This week's top spot goes to David for 'The Assassin’s Apprentice' - the lack of awareness of the would-be assassin so very well caught.
Words for the coming week: bolt feather mandible
Entries by midnight Thursday 29th April, new words posted Friday 30th
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.
Sibling Rivalry
ReplyDeleteWith prosthetic mandible bolted into place, the feathered monstrosity was set to rampage mode. It made its terrible way down the hall with a precise gate, jaws opening and clacking shut.
One third Lego, one third Erector Set and one third pure ingenuity, the creature was a beautiful thing.
She heard the destruction and her brother’s screams. That’ll teach him to cut her Barbie doll’s hair.
They take things soooo seriously!! Good'un, John. I had visions of the old B&W B-movie, The Claw.
DeleteWho says girl's can't do engineering?
DeleteLoved the 'rampage mode'
Only you could come up with such a scenario, John. Frankly, I'm not too upset to see Barbie get what's coming to her...!!!
Deletethere;s rivalry and then there's ... a monster created by someone who should not know so much about killing machines...
DeleteLoved the first line! A humorous and relatable piece, as I have an older brother. :)
DeleteA female scorned, young or old, is no one to mess with. Very nice, John.
ReplyDeleteFALL
ReplyDeleteBolting into an unlikely crevice just in time, Joanie slipped and tumbled down a long incline, feathering her startled scream to avoid discovery, despite the pain of each bump and collision – her precipitous progress being quite noisy enough, she thought.
When she hit bottom she waited until the scree settled, ears pricked for surface movement which would indicate Una’s approach and eyes glues to the small aperture which admitted daylight some twenty feet above.
Nothing.
Rubbing her bruised areas, she looked about for some debris which might be used as a climbing tool. An old horse mandible looked the job.
Looking forward to the next episode, just in case I some time need to know
DeleteA good, descriptive piece that builds tension well. Good job.
DeleteLooking forward to finding out how Joanie gets herself out of this. Loved the description of "feathering" a "startled scream." What an inventive use of the prompt.
Deleteexcellent use of the prompt! and what a description of a tumble too!
DeleteLoved the phrase "feathering her startled scream"
DeleteI fear Joanie's problems have just begun. That first paragraph is splendid, Perry. I felt like I tumbled with Joanie over each bump.
ReplyDeleteCastaway In the Void
ReplyDeleteBolted inside the life support pod. Endlessly drifting. A feather tumbled on the wind. Like the incredible shrinking man, so microscopic within in the vast galactic magnitude of the universe I was rendered entirely invisible. An inconsequential speck of cosmic dust, growing incrementally smaller.
Rations running low. Less than a gallon of water. The threat that the hull may lose integrity at any minute holding me within the mandibles of some terrible beast. I waited to be crushed out of existence.
And then, a miracle. A light piercing the darkness. A distant silver pinprick of hope, drawing closer.
This is good stuff, David. The first paragraph is beautifully written. From despair to hope... well done!
DeleteA beautifully depicted situation which makes the horror worse.
DeleteTalk about a bleak situation. What a scary 5hing, to be trapped in space. Let's hope the piercing light offers some relief.
DeleteA ray of hope within the gloom. This was gloriously descriptive and covered so many emotions.
DeleteOh yes, reminiscent of some of Bradbury's space stories, beautifully done.
DeleteBiting my nails a bit over this one! Loved the comparison of the threat to the hull as 'holding me within the mandibles of some terrible beast.'
DeleteMode Of Expression
ReplyDelete"That was a bolt from the blue," she'd say, if the situation was remotely fitting, along with, "You could have knocked me over with a feather."
Very fond of her idioms was Nancy, even though she had no idea of the actual meanings most of the time.
It was tedious, her appropriate phrases for everything.
Impossible to engage in decent conversations with her, watching her mind churn for trite phrases and mandible working overtime as she chewed the possibilities.
When I finally summoned the courage to leave, she thankfully had nothing to say.
I think the cat got her tongue.
That lay-off hasn't dimmed your ability to place prompt words in brilliant conjunction and then add the kick at the end.
DeleteThis is why I don't have a cat. Nice work, Patricia. As sharp as ever, it seems.
Deleteone of those truly annoying people beautifully depicted here - welcome back, Patricia and BTW, I am looking for stories for 4 anthologies right now... how's the arm?????
DeleteLoved this line 'Impossible to engage in decent conversations with her, watching her mind churn for trite phrases and mandible working overtime as she chewed the possibilities.'
DeletePatricia - you devil you! How cleverly you string us along then drop that marvelous final line in. Very nice!
ReplyDeleteTHE PAST INTRUDES
ReplyDeleteSally massaged the site of an old mandibular fracture – legacy of a brutal stepfather – as Una’s route took her close to where she had seen Joanie suddenly disappear.
It was a nervous habit she’d picked up from the period she could still feel the small support bolt which had had to be surgically implanted to ensure symmetrical healing.
Oh, he’d been solicitous when money was all that was required. Was he still alive, or had the ‘Crystallines’ absorbed him as a callous murderous soulmate?
Colm touched her.
He’d feathered an area of dust from the ground beside her to write.
Oh, excellent - so much in this, a wide, wide vista.
DeleteA bolted jaw courtesy of a brutal stepfather would never be forgotten.
DeleteSo much depth of information packed into a minimum of words. Not easy to do, particularly when it's as expertly constructed as it is here.
Deleteso much in so few words, compelling reading too.
DeleteA memorable piece. Loved the phrasing of the line 'He’d feathered an area of dust from the ground beside her to write.' A brighter spot to the horror of the memory of her stepfather.
DeleteIllumination [Threshold 346]
ReplyDelete"Bolt from the blue" is the usual phrase, but the next jagged flash was blue: vivid turquoise incorporating both speed and lacquered feathered breast of a kingfisher. It reached the ground not ten yards to my left, via what, in the millisecond I had sight of it, appeared to be the bleached skull of some gigantic reptile. Tooth-like serrations along the lower mandible, the length and flatness, suggested crocodile, but this many times larger.
Since lightning is reputed not to strike twice, I abandoned the quad-bike and stepped towards where I hoped it still was. Assuming it'd not been incinerated.
I think Raven needs to get back. This is getting intense.
DeleteI return to find this serialization as fascinating as ever. As always, I'm left waiting to find out what happens next.
DeleteI agree with John, Raven does need to get back but since when has Raven done anything that should be done?
DeleteA striking and vivid description with 'vivid turquoise incorporating both speed and lacquered feathered breast of a kingfisher.'
DeleteChange of focus [423]
ReplyDeleteThe sudden wince and tight-clenched stiffening of several mandibles, caught unprepared as Edwin Rudd performed, without warning, the necessary swabbing of the victim's genital orifices was, Pettinger thought, payback for earlier disrespect. And, from the sudden closing of a gate further along the lane, the screeching of an ill-greased bolt, similarly upset the nosy bastards drinkers at the Feathers Inn.
Preliminary photographs had been taken, both of body and its bloody message, and surrounding location.
As she was zipped into a body bag, and carried to the waiting van, the SOCOs moved in and began their meticulous search for evidence.
Swabbing orifices of the dead would be proper payback for disrespect.
DeleteOne can only hope that searches for evidence...meticulous or otherwise...will turn up something worthwhile. Lovely hiding of the prompts within the story here.
Deletesome truly nasty images being put before us with this instalment!
DeleteWhat could have occurred...
ReplyDeleteFrankie tried to hide the feathers that sprouted from his scalp.
“Have you been snooping in Master’s apothecary bag again?” Igor said.
Frankie grunted, hinged mandible working silently.
“Master will not be happy,” Igor said.
Frankie fingered his neck bolt.
“Yes, Master will be very displeased.”
They heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Oh, Master…” Igor rushed toward the door, but Frankie grabbed him by the neck.
“What happened here?” said Master, mouth agape.
Frankie studied the cracked ceiling.
“This is not good.” He eyed the feathers. “Not good at all. But let’s clean things up. I can always get another assistant.”
I read this in black and white. With doomy music.
DeleteCheeky take on the gothic tale. I can see this being easily inserted into the script for "Young Frankenstein."
DeleteSandra, me too! very clever!
DeleteHomecoming
ReplyDeleteI crouch on the edge of the fountain and stare at my lack of reflection in the silver water.
"What is it, Shadow?" Jeyt clicks at my shoulder, the sound of their mandibles still strange to my ears. For a time, we could only communicate with vigorous gestures and frustrated sighs.
"Reminiscing."
They whistle a tone of understanding, though they don't.
I press my fingers to the scar beneath my feathered cloak, all that remains of the bolt meant to claim me, meant to ensure I'd never return home. Only, I am not who I was. This time I'm ready.
Oooohhh...lovely taste of foreshadowing here. Adore the idea of someone not being who they once were.
DeleteThis is so intriguing. I like how you insert "they" while referring to Jeyt. I picture a two-headed being or a split personality of some sort. I really like the first sentence and Shadow's lack of a reflection.
DeleteYou have an enviable ability to create, time and again, new-envisaged worlds strongly enough to create a desire to visit.
DeleteI love the mystery in this: home, not who I was? Very nice, Holly,
Deletethis captured me from the first line - very intriguing, looking forward to more...
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumnship No 52
ReplyDeleteA feather-light touch as a spirit comes close or to guide me down the stairs in the dark hours of the morning is all I need to reinforce the connection between us. Time was when we talked endlessly but it has changed, as everything does. I miss the conversations but am aware I can see the spirit world I inhabit when meditating or just resting, it’s shadowy and welcoming and peaceful. No mandibles chattering… The occasional clash of a crossbow bolt for practice… more to feel good than anything but that’s fine by me… it is a world of love.
Sounds like a most peaceful encounter, Antonia. Also sounds like it's not usually the norm.
DeleteI'm sure some are more engaging than others, provided they kept their worldly ways. While being guided down the stairs on a dark night, are you sometimes concerned? I would be shaking in my slippers.
Deletethis particular spirit is my beloved husband, Antony Woodville, who waits for me to get up in the night. I have ten stairs to go down, ever with the risk of my putting a foot wrong... that gentle touch says watch out, be careful, we are almost there. How much my cat understands is anyone's guess but some nights he gets off the bed when I get up and sits at the top of the stairs to wait for me to come back. I am sure he and Antony have some intriguing conversations at times. I see Kai's fixed look when they talk. There is nothing but love and no one comes near until the human is well used to working with spirit. Ours is a love which has lasted over 500 years and counting.
DeleteStop The Week; I Want To Get Off (153)
ReplyDeleteThe exotic pet shop has aquarium items, skulls with and without mandibles… not sure about them but come Halloween I might need one as a feather touch to the window. Painting goes on, just, too many demands on Shaun’s time, but he did get to grease the bolt I can’t usually open. Plans are there, just need the time to make them happen. How many times have you found that to be true? The Landlady came with a car full of goodies, I have been busy… they all needed display space. Shaun keeps selling the table I need for that…
Things certainly appear to be looking up, Antonia. And that is really good news.
DeleteA dearth of tables and shelves can disrupt display ideas for most folk. Good luck!
DeleteSo, he sells the table right underneath you, kinda. I once bought a desk at an antique mall that had a lot of displays on it. The saleswoman rolled her eyes when I told her I wanted it.
DeleteThe Mad Italian 199
ReplyDeleteThe word mandible is of itself a word of deep meaning. Few know it, even fewer care to know it but the busyness of the mandible keeps us politicians going. Look now at the chaos the PM is involved in, I am sure he wishes himself bolted and barred behind the door of No 10 never to be seen again, or is that really something he would wish for those who expose his occasional outbursts? Do we not all have such outbursts at times? There will be more talk to come, more ‘scandal’ and more gloating over someone else’s misfortune.
Our Mad Italian seems to almost be relishing the idea of more misfortune. But maybe I'm doing him a great disservice.
DeleteVery opinionated, this Mad Italian, and I think he is right on.
DeleteI certainly would want to bolt myself in a room if I were in a position of power these days.
DeleteNicely done on last week's win, David. I've missed all you talented creative scribes and am happy to be back. Easing in slowly this week with one stand-alone. Hope to be back in full force next week though.
ReplyDeleteLAST STAND
ReplyDeleteI stood atop a small hill, conscious of the feathery breeze tickling my skin. Given my situation, the breeze offered a near-laughable bit of solace.
I glared defiantly at the enemy and realized that bolting from this tiny pseudo-sanctuary would be pointless. The GI-ANTS surrounded me, their mandibles clicking rapacious agreement to their commander, who just issued the order to attack.
They climbed the hill.
It was time.
I stared at my last shell, the one saved for myself, then pushed it toward the breech.
Too carelessly.
It clanked off my weapon and rolled toward the advancing GI-ANTS.
"Oh, shit!"
With each succeeding entry I am regretting the offer of 'mandible' as a prompt word. Too many of you are too skilled at using such to very, very ill effect.
DeleteThis is a prime example (although I did enjoy 'feathery breeze').
GI-ANTS, brilliant. If there were ever a stereotypical terrible mandible, it would be on a really big ant. Looks like a quick death eluded this fellow.
DeleteGI-ants. Don't come any more creative that that!
DeleteI just love that last line! So clever, so right!
Delete