Writing that is. On the way to writing this I wandered onto my Blurb site and checked profits on sales of my books over the past several years. An astounding £9.60. Just as well it's more important to me that I keep my brain ticking over.
And ticking brains a-plenty this week contributing here, but not so difficult a choice, because the pleasure received from each episode of Holly's current has been considerable so it's only right that episode number five earns top place.
New words for the coming week are: album shingle undiscovered
Entries by midnight Thursday 11th February, new words posted Friday 12th
Usual rules: 100 words maximum (excluding title) of flash fiction or poetry using all 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.
Desperation [6]
ReplyDelete“No,” the Shadow Queen says. She is facing away from us by a still pool of pitch-dark water.
I slip on the silvery shingle beneath my feet, and it cracks like glass. “But Mireya said you’d help me!”
The queen turns, the black of her eyes extending from edge to edge. “If you were an Undiscovered, but I see no power in you.” She looks at the large album in her hands and deliberately turns a page.
I clench my fists, desperation hardening inside me. “I’ll do anything.”
Nuarthan sighs angrily. “At least attempt to negotiate, Silvana.”
Majestically arcane. I am constantly surprised and pleased by the expanse of stories three little words can unleash - that reality at least as magical as the stories themselves.
DeleteSuch sharp-edged clarity in your writing, but I cannot see how the hell you do it!!
Delete"I'll do anything" is always such a risky statement. I have the feeling that Nuarthan might well step in to do something about this situation. You have such a knack for drawing us into the story immediately, Holly.
DeleteSuch richness in your writing, Holly. Very enjoyable.
Deletevivid, rich and real surreal world. Wonderful writing.
DeleteGUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER
ReplyDeleteWho was she that the wind feared her: this previously undiscovered Joan D’Arc?
Life was devoid - a hell. Government clampdowns had siphoned its vitality. Yet no-one rebelled to drag the elite towards town-square guillotines, as did their less complacent and ignorant nineteenth century counterparts.
Instead they pointed fingers at the protesting generations: flicked verbal shingles at “The Woken” and depleted swarms of bumblebee humanitarians.
They cowered in their homes as never during a montage of bombings.
Then she strolled through a ferocious squall of fluttering masks and albums of paparazzi to batter at Number 10.
“It’s Greta,” the doorman groaned.
A visually striking piece. Loved the imagery of 'she strolled through a ferocious squall of fluttering masks.'
Delete"bumblebee humanitarians" - worth the price of entry on its own!
Delete"Number 10"...a reference to Downing Street no doubt. This was a beautiful blend of ancient and modern. And I loved the title.
DeleteGreta is a real firecracker it seems. Lots of cleverness here.
Deletethe imagery is superbly drawn here, Perry, one of the reasons it will be a while yet before I attempt fiction!
DeleteVery nicely done, Holly. Your writing always inspires me to try and do better.
ReplyDeleteSanctum
ReplyDeleteThe room resembles a Wendy House. Ceiling painted like a red shingled roof and little front door (although it doesn't actually go anywhere or even open). Lots of undiscovered areas. Calm and tranquil locations with hidden items to stimulate the imagination, but in a safe and sound manner.
Several photo albums sit on a yellow plastic table surrounded by four matching chairs. The snapshots within capture gleeful moments in the life of a child. Park with ducks. Merry-go-round horse with silky mane and tail. Kite flying high in the wind.
The walls, of course, are padded.
Can't be too careful.
Fascinated by the door that leads to nowhere, and the last two lines twist the tone of the story in such a wonderfully menacing (and sad) way.
DeleteOh what a wry twist. This delightfully hypnotic piece recalled for me the introduction of a TV program from Neil Innes - where an astronaut is examining a derelict house full of such mementos. That in turn conjures a notion of someone visiting our homes post Covid. Shivers.
DeleteNightmare, from the door that doesn't open, but even so, I wasn't prepared for the final line. You catch me every time Patricia!
DeleteI'll too join in and phrase the door to nowhere. A magnificent narrative with classic Patriciaisms.
Deleteall the elements of a nostalgic piece which turns on its head in he last line. we ought to be used to Patricia's skills by now but they still catch me out, and probably others, too!
DeleteUnder the shingle-shale eaves of the attic, tossed atop the great oak beam, the album lay undiscovered for years and, when she found it, the metal and leather catch holding it closed was fused with dust and rust.
ReplyDeleteCarefully, she pried open the clasp and a bone-handled knife fell out onto the floor. A thin plume of grey smoke curled out behind it and spiralled up her nose.
As her pupils dilated, her body rippled and bent with the liquidity of water then she smiled and picking up the knife growled in a guttural voice, not her own, ‘about time.’
Oooh, nothing good will come of this! Loved the imagery of 'her body rippled and bent with the liquidity of water.'
DeleteLeather Apron is released. Den den dah!! A great piece.
DeleteThe contrast between "body rippled and bent with the liquidity of water" and growl more than doubles the power of this.
DeleteYou and I came close to duplicate plots this week, Terrie. I like yours better.
DeleteI too was toying with a similar plot for a while, Terrie, but couldn't make it work. Glad I didn't pursue it now. It would have paled horribly in comparison.
DeleteWhen you decide to write horror, Terrie, you do it so well.
Deleteclever imagery to build a vision in our minds, then throw it out with that 'growled; - it;s a week of class horror writing and vivid imagery - again.
DeleteArachnid Spring
ReplyDeleteOn the shingle beach at Eastbourne I found a photo album, undiscovered for some time, pages flapping in the wind. Family snaps of the way things were - weddings, birthdays, Christmases.
The seafront hotels were draped in the candy floss gossamer of intricately spun webs.
Young hatchling spiders the size of dogs scurried on the promenade, feeding on the discarded husks of cadavers. The bloated adults watched in monstrously sated lethargy.
Repelled by the brine they would not venture to the shore. Nevertheless, I did not tarry. Cocking my rifle I resumed my increasingly fruitless quest along the coastline.
Not spiders! I'm going to go hide now, but I do love the imagery of 'The seafront hotels were draped in the candy floss gossamer of intricately spun webs.' Gorgeous... and terrifying. :)
DeleteUrk! Very reminiscent of one of HG Wells short stories, but he had cephaloids coming from the sea. I immediately thought of the tiny arachnid scorpions along Dublin dock walls.
DeleteSeeing the title, I had to read with eyes averted. Not liking the idea of rifles being necessary defence,
DeleteYour second paragraph is a thing of beauty, David. Wonderful writing!
DeleteShivers galore accompanied this one. Magnificent imagery and lovely lesson in dogged determination there at the end. "Spiders the size of dogs"...if that isn't the stuff of nightmares, then I don't know what it.
DeleteFamily snaps of the way things were. That little sentence told quite a bit. Very nice, David.
DeleteI want to say I like this' but your story is being read by another arachnophobic being...
DeleteOne born every minute, 2
ReplyDeleteJohnson held the recently undiscovered Beatles album in his hand.
“This is going to be big,” he said.
“I didn’t realize McCartney was black,” Courtney said. “Where did you find it.”
“This drifter was selling them out of his Ferrari.”
“How much did you pay?” Courtney said, a pained expression on her face.
“Only fifty bucks. He didn’t look good though, the drifter. Is Shingles contagious?”
Courtney stepped back. “I think so, yes.”
“Oh well, after I sell this baby, I can afford the cure.”
“Hang onto that thought, Johnson.” Courtney walked away, shaking her head.
LOL. Loved it. Gonna be a puzzle to explain the Ivory bit in Ebony and Ivory.
DeleteHmmm... might have been a reversed-out photo of Paul. Your creative mind is once again on display, John!
DeleteA black McCartney. LOL. Still, it was rumoured that he was killed back in the day (Ã la the "Day In The Life" reference) and replaced by a look-alike, so...who knows? As always, John, you unique creative signature shines.
Delete"You" should, of course, read "Your."
DeleteSheesh....!!!!!
ha! the Ferarri should be getting a bit empty by now but there are always more people waiting to be taken in...
DeleteSounds like the drifter has room for more than hats! Curious what he'll be selling next.
DeleteI had a feeling on this one, Holly.
ReplyDeletePerpetuity
ReplyDeleteThe victory albums were buried at the end of the Last Great Conflict. They remain undiscovered somewhere deep beneath the shingle and shale of Infinity Beach. Inaccessible. Inviolable.
We will never know who won.
Very compact. Almost a cobla - but with a wealth of a story.
Delete"the shingle and shale of Infinity Beach" Such poetry!
DeleteThe last great conflict. I hope it doesn't come to that. I'd love to be inside your head and see what goes on up there. Or maybe not...
Deleteanother WOW story, Patricia!
DeleteA fascinating and tight story, but now I really want to know who won! :) Loved the description of 'deep beneath the shingle and shale of Infinity Beach.'
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 256 - Every Picture...
ReplyDeleteFrom his carriage, Clive Bailey watched the Sanitarium continue its crumble into obscurity with fractured roof shingles and splintered framework. He wondered if any undiscovered secrets were melding with the masonry. It seemed likely but nothing would remain now.
Window panes shattered, tossing photographs from dozens of fragmented albums to the breeze like spent Autumn leaves. One picture...a black-and-white image...hitched a ride upon a swirling gust of wind and slipped easily through a crack in the door of Clive's compartment. He retrieved it with trembling fingers.
A young lad, smiling for the camera, played with his toy train set.
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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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Beautifully descriptive vignette of a violent moment.
DeleteHauntingly visual.
Delete(What a week we're having here!!)
Such clear, vivid, exquisitely chosen groups of words carry us through this fine entry, Patricia.
DeleteIn answer to Clive's wondering if ay undiscovered secrets lie in the crumbling Sanitarium, the answer is yes. This series is so good, Patricia. I hate to see it winding down. At least it seems to be winding down and I won't miss the Sanitarium at all, but I will miss this story.
Deletethere's a delicacy to this which is hard to nail down but it's here and it's invasive
DeleteI always enjoy your phrasing, especially the imagery of 'Window panes shattered, tossing photographs from dozens of fragmented albums to the breeze like spent Autumn leaves.'
DeleteTHEY CALLED HER UNA
ReplyDeleteThe narrative to the landscape of Dooney’s imagination used a more extensive vocabulary than he himself possessed – or so he imagined. Furthermore, it spoke like a fifties private eye.
“The Case of the Undiscovered Unicorn reminded him of cheap toilet roll. Where to begin?
The only clues were in the mumblings of an infant: Horny horse, horny horse.
The officer hadn’t seen the soft toy when she’d found Una in the devastation once home to them all, but later searches of the crystalline shingle had uncovered a small photo album with pictures of Una hugging it amid a smiling family.”
Confused, but fascinated.
DeleteThe feral child from Dooney's imaginative viewpoint.
DeleteI wonder what secrets are hiding in the horny horse?
DeleteIs there anything more heartwarming than the photo of a child hugging her favourite plushie? This is very intriguing and I do hope we're treated with more.
DeleteI never put together the possibility of calling a unicorn a horny horse. Now I have and I like it. Very creative, Perry.
Deletesecrets, always a good thing to have central in a story but we're favoured, there;'s more to this story than just secrets.
DeleteSad to imagine Una alone among the rubble, and whatever she must have witnessed. Love the imagery of 'crystalline shingle.'
DeleteMoment of lightness [Threshold 335]
ReplyDeleteRaven's face shed years. I glimpsed boyhood; something I believed he hardly knew. Was proved correct when he said, 'I'd only've been about eight when I found them –'
'Found what?'
'Sticker albums. I guessed my grandfather's. Boxed up, on a bottom shelf of what was called a library. By the dust, undiscovered for years –'
'Sticker albums?'
'Little cards, with pictures on different themes. Footballers and films. These,' he gestured to the now-halted acolytes, 'modelled on some crappy sci-fi film.'
He laughed, remembering. 'I was recovering from shingles, appreciated low-level diversion, but now –' looking up, 'am less amused.'
Ah, the charm of a melancholia and cynicism cocktail. And here you've reaching into MY past with the albums of collectibles. Sigh.
Delete"Raven's face shed tears. I glimpsed boyhood;' What a great choice of language to get this entertaining tale off and running!
DeleteYet another fascinating glimpse into the complex character of Raven. This time, we are given a glimpse of his boyhood days. Hard to believe this serialization is now at its 335th installment. How do you maintain the magic, Sandra?
DeleteI knew these acolytes were going to be trouble. I wish Freud were here to interpret the possible reliving of events (or sticker cards) of Raven's boyhood. Or maybe, if I'm patient, you will tell us...
Deleteboyhood, an evocative and ihtriguing word for Raven, who is an inriguing being. More story please.
DeleteI also loved the beginning line 'Raven's face shed years. I glimpsed boyhood; something I believed he hardly knew.' It's always fascinating what brings up old memories.
DeleteChange of focus [412]
ReplyDeleteA shiver quivered upward along Pettinger's spine, like that felt at the first touch of clippers, shingling winter-grown hair, in preparation for a summer that might not come. More likely his conscience barbed-wire twitching in response to Sally's all-too-evident aspirations, but, like music, you couldn't make yourself appreciate what didn't appeal.
He found himself picturing album covers – his parents' wholesome Doris Day versus his then lust for Courtney Love; opera and its attendant rich delights undiscovered for far too long.
Whereas Philly … much to yet discover, but he still very far from sure he ought to even try.
Great first line. I remember the first touch of a barber and those clippers which looked like they shouldn't be near a human head. And Doris Day... how she will be missed. Don't see Courtney Love ever amassing that sort of regard.
DeleteAnother superb installment. So, Pettinger once had the hots for Courtney Love, huh? Okay. To each his own. I won't judge. I note the "then lust." Seems he got over it.
DeleteCourtney Love? Well, maybe a one time thing, in her day. One thing about Pettinger, he often wonders whether he should be with a certain woman, but he usually succumbs.
DeletePettinger is a complex character but at times he seems almost transparent with his wants and needs...
DeleteEnjoyed the imagery (and feeling) of 'the first touch of clippers.' I'll also have to say his parents had good taste with Doris Day. :)
DeleteLOOKING BACK
ReplyDeleteI found the album while searching the attic of a long-abandoned insane asylum. Covered with grime, it no doubt had lain undiscovered for years.
Curious, I sat upon a stack of roof shingles and opened it. My flashlight revealed that each page held a single black-and-white photo of a somber-looking person staring outward with dull, lifeless eyes.
The last page was blank… for a time. But gradually a photo began to materialize, and as it did I grew faint and slowly faded into darkness.
When I came to, I was lifelessly staring outward from the photo on the last page.
Ooohh....Twilight Zone and/or Outer Limits or the more modern Black Mirror. This would have fit so nicely into any one of them. Beautifully descriptive wording that gave us the perfect visual...um, if you'll excuse the pun!
DeleteExploring the attic of an abandoned insane society, alone, with a flashlight. Who would have thought something bad could happen? But, if it had gone off without a hitch, we wouldn't have been treated to this, Jim. Very nicely done.
DeleteI confess, when I put up the shingle prompt I'd completely forgotten it referred to roof tiles - an extra, unexpected dimension to this week's reading.
Deleteonce again, a diverse and fascinating selection of stories from three very random words. I like this one, Jim.
DeleteI think the lesson here is to stay away from abandoned insane asylums! :) Enjoyed the chill following 'The last page was blank… for a time.'
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship no 41
ReplyDeleteThe Politicians book is almost done. I was looking at closure when yet another name was called, Charles De Gaulle, who then managed to get Charles into every conversation with other visitors, to let me know he was there…like an album on repeat… are there undiscovered gems in the chatter? When I reread messages, I see more than I did when writing it, and sometimes I believe the truth has shifted a little, like shingle walked on but the messages are theirs to change as they wish. I just do the typing… and marvel at the words they give me..
And how marvellous those words prove to be, Antonia. Do you ever see anything later that you simply don't recall at all?
Delete"has shifted a little, like shingle walked on" what a wonderful metaphor! (wish my conscience would let me pinch it)
Deleteyes, Patricia, sometimes the message is rattled off at a great speed and I have no time to absorb it. When I go back over it I am surprised by the depth of the thinking.
DeleteLove the phrasing of 'I believe the truth has shifted a little, like shingle walked on.'
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (136)
ReplyDeleteToday the Landlord said he would bring more stock for us to sell, could be undiscovered gems, like a rare album. One sold for £30,000 – how did we miss that??? Realistically… someone has to find these gems… but we never even find gems in the shingle of Ryde beach, so… we wait for the lockdown to end, so we can go do things again. Like, have fun in our shop, drink coffee and talk to people. Maybe sell a few things. Even old stock will have value; they’ve not seen it for months. Sometimes it feels a long way off.
This entry had such a homey and warm feel to it what with the reference to drinking coffee and engaging in chit-chat. This had an optimistic ring to it that I haven't seen in "Stop The Week..." for a while. I hope I'm not wrong in that assumption.
DeleteIt's funny, whenever a windfall occurs, it's usually somewhere else. It's good to hear the shop is up and running.
DeleteI'm hoping the more optimistic tone more represents reality, rather thann a prompt-directed necessity.
DeleteIt's fascinating how the value changes for things, especially items I had as a child that if I still had, would now be worth quite a lot. I hope you do find a gem in the shingle of Ryde beach. :)
DeleteThe Mad Italian (191)
ReplyDeleteThe lawyer who hung out his shingle and was hired by the last President has a major task on his hands, the question is, can he handle it? Will the photograph album show his face when the last President puts his memoirs together or will he remain undiscovered, despite the current publicity? Meantime the channel delves into the hearts and minds of politicians from all ages. Far more entertaining than the politics of today, even given the technology which can sometimes defeat them. Like the Zoom filter which turned a Texan lawyer into a cat. And he didn’t mind…
So, Leonardo saw that cat filter video? Did he find it amusing? I did. I think the movement of the eyes tickled me more than anything else. It's nice to know that our Mad Italian remains in the loop of what must seem to him to be quite peculiar idiosyncrasies at times.
DeleteThat whole cat video was hilarious. I liked the old guy sitting grumpily in the background. He did crack a brief smile, though.
DeleteThe cat was hilarious, especially how calm and matter-of-fact everyone was being.
DeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Twenty Five) - The Mysterium...Double Exposure
ReplyDeleteThe Mysterium, hexagon-shaped tent of yellow-and-red stripes, was an enigma. Sometimes, a shingle above the entrance proclaimed it "Open." Other times, there was no visible way in at all.
Many fascinating objects comprised the ever-shifting inventory which promised a stockpile of of undiscovered treasures. An item displayed during one visit might later be missing or changed in substantial fashion. Such was the case with the Corinthian leather picture album.
Usually, the photograph collection included a grainy image of conjoined twins resembling Ruby and Rita Deviant but, every now and then, the print reflected the faces of Lucy and Libby Pepperdyne.
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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/kursaal.html
A link to return to "The Prediction" can be found on the site. Thank you.
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NOTE: The Mysterium, Deviant Twins and Pepperdyne Twins have all featured in previous episodes.
You really added dimension to the photo album by stating it was made of Corinthian leather. You have a way with these things.
DeleteWhere else would you put such prompts, if not in a Mysterium?
Deletemore secrets to uncover...
DeleteOooo I love the idea of there sometimes being no visible way in. The Kursaal remains my favorite place.
DeleteDust Boy
ReplyDeleteCarl’s undiscovery was baffling. Not at all like he envisioned. His mother sat on the couch leafing through photo albums as his father came inside to take a break from shingling the house.
“Bob, look at this.”
“Who’s the boy?”
“I have no idea. Here he is again.”
“Must be a neighbor or something.”
“But here he is with us in Toronto.”
“Well, goddamn, who is he?”
Carl peered at his hand and moved between his parents. He seemed real enough, but they paid him no mind. He wondered if he could undiscover his undiscovery.
Classic ghost story told in your inimical way John. Excellent.
Deleteoh yes, really clever, this one!
DeleteGreat story, John, and great use of the prompt words.
DeleteThis was cold and chilling, John. Lovely example of a classic ghost story. We really don't get too many of those on The Prediction.
DeleteI can imagine how terrifying it would be invisible with no idea why.
Deletemore congrats, Holly!
ReplyDelete