A brilliantly vivid set of landscapes this weeks, from the bleakness of David's apt-named 'Doggerland' to the crab-clawed moonlit illuminating Terrie's 'contraption' and Perry's exhausting tunnel, but undoubted winner is Jim with his FINAL WORDS, in which the raised platform on which the executioner stands is implicit in his words.
Words for the coming week: cutting
hawk tea
Sorry - just remembered I'll be away from home from early Friday morning, so am re-setting deadline to eight pm Thursday
Entries by midnight Thursday 20th
May, new words posted Friday 21st
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.
Bravo, Jim. Well deserved.
ReplyDeleteI am honored to have garnered top prize.
DeleteBravo indeed, Jim. Wonderful creativity.
Deleteyou deserved top place with that one, Jim! congrats!
DeleteThe Lobsterman
ReplyDeleteManny Johnson watched a hawk cutting lazy circles in the clear Jamaican sky. Stupid bird, he thought, wasting his time up there. His eye moved to the hurricane riddled beach, where the body used to be. Tourists were coming out now, combing the shore for once hidden treasures. He read the business card. Detective Joy Hammerton, Kingston PD, his 4:00 appointment highlighted, heavy on his mind. At least he had the whole day to think of something.
“She so English,” he said to himself. “Probly off hav’n tea and crumpets somewhere, mon.”
Manny Johnson's character grows apace. Love that final tea and crumpets thought.
DeleteGreat opening sentence, John. This Manny character you've created is some piece of work. Well done.
Delete"Tea and crumpets" indeed. What a delicious idea, provided there is plenty of butter down in those little nooks and crannies. Great continuation, John.
Deletethis has character stamped all over it and is a perfect example of how to do it. I've just returned a story for the second time, the author thinks he's good enough to write a novel - the story says otherwise. With John I 'm looking beyond the short stories to the novel he has inside him.
DeleteBack In The Day
ReplyDeleteThere had once been a musical referencing a "hawk making lazy circles in the sky." But hawks (along with every other bird) were now extinct.
There had once been a delightful song about "tea for two." But tea plantations were now defunct, along with the customary milk and sugar (or lemon).
There had once been talk about "cutting a rug," defined as dancing in an energetic way. But music was now a thing of the past (long past) and nobody left to dance with anyway.
She often wished she'd never been granted immortality.
Oh ... so lonely. And so tightly delivered.
DeleteThe downside of immortality. Well done, Patrici.
DeleteSorry for mangling your name.
Delete@ John...I've heard worse...!!!
Deletethat's a very clever and sad piece, Patricia, and I am so so glad you're back!
DeleteCripplegate Junction/Part 260 - Hamnet's Quandry/Part Five (a/k/a Show Me The Way To Go Home)
ReplyDeleteHamnet decided to take his chances. He put a shoulder to the small door nestled between the connecting wall of the arches. It opened with astonishing ease (before being absorbed and fused into the masonry) and led to a disused railway cutting atop a steep embankment.
In the culvert below Hamnet (who had often been described as having eyes like a hawk) spied an overturned tea urn, several miscellaneous items and, miracles of miracles, his precious delivery trolley. Upon retrieval, he could hopefully return to Elsie's Dairy without fear of chastisement or loss of employment.
Couldn't he?
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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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I sincerely hope he returns one way or another. My favourite character, I think. (Which is why I now have Maggie O'Farrell's 'Hamnet' om my to-be-read pile.)
DeleteI, too, have concerns about Hamnet's return. Nice job of leaving us hanging, Patricia.
DeleteNo guarantee of anyone getting anywhere at the Junction. Such a strange and wonderful place you've created.
DeleteHamnet is one determined character, I do hope he doesn't get into any problems, he's too interesting to lose!
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 143
ReplyDeleteCutting through the shocked silence; Nigel muttered,’ God’s teeth!’
The contraption now sported a long arm with a large teacup-shaped bowl attached to the end. Several levers, pulleys and newly placed sharp-teethed cogs were also obvious.
‘Aubrey Aardvark hawked noisily, ‘What the feck is it?’ he demanded.
‘A mangonel.’ growled Armi and Nigel in unison.
‘Actually it’s a ‘Pangonel’ grinned Clancy, as the pangolins formed lines in front of it. ‘Meet the pangolin pilots. ‘Course,’ he added, ‘you kin use girt, great, rocks too.’
Realising its intention; several aardvarks paled.
‘Nikedillo give us courage,’ whispered Nigel.
‘Feckin’ ‘ell,’ repeated Armi.
And very soon, battle will commence. Love the oaths and exclamations. And the dialogue. In fact, love all of this.
DeleteAs always, such clear, vivid use of language, Terrie. I fear Nigel might need something more than courage.
Delete--
I'm glad the contraption is almost ready for use. It should prove effective, I think.
DeleteMagnificent job of describing the "mangonel"...Oh, sorry, "pangonel." Superb visualization.
Deleteit is the visualisation which leaps off the screen and keeps this a living entity
DeleteORGAN DONOR
ReplyDeleteHesmeth Fent, some said, ‘liked his tea,’ and his trashed liver would no doubt agree with that assessment. And his few acquaintances would likely concur that Hesmeth’s penchant for continuous inebriation contributed to his hawkish demeanor and ravaged physical state.
Hesmeth clearly wasn’t concerned with keeping himself fit, and cutting into him would be difficult due to the layers of fat that padded his ample abdomen. But this surgery was absolutely necessary, for his kidneys were needed elsewhere.
Knife in hand I hovered over him and eyed his restraints.
“Stop wiggling, Hesmeth, or I’ll have to give you a tranquilizer!”
Wriggle on, Hesmeth, methinks. Gruesomness awaits.
DeleteThat's one way to be sure organs are avaiable when needed. I think I'd pass on those particular kidneys, though. You're on a roll, Jim.
DeleteThis was most definitely shudder-worthy...but in the most delightful way.
DeleteI could do with a whole series of these for my short short story anthology, Blood Clots...
DeleteTarget practice [Threshold 349]
ReplyDeleteI froze. Much as might a rabbit who, while every sense told it to flee from the downward spiral of the encircling hawk, chose to trust in the camouflage of its tea-coloured fur against the rich earth and pale-striped stubble of a new-shorn field.
Intermittently spot-lit, I had no chance of hiding. Didn't want to hide from Raven, who'd already bid me wait. Didn't know about the other; neither who nor where from. Would Raven hear a second engine, above the noise of his own?
Was its rider well-intended? Or –
Another flash. One straight-line towards me.
The other cutting in.
'tea-colored fur'... great use of the prompt tea, Sandra. The situation here is looking mighty grim.
DeleteNice bit about the rabbit. I wonder if we're about to meet someone new, or is it a past character making a return? Time will tell...
DeleteI had never thought of a rabbit being "tea-coloured" before but, of course, it is the perfect description. Anxious to find out who the new arrival might be.
Deleteoh definitely want to know who this is!
DeleteChange of focus [426]
ReplyDeleteBy tea-time they were in the mortuary, the pathologist’s aristocratic nose mere inches from the calligraphic cuttings on the body's back. Wielding magnifying glass – a barely-necessary supplement to the hawk-eyed experience of his years – and speaking for the benefit of the microphone suspended above his head, Edwin Rudd expressed his opinion of the standard of English teaching at the local comprehensive.
Irritated, Henry Moth (who'd left there with several A-levels) pointed out, 'Derek Nickle never went there –'
Sharply, Pettinger, 'You know him?'
'Aye. Was head boy at the grammar –'
'So why the hell did Philly point the finger?'
You do crime well, Sandra. Always a pleasure to read this series.
DeleteComprehensive School...I attended one of those. Thanks for the memory, Sandra and the enviable writing, as always.
Deletevery good cliff hanger there!
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 144
ReplyDeleteAfter tucking the feather-boa over his shoulder, Pink-Fairy hefted his handbag into place ‘I’ll get back to my establishment and organise cutting some new tunnels of my own.’
Take a couple of digger-dillos with you too, Mr. Pink,’ Sarg told him, ‘you kin journey wiv Atlas fer most ov the way.’
Pink-Fairy nodded.
Watch ‘im like a hawk.’ She hissed at Atlas as they exited the burrow. ‘I knows a S.A.S asset when I sees one.’
A few paw-paces ahead, in the darkness Pink-Fairy smiled knowingly. ‘We could be home in time for cactus-cake and sassafras tea.’ He said blithely.
Pink Fairy puts me in mind of many folk I've known ... never-ending pleasure.
DeletePink Fairy and his feather boa never loses appeal. There's much more to him than meets the eye.
Delete"Home in time for cactus-cake and sassafras tea." Does an image get any more delightful that that? What a fascinating cast of characters you have created, Terrie.
Deletecactus cake - ugh - but we are in a different world with the dillos, one that never falters.
DeleteNavigating the Styx
ReplyDeleteThe stone faced tillerman sipped tea as he steered his course, the black barge cutting a steady channel between bloated corpses that endlessly rolled on foaming rapids. The sky was forked with lightening. The deluge that bounced blood tainted rain from the deck seemed endless.
Spying a horned imp capering on the bleak, obsidian bank his faithful hawk took flight, returning with the impudent creature squirming gorily in its beak.
We cowered in the hold, cold-blooded murderers to a man, wailing in consternation, wondering in which circle of Hell our souls would be compelled to alight.
"The deluge that bounced blood tainted rain from the deck seemed endless." - a magnificent sentence in an entire feast of them.
DeleteNicely done, David... a scene rife with terror and misery.
DeleteSuch a wonderfully descriptive piece. You've talked me out of ever wanting to visit the place.
DeleteA day in the life of Charon and his ferry-carrying unfortunates. Much applause for the "circle of Hell" reference. This one was a certain standout.
Deletesuch vivid writing - again...
DeleteSupply And Demand
ReplyDeleteThe arrival of the hawker, with his colorful garb and merry whistle, was a much anticipated event. His inventory was always so unusual and fascinating. Past offerings included a teapot, once home to a dormouse; cuttings from a plant reputed to have sprouted high into the clouds; and a vial of twinkles said to conjure the art of flight.
Upon his departure, many of the village children were reported missing.
But nobody ever remembered that.
I am ever-admiring of your ability to meld, with economy, well-known tales into something fresh and new.
DeleteHow do you think of these things, Patricia? There, I got your name right this time. Your imagination knows no bounds.
DeleteWonderfully creative, Patricia. Such a splendid grouping of words!
DeleteI would wish the submissions for the anthologies were this easy to read and came with the impact ending... but they don't...
DeleteEMERGENCE
ReplyDeleteJoanie’s breathing was harsh and desperate as she reached the surface, her fear of discovery cutting into the natural rhythm when oxygen is required.
She could hear the cohort of rats now, alternately screeching at something off in another direction, and at the foundling, hawking their alarm to Una.
Joanie peered out from cover. The child had turned now, a sprig of holly in hand, and was skipping over the rubble as if it was a hopscotch game.
Extracting herself carefully from the treacherous niche, she examined her wounds.
She’d have to dip into Mary’s tea tree supplies to disinfect.
Screeching rats, what a great description. It funny how a kid will always find a way to play, even in the destructive rubble.
Delete"Tea tree" - I knew this word would spark many entertaining uses. And glad to see Joanie's emerged, but anticipating nothing good is coming next.
DeleteA picture painted somewhere between despair and childhood exuberance. This was a fascinating scenario which I hope will continue.
Deleteimages here which will linger - childhood is rich in many ways and devastating in others.
DeleteThe child's casual joy adds such a marvelous contrast to Joanie's dire situation. Nice, Perry.
ReplyDeleteKursaal (Episode Two Hundred Twenty Nine) - Mrs. Pepperdyne And The Absorption Anomaly
ReplyDeleteMrs. Pepperdyne could always tell her twin daughters apart. "I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw," she would say. But, since the death of Lucy and the disappearance of Libby, she often referred to both of them as a singular person and the cutting back of one place setting at every meal (including the twins' favourite family tea) became a normal occurrence.
Even more strange was the fact that every photograph on display in Pepperdyne Cottage formerly taken of the two now depicted the image of a solemn and solitary blonde-haired, hazel-eyed little girl.
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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.
---------------------------------------------------------
NOTE: Mrs. Pepperdyne and her twin daughters (Lucy and Libby) have all featured in previous episodes.
I'm feeling more than a little sorry for Mrs Pepperdyne.
DeleteThere's something so sad about cutting back on a place setting. Poor Mrs. P. I've never heard the hawk and handsaw adage. Thank you for helping me continue my education. I should have attended comprehensive school.
Deletethere's a big mystery here, which may well never be resolved - nothing is right in Patricia's world.
DeleteThe Joys of Medi8umship no 55
ReplyDeleteTea leaves are not my chosen way of prediction, although my mother tried, buying loose tea for me… it didn’t work. My readings seem to be more hawk-like, circling, searching, not missing a thing that needs to be on the page. Sometimes I find myself cutting something out, not because spirit are wrong but because some people are not ready for it, they need a little cosseting before the spirit message can be openly given to them. I wonder how often spirit thought that of me… and I wonder when I stepped into full service without thinking about it.
Fascinating train of thought around smoothly inserted prompt words.
DeleteLove the inner musings here, Antonia.
DeleteI have to admit, when I first met you, I was iffy about your skills. Now I look forward to hearing more about your methods and the process. You've convinced me. Loved the tea leaves bit.
DeleteStop the Week: I Want To Get Off (156)
ReplyDeleteJust when we get our social distancing floor decals, it looks like the government is cutting through all the rules. We; along with 100% of our customers, are watching hawk-like for the chance to dump the masks,,, please. It’s hard to drink tea through a mask… the woodwork round the window is now a deep copper colour and Shaun is booked on a fishing charter boat trip tomorrow… (another day lost) meantime the horror anthologies continue to grow, some exciting writing coming in (thanks, David!) and something to do while I wait for customers…
Maths not being my strong point, but am I right I thinking episode 156 marks tree years of Stop the Week?
DeleteIt does indeed seem that we may be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel regarding this pandemic. Let's keep our fingers crossed. Exciting news about the horror anthologies, Antonia. There is certainly a wealth of talent to be found here and no mistake.
DeleteIn hindsite, I wish I'd started a floor decal business two years ago. An entertaining Stop the Week this week.
DeleteThe Mad Italian 202
ReplyDeleteI have asked the question – who is telling the most lies in Parliament at this time, the politicians or the scientists? And even as I get mixed responses I know the only thing you want of anyone who can give it is - an answer to when will this all be over. The political hawks think they have cutting edge answers from the scientists. In truth they drink teas and discuss vaccines you have never heard of and never will, so there is no comfort to be found there. Yet. When the answers come, I will give them to you.
Our Mad Italian is being quite enigmatic this week and yet, I will trust his judgment.
ReplyDeleteThe troublw with scientific answers is, they keep changing. Remember when we wiped down our groceries? At least we did here in the states. Now, they say that type of contact doesn't transmit the virus.
ReplyDeleteWhom can one trust during these trying times? Certainly not government or science.
ReplyDelete