Which I dare say it will be, at least a couple of times tonight. So I've started judging early (but will, as ever, check for later arrivals before making a final choice) from what I thought was a tricky set of disparate words, but which didn't faze many of you for long. As so often, I've discarded the idea of naming a shortlist, recognising its a cop-out for me, and chosen this week's winner on the basis of the shout of laughter reading it generated: John's 'Holiday sentiment', but, as ever was entertained and impressed with the rest.
new words for the coming week are: embarrass
miracle reed
Entries by midnight Thursday 7th January, new words posted Friday 8th
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.
Great job, John. Well-deserved win to finish out the year.
ReplyDeletecertainly one of your best stories, John!
DeleteCongrats, John!
DeleteOn Wicken Fen
ReplyDeleteThe reeds shimmered and beyond them the waters rippled.
I crouched low in the cold mud, holding my breath. I’m not embarrassed to say that I was terrified. If by some miracle I survived I vowed I would recount every moment.
But the promise proved futile.
The dreadful shadow of the windmill’s lethargic sails came creeping over me, chilling my bones like frost on a winter lawn. In paralysis I saw slithers of oddly diffused light flicker between the reed stems. Little comatose birds floated limply on oily waters.
And all my moments were lost till they found me there.
Excellent bit of atmosphere - as morose as an extended lockdown, but a lot more artfully entertaining.
DeleteWonderfully captures the atmosphere, and the creeping shadowed windmill sails gloriously heightens the menace.
DeleteGreat story, David. The perilous situation is well represented and exemplified by the windmill blades and floating birds.
DeleteAtmospheric indeed and very visual. Diffused flickering light is always deliciously threatening.
Deletea sense of doom hangs over this and cannot be avoided. Beautiful atmospherics.
DeleteA wonderfully atmospheric and creepy piece. Loved the description of the windmill's shadow and the flickers of light.
DeleteMalcontented
ReplyDeleteIt’s miraculous something as small as a reed can be so important, to the oboist.
Or maybe it’s not a miracle. Perhaps that’s overblowing. Yes, that’s definitely over the top. Who gives a dang about oboes and reeds?
Well, some do, I know. A symphony member, perhaps. But the general population has more on their plates at the moment. I know I do. So, permit me the embarrassment of bringing it up. It’s my error for crying out loud. Who are you to judge me?
Crimony, some people are so sensitive. Can’t we all just get along?
Ha ha - you have my symphonies. With that, I'll wind up my feedback. :D
DeleteNot when it comes to hobbies, John - no forgiveness there.
DeleteI've said it before and I'll say it again....you never fail to entertain and amaze, John. You have a very unique style.
Deleteabsolutely agree with Patricia 100% - this is a clever twisted piece for sure.
DeleteAll of us get along, John? Where's the fun in that?
DeleteI never could choose a reed instrument. It does require constant care. :)
DeleteCAREFUL
ReplyDeleteThe katana strapped to Mary’s back had once been an embarrassingly blunt ornament. She’d upgraded it as she taught herself blacksmithing from an old Bealer book.
“That’d be the sort of book he took with him.”
“What?” Declan’s voice startled her enough to miss a rung.
She hugged the uprights tight, bringing her breathing under control.
First rule with ladders in pitch black, she admonished herself, bloody well concentrate.
“The end of The Time Machine movie.”
By some miracle he knew which one. “Oh.”
The sudden stink of burnt hair heralded the shrill sweet clarion of the ‘all clear’ reeds.
Out of this world, in a way, but now firmly in my head, especially those ladder rings.
DeleteNothing like burnt hair to get one back on track. I enjoyed the self taught blacksmithing bit.
DeleteConcentration is definitely key when dealing with ladders in pitch black situations. I found the exchange of dialogue particularly enjoyable.
Deleteclever one, atmosphere (creepy) dialogue (normal but how do you define normal in this situation... wrapped together in one tasty nugget of How T Write a short piece...
DeleteLoved the description of the katana on Mary's back and the heart-thumping ascent (descent?) in the darkness.
DeleteANTICLIMAX
ReplyDeleteMary and Declan stared at each other beside an expanse of rat bodies.
“All clear my arse.”
Declan’s eyes wandered inappropriately as she bent to pick up a bit of reed woven into a wreath just big enough for rodent headwear.
The Tide actually roared.
“Miracle most of them got electrocuted in this.” She kicked at chicken-wire just under the surface dirt. “I could only manage twenty of those who got through.”
“Twenty one,” Declan said, nudging the last of his victims with his boot.
Mary glared and pulled at the half-buried mesh.
“Not that I’m boasting,” he muttered embarrassedly.
Dialogue keeps this hurtling along. Good stuff, Perry.
DeleteI enjoyed the inappropriate glance as Mary bent over. Something brewing here?
DeleteAnd even more enjoyable dialogue. I was rather fond of "All clear my arse." So glad you didn't use "ass." The British version is so much more impactful.
Deletea nasty twisted horror tale!
DeleteDICK
ReplyDelete“You can see that some were retreating when the trap got them.”
Finbar had ambled up behind them unnoticed.
Those who had rushed to battle only to be met with a favourable massacre, were now beating the reeds for any survivors.
“Trap?”
“What was with the scream?” Declan asked, noting the dangerous tenor of Mary’s voice.
Finbar looked embarrassed. “Bloody big spider under one of the batteries took a lepp at me.”
Mary increased the intensity of her glare … and tone.
“I said ‘Trap?’”
“Oh yeah, I programmed the blackout. Sooo … less miracle–”
Mary kicked him … HARD.
Superb triple entry.
DeleteBig spiders can be pretty intimidating, whether they jump or not. Cool trio, Perry.
DeleteThe previous two installments were thoroughly enjoyable but this one was a true gem. So much to appreciate...and I'm with Finbar on the spider issue.
Deleteme too. I had a book of horror stories here one time. It had a spoider on the front. So I turned it over, to find an identical one on the back... and really, after all the other horrors, Finbar shouldn't have minded so much, which shows the power of the multi legged multi eyed monsters...
DeleteNot a fan of spiders so I understand Finbar's reaction. :) Loved Mary's reactions and 'Mary increased the intensity of her glare … and tone.'
DeleteBy Ear
ReplyDeleteWithin a family of gifted musicians, I am considered, at best, an embarrassment. I'd once hoped for a miracle, but not any more. I am provided both single reed and double reed instruments to play. They applaud my efforts but with sarcastic sneers upon mocking faces. They exchange snickers and smirks. I am merely a source of inferior entertainment.
It's not easy being the only deaf mute among kinsfolk who are all virtuosos.
Roll over Beethoven. Nice airy story.
DeleteSo true!!
DeleteSuch a sad story, I feel kind of bad to laugh, but it is pretty humorous.
Deletesad and humorous, how clever is that?
DeleteDoesn't sound like a nice family to be part of. I wonder why the narrator continues to play?
DeleteIf At First...
ReplyDeleteBy some miracle, she still lives. Her voice, thin and reedy, lectures me from behind the sheetrock. It's embarrassing, she says, that I can't even carry out murder with any proficiency.
Tonight, I will tear down the wall and try again.
Ah - ow you're just showing off, Patricia. Lovely bit of terseness.
DeletePerry's 'terse' is perfect. As is the incisiveness of this.
DeleteShe does tend to show off, Perry. Makes me jealous. It's those final lines, and a bit of really good writing.
Deletesuch crisp visuals here it's enough to make me give up writing fiction...
DeleteShort and masterful!
DeleteJe suis desolé
ReplyDeleteBecause I summoned a miracle with a simple childhood trick – a reed taut between my thumbs over which I blew until its vibrations brought forth the ululating shriek beloved of banshees and the like, he was embarrassed.
Chastised me for my lack of thought.
When, in truth, it was he who was shown up. The sudden startling noise shrivelling his about-to-piss prick to something resembling an acorn.
LOL - well, not much one can say to that/
DeleteDang, Sandra. You've captured every man's nightmare of being exposed in a way less than flattering moment when it comes to ones manhood.
DeleteThis defies commentary. It's creative and intriguing. How you come up with these spectacular scenarios is a total mystery to me.
DeleteWow, Sandra, a true passion killer story!
DeleteLoved your description of the shrill sound of the reed - 'brought forth the ululating shriek beloved of banshees and the like.'
DeleteChange of focus [407]
ReplyDeleteBy the smallest of miracles Aleks, nearest the sitting-room door, was first to rise and go into the kitchen, thus preventing Salley Vicksen's further uninvited incursion and saving Pettinger's further embarrassment. Not that Aleks was impelled so much by intention to conceal as his desire to share with her his recent discovery of Lou Reed's 'Sally Can't Dance'.
By the time Pettinger emerged, smiling and non-disheveled, closing the kitchen door behind him, YouTube was playing loud enough to mask the sound of Philly Stepcart's availing herself of a soothing bath.
Pity was, Aleks hadn't thought to hide the bloody tea-towels.
Bloody towels are hard to explain and impossible to ignore. Nice one, Sandra.
DeleteAleks can't be expected to think of everything. Given his age, I think he does a damn proficient job.
Delete"smallest of miracles" - Gee, talk about rubbing something in. LOL.
DeleteI would have thought bloody tea towels were not that easy to miss, being bright red and all, but there you go...
DeleteHigh-speed briefing [Threshold 331]
ReplyDeleteUnembarrassed by his confusion (like most men, Raven had a near-miraculous belief in the short-term capacity of the female memory, and assumed I thought him omnipotent) he retrieved what he knew of this reed-tendoned, leathery simulacrum of a once-ruler and whispered a potted history as the trio drew nearer.
'No sons, no, but daughters. Each of whom married into a family eager to propel their first-born to a position of power. Births and bloodshed, would-be silent assassinations and battles roaring revenge. It's a miracle he's survived –'
''So who's allowed him to live, if living's what he's doing, until now?'
Superb writing skills here. I'm so curious to understand the 'to propel the first born to a position of power' line. Is it just part of the whispered history or does it refer to Raven as being in the position of power?
DeleteJohn, the first-borns are the men the daughters married. Not sure at the moment how much power Raven has (if any) ...
DeleteRaven is quite possibly one of the most enigmatic characters to be found within this forum. I'm never sure how much he truly knows or how much he's willing to reveal.
Deletethis has turned even more intriguing, with these outrageous and unscrupulous characters adding to the mysteries week by week,
DeleteEven if the thread of the last episodes are not retained, the quality of writing sucks us in as any full length novel would - the essence of excellent writing.
DeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Twenty Three) - Desperate Times...
ReplyDeleteChief Constable Basil Twittering of the local constabulary was an embarrassment to his profession. The fact he'd located none of the missing persons was a mortifying state of affairs. He was constantly looking and never finding. What a disgrace!
Twittering was hoping for a miracle to salvage his reputation. A clue in the reeds of nearby streams, perhaps, or buried within the undergrowth of wooded areas. A tip-off from somebody in the know would be nice, but admittedly unlikely.
So, when Twittering spotted Lenny Jester snooping around Lucy Pepperdyne's gravesite, he believed his luck has taken a most fortuitous turn.
--------------------------------------------------------
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: Chief Constable Basil Twittering and Lenny Jester, as well as Lucy Pepperdyne, have all featured in previous episodes.
I always enjoy Twittering's appearances. Luckily for the continued mysterious antics of Kursaal ongoings, it's a good thing the constable is inept.
DeleteI trust he'll be no more successful this time.
Deleteproblem... when I read the Kursaal instalments, I like them best, then you post a Cripplegate and ...
DeleteThere's not really a burning desire to be a good policeman, he's half embarssed by it but on the other hand, welcomes it as he doesn't really have to work... like most of the Kursaal people, he'll get away with everything if he can...
Ah he's not the only one. I'll help him beat those reeds and informants if needs be.
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship 38
ReplyDeleteThere’s a lovely little song, Glory Road, which for some reason refuses to leave the juke box, the miraculous bit of us which finds songs to loop through our minds. It’s a delicate song, miraculous to think until Scott Walker came, I didn’t know it existed. I can’t embarrass myself by admitting this, he knows already… sometimes he pretends to be a broken reed, still despairing he could not create all he wanted but life’s like that. We don’t get all we want. Just sometimes us mediums get what we want, I have loved this man forever.
I remember Scott Walker more as a member of the Walker Brothers. But I vividly recall the song "Jackie," which I believe was a solo effort. What a fascinating and varied cast of characters you do associate with, Antonia.
DeleteI looked up Glory Road. Good song. Neil Diamond does it well too.
DeleteI agree with John. Neil Diamond's version of Glory Road is great, as is this entry, Antonia.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (131)
ReplyDeleteCold, so cold the windows stopped streaming condensation!! A small miracle, have to remember we can now be seen, that could be embarrassing if we forget. Still clearing the broken pieces of a very thin very elegant vase which, with a few slender reeds, looked superb… why does the good stuff get broken? Lockdown has now intervened, the way life does, getting people to do things will be difficult when it’s the law you can’t travel… I think everything is on hold for the next six weeks’ minimum.
"Everything is on hold" - yup, that's about it.
DeleteI believe the hold on travel is what bothers me most. I do so love to take my little trips...or longer ones. Maybe again one day. Sorry to hear about that vase. Sounds like it was a lovely item.
DeleteBeing on hold is such a sad thing in our lives. Who could have thought? The condensation ob the windows is a telling effect of the recent water damage.
DeleteThe Mad Italian (189)
ReplyDeleteIt will be a miracle the day I come here with smiles and hallelujahs but it is not yet. To do so now would make an embarrassment of the many who suffer still and who will remain like broken reeds when the virus departs, leaving a mass of damaged and dying flesh. I say it as it is, in the hope the Universe prevails upon mankind as a whole to do their part in defending themselves from the intruder, not consider the work to be done when the symptoms disappear. It will not be that easy to dismiss the invader.
I'd love to hear Leonardo's take on the current fiasco taking place over here in DC today (January 6th). America's Happy New Year message to the world...!!!
DeleteThis tiny invader will not be dismissed for some time. I'm with the Italian on looking forward to the day.
DeleteSink or Swim
ReplyDeleteI watch, mortified, as Nuarthan walks past my hiding place on the dry ground above. By some miracle, he doesn't find my footprints. Some tracker you are. Waist-deep in icy water, flaming face shielded by reeds, I release my held breath as he leaves. My embarrassment, blessedly, shall be witnessed only by the frogs.
I climb out of the water, begin to wring my dripping hair when—
"There you are, Princess. Fancied a swim?"
I gasp and spin. It's Nuarthan, damn him. "I won't go back."
"I know." He offers his hand, black eyes glittering. "I'm here to help."
So smooth the use of the prompts and, as ever an enticing episode of something we ever seem to find again.
DeleteYou just come up with one innovative idea after the next. Even though Nuarthan says "I know," I think she's going back.
DeleteHelp from Nuarthan? I don't think so. Wonderful opening paragraph, Holly!
Deletesmoothly done, seamless prompts and lots of 'what if-'
DeleteOooohhhh...can this offer of help be trusted? Hopefully we won't have to wait too long to find out.
DeleteTODAY’S COMMAND
ReplyDeleteWith three reeds pushed through my cheeks and three bronze rings in my lower lip, I’m sure I am an embarrassment to all who know me.
I do not care, for I no longer know them.
My mother spends most of her day on her knees praying to her god for a miracle that would return me to “normalcy.”
I do not care, for the god she appeals to is not my god.
My god is Montu, the Egyptian god of war. It is his commands I listen to. Today he has commanded me to kill.
Say your prayers, mother.
If that last statement isn't an ominous one, then I don't know what would qualify. Those "adornment" descriptions certainly gave me the willies.
DeleteI have to admit, if I had a mother who prayed to some god for me to behave I'd be inclined to have a less than civilised reaction. Thought provoking, this, Jim
DeletePerhaps mother should ask her son for mercy rather than praying for it. Either way though, I think she'll die.
DeleteVery curious how he 'met' Montu. I can't imagine good things are coming for anyone nearby.
Deletewow, making a stand - or what? Nastiness personified, calling down war on his own mother!!
ReplyDeletethrowing in a comment, letter from my 97 year old friend...
ReplyDeletelockdown, pandemic, forget it. The worst words you can hear are
War Is Declared.