of whossitsnow? New word for my collection. I see you slipped in a previous prompt with Santana.
DeleteAll to goo effect - a rapid-fire exchange of words among two characters with minor explanatory narrative weaving an intriguing scenario which paints their personalities so effectively.
I feel this is gearing up into something quite explosive. But then again, this is Raven we're talking about here!
DeleteYou can't go wrong with driving toward the sea. Especially when words start piling up in dissension. Nice piece, Sandra.
Deleteagree with everyone here, it's your sharp dialogue which cuts through the miasma of description (you can tell I was unhappy with the book I just reviewed...) and brings this serial to life every week.
DeleteTHE BOX VIII
ReplyDeleteMercifully trapped within madness, Rudy, formerly the skeleton man, didn’t notice his demise while Randy and I amputated his right leg. Forthwith, we removed his left leg, figuring we’d have edible meat longer if we alternated legs when dining.
I tracked days by scratching lines into a wall, and within a month Rudy’s legs and other palatable parts were all but gone. With our rations nearly exhausted, an expanding lake of doubt steadily dampened conversation between Randy and me.
Soon, Randy’s intentions were plastered all over his face.
Thereafter, I kept my weapon, a sharpened radius from Rudy, in hand.
The "expanding lake of doubt" a brilliant use of the prompt.
DeleteLOL Always good to have expert advice in the rotation of edible body parts of former friends. I love the matter-of-fact meander through horror towards the imminent menace.
Delete"Other palatable parts," huh? How the mind doth boggle over that little piece of information. Yet another deliciously evil installment.
DeleteI liked how Rudy didn't notice his own demise. It seems logical the remaining two will have thoughts of eating each other soon. Only in The Box...
Deleteit's an enviable trait to ignore where your meal is coming from but calmly discuss where the future meals are coming from... roll on the next instalment!
DeleteABANDONMENT
ReplyDeleteTo the boy, the supermarket was a wonderland where all the pictures of neighbourhood-shared sales catalogues came to life.
Aisles were surging rapids of mammies and children with the occasional former mammy, now Grandma, in tow.
More open in design, upstairs had been a lake with gentle undercurrents of mulling shoppers.
“NOW, Gortai,” the mother hissed, hauling at his hand as he ogled an array of loose sweets.
He disengaged to retrieve the precious plaster which had fallen from his sweaty knee.
“Please yourself,” he heard as he fumbled among adult legs.
When he rose smiling triumphantly, she was gone.
Looks like this lad pushed his mammy a bit too far. Quite the novel entry, Perry.
DeleteThere've been times when I'd've welcomed a shop in which to lose my children!/ The catalogues coming to life reminded me of the fun they used to have with the Mothercare catalogue.
DeleteApparently, my mother once left me in Woolworths when I threw a blue fit over wanting a feather duster. She told the Manager that I wasn't hers. Presumably, she eventually carted me away...still screaming no doubt. Loved this. Thanks for the memory...well, sort of memory cos I really don't remember the incident myself, only what I was told.
DeleteShe'll be back...won't she? I'd like to ridicule her for her action, but I kind of don't blame her.
Deletemost mother's dream... I hear the screaming kids from across the main road and wonder how people cope. My one daughter, no offspring, no intention of offspring, suits me fine. Grandma? Me? No way. I have every sympathy with that particular mother!
DeleteNow What?
ReplyDeleteThe plasterer had failed to show up to fix cracks in her living room wall.
A former lover had dissed her on Facebook.
And to top it all, she'd gone and dropped the damn sword in the water.
The Lady of the Lake was not having a good day.
Absolutely love this - succinct, dry and entertaining.
DeleteThis is great, Patricia. The 'bad day'items are very clever.
Deleteoh so clever! I wish I knew how you did it!!!!
DeleteAs-yet apprentice
ReplyDeleteFrom the doorway, spot-lit, it looked like marble. Gleaming, mottled, yellow-white, delicate scribbled zig-zags delineating sections.
Regrettably, the far side was less … perfect. The crude plaster of its hasty repair unpolished. And the still-adherent mouth, garish from a necessarily-thick application of Crimson Lake lipstick. A mistake.
My current wife would, of course, enter from the doorway. The pressure of her foot setting in slow motion the rotating stand on which my former wife's skull had been placed. On a drape of blood-crimson velvet.
I did regret the damage to her face.
And won't make the same mistake again.
Oh my....we are talking hard-core original Twilight Zone stuff here. What horrors this does conjure.
DeleteSandra the horror writer. Delicious stuff. Nothing like a skull on a rotating stand.
DeleteAn excursion into the depths of horror, Sandra. This is my kind of stuff!
Deletething is, you said you didn't write horror, so have we converted you to the joys of blood, guts and nightmares? If so, is this a very good example of what we can expect in future - please?
DeleteThank you all, but I confess this isn't at all the brand of horror I like to write - so some of what you lot are doing must be rubbing off!
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship 25
ReplyDeleteThere’s a beautiful lake alongside the road I drive twice a day, each time longing for the chance to pull over, a plaster for the worries and woes of the day, but no can do. It’s privately owned… It was formerly a quiet free place to where people could wander. This is one reason why meditation is so valuable, an opportunity to visit many peaceful and meaningful places. It was during one meditation I was told my new-to-me car is blue. Today Shaun showed me a car – could be dark blue. I am waiting on a chance to view…
Ooohhh...a new car. You must fill us in with all the details when it comes to pass.
DeleteIt's great that a lake setting one drives by can be so thought provoking. Good luck with the car.
Deleteno go with the car. She didn't message Shaun back about viewing but she has dropped the price by £100, so what's wrong with it? I still wait for my blue car. Sob sob.
DeleteStill in our teens my future husband announced the purchase of a green Bond minicar (he only had a motorbike licence). When it arrived it was blue (and the bonnet had a disconcerting habit of flying up every time we drove over a bump.)
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (118)
ReplyDeleteQuieter week from the workers, who have probably destroyed enough plaster to keep them happy. Fingers xxd all else goes well. When the flats were ‘renovated’ formerly, we ended up with a mini lake on the shop floor and lots of damage. Meantime, virtually all dolls’ houses sold, furniture, tools, books, suddenly a crazy spate of buying which is so good. Two sofas waiting to come in next… Today I created the Remembrance display, which must have been inspired, a large wooden box propped open and poppies spilling from it. Looks good. Just adding soldier photos and war poems now.
Sounds like your window display is dignified and a true tribute. I'd forgotten all about the remembrance poppies. As far as I know, they don't sell them over here...and probably not now anyway what with COVID and all.
DeleteIt's good to see the shop starting to resemble normalcy.
DeleteIncreased shop activity sounds good!
DeleteThe Mad Italian (177)
ReplyDeleteIn my former life I met many people, sat by many a lakeside and admired plaster frescos and yet, I have to admit it, I find more satisfaction in writing these brief notes for you. I like the contact with my channel and I like to read your comments. I confess to still living with the massive ego that kept me going in the dire times back then, times which we all endure and seem to go on enduring. Nothing stays good, does it? But we have no choice but to keep on battling government and ineptitude and – Enough!
I can imagine our Mad Italian lounging on the bank of a lake....Como, perhaps....delivering words of wisdom to those who search for the truth. Couldn't send him over here to set foot into the White House, could you?
DeleteThis is my favorite Leonardo entry to date. It's satisfying to know he likes our comments. I also like his modesty about his formsr life.
DeleteBattling government and ineptitude... I wonder what life would be like without this never-ending conflict? You have me thinking, Antonia.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 246 - Dream A Little Dream
ReplyDeletePoppy, former proprietress of the Turnstile Kiosk (whose shutters had been closed for a while), settled comfortably in her seat, clutching a brochure of the Lake District. She'd always fancied roaming the area with its fells and moorlands and climbing Scafell Pike to view the peaks...plaster-grey frescoes against a windswept sky.
Curled at her side, Marmalade purred...a rumble in his tummy...and presumably envisioned a different fantasy. Chasing mosaic dragonflies or stalking fuzzy caterpillars, perhaps.
Lost in reverie, neither noticed the train had moved along the platform (though not yet quite full steam ahead) and was almost at the Railway Arches.
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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.
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Moved? How far? and how silently? Will Poppy reach the Lake District?
DeleteThe train moved? Heavens to Betsy. You have certainly created some memorable characters in this series, Patricia. So well done throughout.
ReplyDeleteNot QUITE done yet, John....but possibly close.
DeleteStunning images created here, Patricia... plaster-grey frescoes against a windswept sky; a rumble in his tummy.' So nicely done.
ReplyDeleteseems like the train is on its way to - somewhere, hope we get to find out what happens when it clears the Railway Arches!
Delete