In the end it was David's trading custard creams for jewellery that elevated him into first place this week, such a smoothly-written tale, one of several contenders which took quite a lots of separating. At times it doesn't seem fair to you that each week the choice is mine, but I assume none of you are distressed enough to desert. And thank you, as ever for a week of writing and the all-important sharing of comments.
this week’s words are: alarm contradict hump
Entries
by midnight Thursday 26th November, new words posted Friday 27th
ANGEL
ReplyDeleteAtop the lookout tower, being free of the responsibility of alarm-sounding, Dooney circled the pile of flammables ready to be used for the beacon.
He’d been playfully – and noisily – slapping items he’d seen Joanie personally hump up the ladder.
“…and that one!”
Joanie lowered the binoculars and glanced in his direction. He was pointing at a huge wardrobe she’d never a hope of budging.
She didn’t contradict him. He was just looking for attention.
A wayward breeze ruffled his filigree hair so that it stood almost erect for a moment. Caught in the setting sun, it looked like a halo.
I enjoyed the description of Dooney's 'filigree hair', as well as his playful and likely annoying (poor Joanie) exuberance. :)
DeleteWhat I like about this is, even though Dooney is being a pain, he still has the halo quality to him. Ver clever.
DeleteHow irritating 'playfulness' can be! Hope Joanie finds a way to effectively deal with Dooney.
DeleteVery picturesque descriptions and lovely incorporation of the prompt words. Little rascals can so often give the illusion of little angels.
Deleteclever balance of annoyance and acceptance between the characters, a situation we'll all experienced at some point of our lives. Lovely use of the prompts.
DeleteThe Privileged Few
ReplyDeleteChristian paused, hand on the doorknob as alarms blared. Last time he burst into the room; he’d caught Uncle Cedric humping his night nurse.
So he knocked.
“Come in,” said Cedric.
“Sir, we must get out! There’s a fire!”
“I know. I started it.”
Contradiction raged through Christian’s head.
“Don’t worry, my boy. Save yourself. You’ll get your share.”
Christian picked up the frail man and carried him through the smoke. Outside, his siblings frowned at the site.
“Uncle Cedric!” said Abigail. “I’m so glad you made it out.”
“Shut up, you cow. My soul heir’s shirttail is on fire.”
Love it - hilarious. Are the 'sight' and 'sole' misspellings deliberate? I've missed the significance.
DeleteSadly, no significance to the misspellings. I'm prone to such. Kind of takes the zip out of things.
DeleteThere's something very human in the misunderstandings of this brief tale. Loved the shirttail on fire.
DeleteSounds like Uncle Cedric has plans to go out in a blaze. Very curious what he was like before the nursing home. :)
DeleteAmusing and different as always, John. You can constantly be relied upon to lighten the mood and bring a smile to everybody's face with your little humorous scenarios....at which you excel, I might add.
Deletecleverness combined with sharp writing wins every time. These characters come over well. The spelling errors go to confirm that our language really does need tidying up[.. it's one of the reasons I don't use the Dragon voice recognition software, it can't tell the difference at times between words which should be clear enough but then the dragon hasn't been speaking English very long...
DeleteCongrats, David, on a very entertaining story.
ReplyDeleteYes a sad but accurate reflection on the human animal, not just the treating of custard creams as currency, but that some in an apocalypse would still be valuing jewelry enough to take it off their hands for whisky!!! Shock.
DeleteMagnificent story, David. I somehow knew that one was going to take top honours...and from such a talent crop of tales last week too.
Deletedropping my congratulations in here, David, great piece of writing again. I missed the custard creams scenario to use the prompt because since I went gluten free, I've been denied the biscuits I once loved. The substitutes are NOT the same.
DeleteDEADLY TIDE
ReplyDeleteSadly, practice contradicted theory. The crystalline jungle was not repelled by all asphalt. Only some breadcrumb samples laid down by Caolin remained inviolate: most being dissolved by the glassy tide.
Some road-safety ramps, for instance, were only suggested by eroding street signs of “HUMPS FOR 30 YARDS”, others remained black and proud island oases.
‘Must be – something – to do – with raw mat – erial – sourcing,’ Caolin offered from his undignified position.
Colm had tired his ass references.
‘Stars still there,’ he said breathlessly.
What was more alarming was that the night-gases expelled by the alien silica could just as easily absorb them.
Lots of cool tidbits in this, my favorite being, crystalline jungle.
DeleteAlarming indeed, those night-gases.
DeleteIt's always fascinating when there is something dangerous but also beautiful, as I imagine the 'glassy tide' is quite striking.
DeleteYet another brilliantly descriptive story. The words you used here, Perry, are nothing less than inspirational and create such a vivid visual.
Deleteit's the visuals which make your stories stand out. Admiration from me.
DeleteCount Chavula’s Blues (In Death We Didn’t Part)
ReplyDeleteShe’s got the hump with me. Someone forgot to set the bleedin’ alarm. It was well past midnight when we tumbled out of the old Gerry Goffins. She said she was gaggin’ for a jugular. Fangs tingling like nobody’s business.
I was all over the place transformationwise. Turned into a gnat instead of a bat.
Her laugh was full of spite. “Ooh, ain’t you a contradiction?”
“Shut your gob and fetch my cape,” I says.
Ended up in a right old barney.
I’ll tell you, mate, I am dreading five hundred years of her bending my earhole.
Such a clever, entertaining tale, David! Perhaps the Count will consider driving a stake through his own heart.
Delete(Repeated,by mistake, below under comments for Patricia's WHO CAN THAT ATTRACTIVE GIRL BE?)
Deliciously funny. Fangs a lot.
Delete)P.S. my comment on John's repeated all by itself. Misbehaving.
What did he expect, when he transformed into fhe wrong critter? A very entertaining read, David.
Delete"gaggin’ for a jugular" - excellent.
DeleteHaha, still laughing imagining a vampire gnat.
DeleteThis was totally and absolutely unique and chuckle-worthy and I just loved it. What a take on an old chestnut of a genre, stories about which can come across as so stale and done before. Not so in this case. And I adored the vernacular. So many wonderful turns of phrase to choose from, but I think "bending my earhole" is the best. Years since I've heard that.
DeleteNow you will understand why when David sent me one of these off-the-wall stories, which was also a satire, I laughed so much it hurt. This is just as good, David, not sure how you do it but keep on doing it, please...
DeleteWho Can That Attractive Girl Be?
ReplyDeleteIt's alarming how charming I feel," she warbles, pirouetting around the floor, all gauche and graceless, yet totally absorbing.
"And so pretty..."
Who are we do contradict her, even though that hump of a parasitic twin perched upon her shoulder, all toothless and drooling, grins at us from across the room?
In a sense, this reminds me of WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE. Blind, yet delicious, horror!
DeleteHilariously gross - in a raising social awareness sort of way.
DeleteA striking and uncomfortable image to be sure. With how most of our stories go, I can't help but see something sinister in the twin's grin.
DeleteWhat a sight these two make. A little literary masterpiece here.
DeleteStuff of nightmares, enhanced by your telling of it.
Deleteclever nasty little twist on this one, which Patricia does so well!
DeleteSuch a clever, entertaining tale, David! Perhaps the Count will consider driving a wooden stake through his own heart.
ReplyDeleteIF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED
ReplyDelete“Take the gun.”
I took it.
“Put the barrel to your temple.”
I didn't.
“Put the gun to your temple!”
I did.
“Pull the trigger.”
I couldn’t.
A gun appeared before my eyes. Heightened alarm stampeded through me.
“You must get past this hump! Now, pull the trigger!”
Contradiction erupted in me: Do it… don’t do it.
“Pull the damn trigger!” The voice angry, demanding.
I pulled the trigger.
The click of the hammer reverberated throughout the small room.
“Give me the gun.”
I did.
“We will try again tomorrow.”
The door closed. I heard the lock snap into place.
The scene in The Deerhunter leaped to my mind. Hadn't thought about that movie in decades.
DeleteDang, Jim. What a wild ride this was.
DeleteOh wow. Talk about being on the edge of your seat. Beautiful build up of tension. And the location is so easily imagined despite there being not one word of description.
Deleteagree with Patricia, beautiful build up of tension and that's hard to do.
DeleteMAYBE TOMORROW
ReplyDelete“Pick up the gun.”
I did.
“Put the barrel against your temple.”
I did.
“Pull the trigger.”
I couldn’t.
“I said pull the trigger!”
My hand shook. Heightened alarm stampeded through me.
“Damn you! Grow some balls and get over this hump in the road! Pull the trigger!”
A chilling contradiction erupted in me: Do it… Don’t do it.
The voice… angry, demanding. “PULL THE DAMN TRIGGER!”
I couldn’t.
The voice once more… demeaning, rife with contempt! “Coward! Spineless jellyfish!”
I looked down and placed the gun on the table.
I looked again in the mirror.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I whispered.
Clever comeback. The mirror was so powerful. Hopefully, tomorrow the gun will be unloaded omce again.
DeleteSecond try, three times as frightening.
DeleteA chilling scene. I enjoyed the contrast between the first and second pieces.
DeleteAnd the tension ramps even higher. I loved these continuations that weave their way through a single week. So difficult to pull off effectively. And this is achieved with what seems to be no effort at all.
Deletethis is just as scary, but somehow the pared down shaved-to-he-bone (or the bullet, if you like) one had the impact of the bullet in the telling. But this stars as well in its own light,.
DeleteMirage? [Threshold 326]
ReplyDeleteFar from being alarmed by my crouched and now strenuously dry-heaving convulsions, Raven wasn't even looking at me. Instead, similarly ignoring the feather- and shit-showering agitation of birds above us, their anger at our preventing them continuing their bloody feast raucously expressed, he gazed several degrees north of the brightness we'd been aiming for, and held a self-contradictory conversation with himself.
'Yes. No. It can't be, but … yes!' He looked down at me, 'Can you see?'
Eyes streaming, arms tight-wrapped around the wretched hump of myself I could barely raise my head. 'What?'
'Rescue! Rescue … I think. Maybe.
I have a feeling the brightness in the north is not a rescue. But i look forward to hearing about it.
DeleteI agree, there is something ominous about the birds and Raven's one-sided conversation. Loved the phrase 'eyes streaming, arms tight-wrapped'.
DeleteNot sure that I fully trust Raven, though I can't quite put my finger on that reasoning. Regardless, this story always has me in a vice grip that never lessens.
Delete...the wretched hump of myself - what a great use of language!
Deleteabsolutely. Words can be used in so many ways, this one happens to be brilliant.
DeleteChange of focus [401]
ReplyDeleteJohn Pettinger's alarm at the speed with which the studded pattern of his boot replicated itself on Philly's foot, multiple humps of magenta and purple, oozing beads of scarlet which sped to form rivulets, coursing along the parallel valleys between bones and toes was intense.
Seeing her sway, he reached again for her and, in total contradiction of his previous intent, found himself supporting her sagged weight, she having passed out with the agony of it. He lifted, carried her. Bending to lay her on his bed he heard Aleks come in, laughing, 'You've made the beast with two backs!'
Perfect timing from Aleks. Your description of the foot stomp and the results were marvelous.
DeleteEqually horrified and fascinated by the beauty of that foot stomp's description. :)
DeleteOh, Aleks...precocious boy knowledgeable beyond his years. And as for Pettinger. Well, I think he might have some 'splaining to do.
DeletePettinger often ends up with explaining to do and it's rare he doesn't find a way to get out of the latest tangle but it's not going to be easy, this one's a real mess!
DeleteAh ha! A bit of Shakespeare never hurt anyone! I'm glad to know that Aleks is well-read. Nicely done, Sandra!
ReplyDeleteENOUGH ALREADY!
ReplyDeleteThe voice said, “Look at me and put the barrel to your temple.”
I did.
“Now… pull the trigger.”
I couldn’t.
“I said… pull the trigger!”
My hand shook as heightened alarm stampeded through me.
The voice again. “You bloody coward! Get past this hump you’ve created… pull the trigger!”
A chilling contradiction erupted in me: Do it… Don’t it.
The voice… angry, demanding. “PULL THE DAMN TRIGGER!”
I couldn’t.
The voice again… demeaning, rife with contempt! “You miserable spineless jellyfish!”
I glanced at the gun then looked again in the mirror.
“Screw you!” I screamed then shot the mirror.
So, the gun was loaded. Hopefully this will shut the mirror guy up, but I doubt it.
DeleteHorror turned inward. Like John, I'd hope that was the end of it for him.
DeleteVery curious what drove the character to this state. Can't help but envision something horrible (always on the lookout for serial killers).
DeleteAnd yet another fine installment for our enjoyment. Somehow though, I doubt this is the end....at least I hope not since I am anxious for more of this psychological thriller.
Deleteoh yes, a natural but scary progression of a nasty situation - is there more?
DeleteIn the Hours Between
ReplyDeleteForrest woke in the dark. Where...? She blinked sore eyes at junk-filled shelves and peeling walls. I’m in Haven. Her heart thumped as memories returned, a jackrabbit caught inside her ribs. I’m safe. He’s gone.
Something scraped against the floor, splitting the heavy silence.
Alarmed, Forrest rolled onto her feet. Was he contradicting her already? “Hello?” She shoved aside the curtain of broken pocket watches, fingers tangling in their chains. “Brandon?”
Another scrape, closer now.
Scuttling sideways, Forrest reached for the hump of her backpack. Out the door, down the stairs.
A tap of nails against the floor.
Run.
You certainly weave a tale of suspense with this, Holly. I enjoyed it greatly.
Delete"curtain of broken pocket watches" just one of the tantalising descriptions.
DeleteSuspense galore in this offering...and woven into such an intriguing and lovely tale. So much to admire here, but I do believe "a jackrabbit caught inside her ribs" is my ultimate favourite.
DeleteThis drips with dread, Holly. Very nice!
Deletethe crime series I have just finished reading had dreadful scenarios but not quite with the edge this one has - so I know where I come for proper scares...
DeleteThank you everyone!
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 249 - Hamnet's Quandry/Part Four
ReplyDelete(a/k/a Go Your Own Way)
With supreme effort, Hamnet cleared the turnstile and waited fearfully for the alarm signalling his flight. When none came, he crept toward the Railway Arches, twin humpback bridges that spanned the tracks from east to west.
Each arc of the masonry bore an individually etched message:
"Salvation Right"
"Damnation Left"
Obvious choice would be "Right," but Cripplegate teemed with contradictions. Hamnet doubted his ability to make the correct selection. Then, he spied a small door nestled between the connecting wall of the arches.
Neither left nor right.
Would this provide a means of true escape...and the way to return home?
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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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Made me shiver, this one did.
DeleteA quandary indeed. I fear for Hamnet.
DeleteOooo very intrigued by the door in the middle. Better than the alternatives, right? Right?? :)
DeleteShades of The Lady or the Tiger. Could the door in the middle be more ominous than the ones to right or left?
Deleteyes, that story came to mind, Jim, and I wonder if the hero here has made a sensible decision or a life threatening one... something looming and cruel about those humpbacked arches for some reason, or is that the Cripplegate influence escaping?
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship 32
ReplyDeleteThe car is as smooth and easy to handle as I anticipated. Alarms go off for keys left in the ignition… all sorts of magic I have never had. It glides over humps in the road and seems imposing enough to defy any drivers who dares contradict its right of way… My bedroom wall is home to needlepoint portraits of Henry’s six wives and his daughter. They were created by one elderly talented lady. Each night my cat Kai stares at one of them for ages. Shame I don’t speak cat… or he speak English… what would I learn?
Come now, Antonia, you can't leave it at that. Which of the wives is capturing Kai's attention? Or is his focus on Mary...or Elizabeth...?
DeleteI'm glad you enjoy your car. I'm a pickup man myself.
DeleteOne must be careful of cats, for they are very crafty creatures.
Deletea pickup wouldn't suit the image, long skirts and jewellery, but I see enough of them around to know they are well loved.
DeleteKai has looked at most of the ladies, his current favourite is Katherine of Aragon, although Katherine Parr held his attention for some time recently. Last night he sat looking at an 'empty' chair, absolutely unmoving, fixed gaze, he seems to be becoming more psychic as time goes on. He's been here 4 1/2 years now and I've watched the progression.
I always wonder what it is that cats can see that we don't. Loved the description of the car at the beginning and the feeling it evokes.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (125)
ReplyDeleteWe hoped for proper access to the shop this week but the drying out goes on. I was alarmed by the quantity of mould attacking doors to cabinets and possibly the base of the cabinets too. Just hope no one wants to contradict the inventory when we submit it, we are guessing to some degree, how can we remember after 7 years how much the illuminated ones cost? Apart from anything else, the kitchen-cum-office, store for receipts and all, was badly hit by the flood. Another hump to climb over, when the drying out is done.
Sometimes, it's just one thing after another, right? Fingers crossed this is just one more Year 2020 hurdle that can be overcome given patience and time. I do hope the drying out process doesn't take too long or leave too much damage in it wake.
DeleteIt's amazing how much damage water can do, even after it dries away. Good luck wish this.
DeleteI still remember the devastation to my grandmother's house in Harwich after the 1953 floods. Loved the use of 'contradict' here.
DeleteI hope everything dries quickly! The prompts disappear so smoothly into this piece, I nearly couldn't pick them out.
DeleteThe Mad Italian (184)
ReplyDeleteYour world is alarmed at the thought of Christmas but the days are cold and long, the virus remains a perpetual hump, a travelling camel leaving illness behind it. There must be lightness. Your PM is not a man to be contradicted, he seeks accord with all but can there be such a thing? The bigger battle in the States: hero worship by one group, will create further problems as the presidency moves into its term of office. There has never been such intransigence on the part of a ‘politician’ if we can grace the outgoing president with that description.
At least things are finally moving in the right direction over here, although the "Self-Appointed Chosen One" still refuses to admit defeat. I understand the British PM is going to lift restrictions somewhat for Christmas celebrations. I do hope he doesn't come to regret that decision. Perhaps Leonardo has some future insight on that?
DeleteStrange times to be sure. Enjoyable take from the Italian again.
DeleteYou'd think those in power would have the right priorities in a time like this, and yet... Finding comfort in the small things like how pretty the frost is outside and how cozy the fire is inside.
DeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Eighteen) - "The Mysterium...Worth A Thousand Words"
ReplyDeleteIt could be said, without fear of contradiction, that The Mysterium, hexagon-shaped tent of yellow-and-red stripes, was an archival treasure trove of the Kursaal's extensive and lengthy history. One prime artifact, a picture album of craquelured Corinthian leather, contained early photographs, many taken by means of the antiquated camera obscura.
Among these souvenirs of bygone times long past, portraits of human oddities...curiosities...freaks. Camel-Humped Girl, Chameleon Boy and Wild Woman of Borneo, for example. This age-old collection included a grainy image of conjoined twins, fused together at the cerebral cortex, who bore an alarming resemblance to Ruby and Rita Deviant.
--------------------------------------------------------
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 as well as Ruby and Rita Deviant (conjoined twins) have featured in previous episodes.
The old, long past grainy photo casts wonder on the Deviant twins. Are they imortal? What else coud it be as it seems unlikely that lookalike relatives could have the exact same condition.
Deletephotographs, old ones... just today the foreman from 'upstairs to shop renovation project' told me he used to live in another town on the island and had seen old photos taken of the town back when. One clearly shows a lady standing behind the window. The shop/house was empty at that time.
DeleteSo here you have grainy photos, the best kind to evoke history but in this case... it might not be such a good thing to the world...
Ah yes, the fascination of old photos - and the frustration - I inherited 9 albums from my great grandfather, ad too many tantalising faces are still unidentified.
DeleteOld photos are so fascinating. They seem to carry some weight or feeling that more recent color photos don't have.
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 129
ReplyDelete‘Sorry Sarg, couldn’t wait,’ Atlas blurted exhaustedly, collapsing on a hump of soft earth: The alarm in his voice was obvious.
‘Apologies Mr. Pink S.A.S duties …’ Sarg stopped as she saw the contradictorily furtive then anxious glances pass between Atlas and Pink-Fairy.
‘Wots goin’ on between yu’?’ She pointed a claw at Atlas, ‘tell me.’
Astonished that unworldly Atlas was acquainted with the Whoremadillohouse owner, Sarg was equally surprised as he revealed the additional mission Pink-Fairy had requested. ‘Care to explain, Mr Pink,’ she demanded.
Atlas guessed Mr Pink’s interest in his friend Armi was about to be revealed.
That furtive glance says it all. Very entertaining piece, Terrie.
DeleteFabulous - and so ... I was going to say human, but that almost sounds demeaning. Am so much enjoying this series.
DeleteI love how I can pick out their personalities so easily. Loved the description of Atlas' collapse and Sarg's pointed claw.
DeleteAnd we have to wait for this revelation? Surely not!!! Hopefully a second installment is on its way before this week's deadline gets here.
ReplyDeletewe can but hope... there is something going on here and we are entitled, we demand, to know what it is before next week!
Delete