The time has long passed when a standard set of criteria can be applied to the week's entries, and it truly has become a no-rules; never-the-same-two-weeks-running entirely discombobulating place to enter if you are trying to do anything other than entertain. Which seems to be fine for all of us, not least because along the way we are so very richly rewarded for our time.
This week is no exception. I have no hesitation in nominating Patricia whose 'Pop-up' entry sent me to searching out 1970s Guinness ads, and the 'tock followed tick' of the waiting surfer. Magic.
Words for the coming week are: aloof
ermine rigging
I'll
schedule new words to appear Saturday 26th December (!) but don't anticipate selecting
winners from the above. Like
most folk, our Christmas plans have been altered yet again from the norm and I'll be tidying
and making preparations rather than travelling to Wales or hosting family it'll be Dearly Beloved and me spending our first Christmas just us two in 54 years of marriage.
And hopefully you too will celebrate in the best way currently possible and trust 2021 will be brighter.
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.
FATHER
ReplyDeleteThe spotlights sputtered for a few dreadful moments. Mary could hear the Black Tide seething.
Steadying of the powerful beams revealed that the ermine generals remained aloof from brood instinct to surge.
“What was that?”
“Looks like a couple of the car batteries went at the same time. Rest won’t last long.” Declan was a recent recruit – arrived in a kayak of all things.
Mary looked about for Finbar to send him back to camp to his daughter on the auspice of seeking reinforcements.
“Where--?”
“He slipped over the leeside. He’s rigging up the spares.”
“Damn, that’s too close--”
Darkness.
Nothing like a seething black tide to instill tension within the reader. Nicely done. I liked that Declan arrived in a kayak.
Delete'sputtered' - another perfect verb. Such lovely use of language.
DeleteSomething about the lights flickering always sets a scary tone. I enjoyed the imagery of 'ermine generals'.
DeleteI agree with Holly, the imagery of "ermine generals" was impressive and the thought of Declan arriving in a kayak was...for some unknown reason...quite comical. Perhaps it was the "of all things" comment that made it seem so.
DeleteI agree with Patricia, it's the comment that made the kayak seem strange, but I've realised with serials like this just about anything could come along... love the Black Tide imagery. Very vivid.
Deletequick CONGRATS to Patricia for he award last week!!
Delete"Make it up as you go along" [Threshold 329]
ReplyDeleteYou can do that with some things and not put yourself in peril. Others – a full-sailed yacht for example – get the rigging wrong and you very quickly find yourself swimming. That not a problem here: handlebars, engine, fat tyres. Raven's mistaking quad-bike for trike reminded me of a joke that used to much amuse. Now as good a time as any. 'How d'you tell a weasel from a stoat?'
'Stoat is same as ermine.'
Which wasn't the point.
A weasel is easily recognised, a stoat is totally different.' I laughed. He remained aloof, staring ahead.
I looked too. Saw why.
Nice job handling the trike vs quad problem. Looking forward to seeing qhat is approaching in the distance.
DeleteLovely inclusion of editing into the story. Droll adaptation of the children's joke 'what's the difference between Bing Crosby and a film producer - Bing smokes a pipe and Walt Disney.'
DeleteFun imagining what Raven's face looked like at hearing the joke. :)
Delete"Saw why." Saw what? How do you always manage to leave us wondering and waiting with such skill?
DeleteI stopped dead at the 'saw why?' too, it's these twists in dialogue and narrative that make the serial so compelling.
DeleteCongrats Patricia. I had a feeling about you getting the prize this week, though I wasn't sure which entry it would be, which says a lot about your writing.
ReplyDeleteI must admit, this came as something of a huge surprise. There were so many excellent submissions and I found myself struggling with these prompts at every turn. Regardless, I'll take what I can get and thank you. :)
DeleteCongrats, Patricia!
DeleteFair Play
ReplyDeleteThe ermine hunter checked his riggings with a practiced hand. Today, he would capture one or two alive, see if he could determine what makes them tick. Once caged, the aloof little buggers often just up and died, didn’t even put up a fight. Keep catching them until satisfied was his motto.
He sipped his bitter coffee and began to lose feeling in his hands. Then his legs went numb. The cabin door banged open and two hundred ermine rushed in.
If an ermine hunter screams in the forest with no one to hear it, does he make a sound?
What a wicked, unexpected, typically John Howe twist. And I suspect the answer, beneath the onslaught of two hundred ermine, is 'no'.
DeleteVery curious how they managed to drug his coffee. :)
DeleteThat'll learn ya, as the saying goes. Shame on the ermine hunter caging "the aloof little buggers" and then just watching them "up and die."
Deleteoh,. brilliant twist on the eternal question, John!
DeleteI believe it will matter little if his screams are heard or not. Brilliant, John!
DeleteMERRY CHRISTMAS to all my writing buddies!
Our Wet Nosed Foes
ReplyDeleteThe sails billowed as the ship ploughed ever northward.
Shivering in his shackles Able Seaman Dexter watched the stoats in their winter ermine hauling the rigging. He was caught midway between a nightmare and insanity. The fox assured him he’d be treated in accordance with the Villanueva Convention, while the black cat observed in aloof arrogance from yardarm. The air reeked of damp fur. His fingers touched the cold metal of the stiletto concealed in his sock. But taking a hostage would be futile. He was deep into animal territory and most of the crew were flesh eaters.
Talk about a boat from hell. Deliciously gruesome.
DeleteGruesome indeed. Stuff of nightmares.
DeleteFun imagining the animals as sailors. I could picture, and smell (damp fur!), it easily.
DeleteOooh....I loved this. What an amazing use of the prompts in creating such a tale...tail...???? Anyway, I could see this as some type of dark animation but not one probably targeted for kids. I particularly liked the image of a black cat on a yardarm.
Delete'...caught midway between a nightmare and insanity' is such a great use of language! So well done, David!
DeleteLuke 6 Bridie 1
ReplyDeleteThe woman had been found pre-dawn, on Portobello beach. The torch-carrying dog walker who near tripped over her knew enough to check for a pulse. He told the emergency responder 'She isnae yet deid but you'd best hurry. It's gey chilly to be lying oot the night.'
The police constable searching her pockets found a fake ermine-fur purse which held a key but no name. He suggested to the soon-arrived paramedics, busy rigging tubes to monitors and wrapping her in a foil blanket, she lived local, 'Canna recall her name; an aloof sort of biddy, ye ken, but DS Lloyd's on her way.'
I'm starting a new novel and, as with Snap and Theo, find it helpful to use prompt words to kick start a potential direction, so will be adding these whenever inspiration strikes. Do not expect any sort of continuity!
Love the name Portobello Beach, whether real or fictional. Can't wait to meet DS Lloyd. What is that dialect?
DeleteIt's real John, eastwards along the coast from Edinburgh. I've put a photo of it on my lines of communication blog ... DS Fran Lloyd is a long-standing member of the cast of Love triangles with murder, and was born in Edinburgh. The accent of the dog-walker is more Glaswegian.
DeleteI also find the prompt words to inspire me when I need to get moving on a story. :) The first line immediately intrigues, and I love the mystery of the key.
DeleteSounds like a prelude to a classic mystery. Shades of Agatha Christie here, what with the setting and dialect and all. Hope we get to see more.
DeleteChange of focus [405]
ReplyDeleteJohn Pettinger's first impulse, having earlier explained to Aleks why it had been deemed desirable for Philly Stepcart to sleep in his bed, was to hold himself aloof from Aleks' accusation concerning her different rigging of the notions of trust and personal privacy. Then he wondered whether he ought instead to be teaching compassion, empathy and some of those other ermine-bedecked notions of civility the British were so fond of. At least, in comparison with Khakbethian brutality.
Which set circling the ever-present worry of how long would he have Aleks for?
Which depended on what child-care arrangements he could make.
The joys of child rearing. Especially for one like Pettinger. I recommend, "Where have you been! Do you kniw what time it is?"
DeleteCompassion or brutality, very curious to find out what route Pettinger will take. Enjoyed the phrase 'ermine-bedecked notions of civility.'
DeleteI firmly believe that Pettinger will do whatever turns out best for Aleks. And frankly, I'm not so sure that wouldn't be to remain under Pettinger's wing.
DeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Twenty Two) - Whiter Than White?
ReplyDeleteMinus a few exceptions (Quinn Underwood and Paulette Merlot, along with Arbuthnot Jester's infatuation with the latter), folk from the Travelling Circus and the Kursaal remained aloof. However, the rigging of a small pavilion on Circus grounds piqued curiosity.
Rumoured as a future animal attraction, reference was made to a pack of performing ermine, suspected to be nothing more than costumed white rats.
Of additional interest, two identical young girls riding a miniature tandem and accompanied by an excitable little dog had been sighted circling the new structure waving strands of sapphire and silver tinsel that matched the tent's canopy.
--------------------------------------------------------
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: Quinn Underwood, Paulette Merlot and Arbuthnot Jester have all featured in previous episodes.
Your imagination and dexterity at populating this Kursaal know no bounds.
DeleteI agree with Sandra, Kursaal is always such a vivid feast for the imagination. Loved imagining the costumed white rats performing.
DeleteEarly on, when I first came to Prediction, I mentioned this series would make a good Netflix show. My observations still stand. After I finish Queen's Gambit of course.
DeleteTaken At The Flood
ReplyDeleteAloof and haughty, they arrive swaddled in exquisite furs, dripping with precious gemstones. The inviolable. The sacrosanct. Their superiority is a shield. Beyond reproach, they answer to nobody.
Still, sight of the roughly-hewn wooden platform and makeshift rigging surely strikes fear into the heart. For all their flaws (which are innumerable), this is a proud race. They are tutored in composure and sangfroid. Not a single one exhibits the slightest trepidation.
The ermine cloaks provide warmth we have never known. The clear colourless diamonds complement our eyes with a perfect match.
And after all, the blue-bloods no longer need them.
Masterful. I am in awe at your ability to bring scene after skillful, vivid scene to these pages.
DeleteA beautiful bit of prose. How to showboat in elegance.
DeleteLooking like two weeks in a row - and well deserved.
DeleteOoooh this is lovely, packed with beautiful phrasing and quite the chilling ending.
DeleteMasterful, beautiful bit of prose, beautiful phrasing... just the first three comments. Might I add entertaining to the list.
DeleteThis indeed was a treat to read, Patricia!
DeleteFrom Below
ReplyDeleteI stand in the wind, head thrown back, and palms braced against the rigging. The storm is upon us, but I cannot retreat inside, will not.
“Miss Adley!” Footsteps strike the deck. “Emersyn!”
Dashiell sounds exasperated, the aloofness from when we’d first met lost to the winds like my ermine stole. “You’ll freeze, Miss— Come inside, Emersyn.”
“We’re crossing the Barrier, aren’t we?” I glance sideways, catching his green eyes.
“We must go inside. If you fall overboard—”
A chime sounds, and the deck shudders, throwing us together. Something is rising from the water. Something large.
The stories are true.
DeleteLovely, especially the use of ermine, but also the rest of it.
I can feel a budding romance growing here, especially when he goes against his instincts and calls her by name. Nicely done. I hope we find out what is rising from the water.
DeleteI'm hoping that what is rising from the water doesn't end this romance. I do, however, have my doubts. This flows SO nicely along, Holly.
DeleteThe tension built so nicely here. Step-by-step we were drawn into the happenings with a possible hint of romance to boot. Who could ask for more?
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 133
ReplyDelete‘You’ve had inside details about SAS operations then.’ Sarg’s tone was aloof and stony.
Pink-Fairy shook his head , ‘Armi never revealed specifics; he only let me know if he was going away for a while but this time he did hint at danger to our valley.’ He smoothed his feather boa gently, as though it were finest ermine, ‘now look here Sarg, you can waste time blowing hot air through yer rigging about this or you can take it as it is and hear Atlas out: He does seems a mite uneasy, don’t you think.’
Sarg re-focused on Atlas.
Oh! that " smoothed his feather boa gently" is a wonderfully fresh and delightful image. And such lovely use of the rest of the prompts.
DeleteThat's one way to divert the heat from Armi, throw Atlas under the bus. I do enjoy Pink Fairy in these stories.
DeletePink-Fairy is always such a joy and so well-written...as they all are, really, but I just have a special fondness for Pink-Fairy.
DeleteGathering magic – 17
ReplyDeleteSnow wrapped the land in a cold cover of frozen ermine and trees standing aloof on the landscape glittered like icy rigging on the skyline.
She watched Batt shiver and draw closer to the rocks she pulled from the earth and heated with magic that evening. ‘Batt, do I have a name?’
‘I never heard him call you by one.’
‘Well I think I should have one.’
Batt smiled ‘Remember, there is great power in the naming of people. We all have two names; our given name and the secret name that gives us power.’
‘Even you Batt?’
‘Even me.’
Perfectly titled.
DeleteWhat a splendid first paragraph, Terrie. All three prompt words in a marvelously constructed series of words.
DeleteThis was a nice interaction between the two. Looking forward to some names being revealed... perhaps.
DeleteAh, Batt. So wise. So enigmatic. What a delightful little creation Batt is. Batt is male, right? Or am I just assuming I read that at some point?
DeleteThe Book From The Sea - 6
ReplyDeleteMalook woke to the noise of sea singing against the shore and, with the sound of water beckoning him, walked down to the cove below the keep.
He smiled when he saw the pale-hulled ‘Quelis’ moored in the bay for the vessel always seemed more than just a boat.
Glittering in the cold-calmed sea her ermine coloured sails, half-rolled against rigging, flapped in the breeze and her dragon figure-head curled aloofly from prow to stern as though a great blue-beast had caught the craft between its claws.
She looked as vital, fresh and new as when he was a boy.
You really are on the most wonderful roll this week Terrie; talent stretching in each and every episode.
DeleteThere were some nice nautical terms here. I love the idea of waking to the sound of the sea.
DeleteAnother amazing picture created with words. A skill at which you excel, Terrie.
DeleteSECOND THOUGHTS
ReplyDeleteThough it’s been a year since my wife Linda died, my anguish continues to grow. I wasn’t expecting this type reaction. I really wasn’t. Friends now think me aloof, but it’s just that I’ve turned inward for solace. I thought adopting new interests would speed adjustment. Not so. New clothes – fresh rigging for these old sails, so to speak – didn’t help, nor did a couple of reckless flings with broads who expected ermine coats in return for their favors.
Yeah… despite your flaws and the headaches you caused, I miss you.
Damn it, Linda! I believe I regret killing you.
A great confessional story, Jim. I'm not sure if a reckless fling would be worth the price of a fur coat, but then we all don't go around murdering our spouses.
DeleteI think it's called a conscience, Jim ...
DeleteWhat a "killer" of a last line. Really though, I loved the flow of this and the sentiments that went with it.
DeleteAh the follies and regrets of the psychopath. No wait...
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 132
ReplyDelete‘We’re not soddin’ S.A.S y’know,’ puffed Clancy, spattering ermine-coloured spittle on his paws as he ran.
Feeling the midday heat at his back, Nigel relented and slowed the pace a little. ‘Tell ’em t’ give up the booze. We need their expertise if we’re to succeed - after all you fellas’ built the damn contraption. We’ve no idea how that bluddy rigging is attached or how you aim to use it.’
Clancy’s muttered reply was crossly aloof, ‘rocks or soldiers, or both if I get my way.’ He grumbled cryptically.
Nigel grinned and picked up the pace again.
Yet more wonderful exchanges between these fascinating creatures. How did we survive pre-dillo?
DeleteNigel ... a name rarely applied to a pleasant personality, as you have vividly illustrated here.
Deleteoh oh, will the dillos survive this forced march? Looks like they're struggling but then again, booze? What do dillos drink?
DeleteI'm dying to see this contraption in use. Nice one, Terrie.
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 253 - The Passage Of Time
ReplyDeleteBillows of white smoke, a drifting mantle of ethereal ermine, enveloped Cripplegate causing the Junction itself to become an entity aloof from its surrounding area. The Sanitarium, now an insubstantial rigging of masonry and metal, slowly faded to obscurity. The adjoining garden little more than a vanishing patch of wilted weeds and crumbling statuary.
On the track, George turned to face the oncoming train. The Station Master and Violet looked on, curious but detached from events, while the Conductor contemplated a desperate leap for the platform of the caboose before it was all too late.
Time was ticking fast.
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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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Now is NOT the time to leave George stood centre track as the train approaches, Patricia!!!
DeleteUnfair! I am stuck with the image of George in the white mist waiting for the train to - whatever it will do, and the Conductor being sensible but will we know before New Year the outcome of this alarming scene???
DeleteHow do you make Cripplegate even more ominous? Why, encase it in billows ethereal ermine white smoke of course.
DeleteThe train, now moving, is confusing everything. Time really is ticking fast.
The Joys of Mediumship 36
ReplyDeleteStanding aloof creates a chance to look critically at the damage. Whilst the Prince swirls an ermine lined gold trimmed cloak, I look at the damaged rigging on a model Chinese junk, ruined by the force of the water. The devastation still bothers me. In an effort to get things moving, I asked for help and was given the task of ‘humanising’ the insurance assessor, chat by email, send him a copy of the Victorian Strollers’ visit, offer a freebie copy of the book about the first five years… it seems to have worked, he’s promised to expedite the claim.
Getting insurance expedited by any means is a triumph in itself. Seems you managed to get some very valuable advice in that quarter, Antonia.
DeleteThe power of well-writ history. Best of luck with keeping him sweet, Antonia.
DeleteWhatever it takes to keep the ball rolling. Insurance adjusters often work at their own pace. Glad you could influence this one.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (129)
ReplyDeleteUncleaned windows, piles of damaged items, door that doesn’t shut properly, we must seem rather aloof to the locals but the mould spores are still there and we worry about people’s health. I still mourn the toys, dolls with skin the colour of ermine, the broken rigging on ships, I have to stand back and concentrate on the future. We are ready to clear the shop floor, we have progressed that far and feeling good when the third lockdown rises bleakly on the horizon… but we, like so many, are helpless in the face of mutant viruses and thoughtless people.
I heard about a possible further lockdown. Things aren't progressing much better over here, I must be honest. What a lovely thought...dolls with skin the colour of ermine.
DeleteI inherited a doll with a porcelain (I think) head. Something better-class and fragile. I still remember how sick I felt when she toppled off a chair and smashed her face ...
DeleteSad indeed, but we should all bear in mind that this is not the only virus to mutate and require vaccines to follow. That is the dynamic behind a new flu vaccine each year. Viruses adapt to the bodies they infest, and to each organ therein, so - in a very real way - they mutate all the time.
DeleteSo sad, but one way to look at it is once the floor is cleared, it will kind of be a clean slate...
DeleteThe Mad Italian (188)
ReplyDeleteIt would almost seem someone is rigging the votes, the decisions, the lacklustre delivery of bad news as if they were indifferent to the hardships and illness caused by Those In Power standing aloof from the ‘ordinary’ people whilst thinking of the ermine they will wear when finally promoted to the upper chamber… for the decisions seem extraordinarily wide of the target, the submission and eradication of the virus. That will not happen while others dither and delay over major decisions. But can this be changed? I think not. Each person involved has their own agenda, as ever it was.
The Mad Italian is a lot saner than the supposedly fumble-fingered governments. The agendas could well be seen as having nothing to do with public welfare.
DeleteYes, those dang agendas. It's supposed to be the agenda of the people, but that doesn't always happen.
DeleteOur esteemed Italian is on the button with each person having their own agenda. Has it always been that way? I guess it has, disheartening as that might be.
ReplyDeleteHAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE...!!!!!
ReplyDeletePIRATE
ReplyDeleteUncharacteristically, Thomas had taken the lead as they gathered all the youngest together in the old double-decker bus they used as an emergency shelter for the vulnerable.
He’d launched into an old Sinbad tale in the style of Douglas Fairbanks Junior, using the high seat-backs as the bow sprit with the leather grab handles and safety rails as rigging.
Joanie smiled at the dwindling ermine chest hairs revealed by his in-character unbuttoning of his shirt but was impressed at the aged spryness with which he swung himself aloof as he regaled the rapt children with tales of monsters and treasure.
Very seasonal in its peace and goodwill.
DeleteBest of the season to you, and all other participants.
And to you and yours, Sandra - and all the wonderful writers here - a very Merry Christmas and may others enjoy their Samhain, Pancha Ganapati, Hanukah, Solstice, Saturnalia, Kwanzaa, Chaharshanbeh Suri, Yalda, Yule, Kolada etc. as we celebrate the birth of He who taught us the warmth of brotherhood.
DeleteNice, Perry. Very emjoyable. What a great cause Thomas has undertaken. Keep the young minds occupied in times of trouble.
Deletethat's a lovely little piece, Perry, thanks for that
ReplyDeleteENJOY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIENDS!!