Rules, that is, but it truly has been a tricky decision, and one which I'm a little wary of making lest you all think a triple submission might guarantee you maximum accolades. Nevertheless, I'm citing Terrie as top performer this week for her three episodes of what is the eagerly-awaited 'Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries ' but also Jim for the poetic 'On the beach.'
Thank you all for the week's scintillating entertainment.
Words for the coming week: anemone gentle pit
Entries by midnight Thursday 8th
July new words posted Friday 9th
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.
PERSPECTIVE
ReplyDeleteWatching the smaller rats peel away was like watching a sea-anemone unwillingly opening from a half-digested meal.
What remained of boss-rat was not dissimilar. Caolin felt a disturbance in the pit of his stomach.
Sally put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
‘Should’ve used a bigger pebble, maybe?’ he managed.
Sally pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘I think we got all the attention we’d want. If it hadn’t been for Una–’
‘Don’t think any of them would have risked the barrier just to get at us ¬ certainly not ex-rat there,’ Colm interjected, grimacing as the pulp writhed suddenly.
Urgh - this is deliciously gruesome and stomach-churning, Perry. And each succeeding sentence makes it worse.
DeleteThank you - I thought it was time
DeleteNothing like writhing pulp to spice up an already spiced up story. A good read, Perry.
DeleteThis conjured delightfully gruesome visuals. Loved the "Should've used a bigger pebble..." So reminiscent of that famous statement from "Jaws."
Deletenot a lot else to say, it's gory, it['s brilliantly written, it's horid!
DeleteIn The Vale of the Anemones
ReplyDeleteA guilty conscience drove Jake back to the foot of the gentle incline and the shallow pit where he’d buried his stalker. Dozens of pink anemones had sprouted on the mound. Drawing attention. Panicking he began yanking them out by the roots.
The wet soil trembled beneath his knees. When her cold hand grabbed his wrist he screamed. She rose, blackened and bloated. A deadly kiss from her putrefied lips sealed his fate. Her cadaver clung like a vine and entwined him into the loam, thwarting his murderous plot to escape her obsessive infatuation.
This is my kind of stuff, David! I loved this from start to finish. This is terror in spades!
DeleteCreepy indeed - not to be read before bedtime.
DeleteThe stalker is still stalking, and very effectively. Great horor here.
DeleteThis was all too realistic and believable. Some obsessions cannot be severed...not even by death. Jake should have known better than to return. Didn't he hear that all-too-familiar warning music as he got closer?
Deleteoh nasty one, just the sort of thing I love!!
DeleteDS Jo Freedom [1]
ReplyDeleteBlack-clad, black-faced, packed tight in silent waiting, they focused on a barely-seen building at the north end of the coastal pit village. Never 'seaside': any suggestion of golden sands and children's laughter entirely inappropriate: thin-lipped rows of long-abandoned terraced houses represented anything but (and the sand part-coal).
Tonight, it was one of their own they'd come in the hope of reclaiming.
Rumour, gentle but venomous as sea-anemones, following days of not-to-be-spoken-of despair at her inexplicable silence, suggested she might still be alive; a hope necessarily compromised by the knowledge two days as a cover-broken trafficked teen likely worse than death.
'thin-lipped rows of long-abandoned terraced houses' is just one of many vivid uses of language. Despair bubbles throughout this. Very nice, Sandra.
DeleteRecovering an under-cover trafficked teen... what a concept. Especially after the cover was broken. Loved the distinct difference between coastal village and seaside village.
DeleteVivid descriptions as always. Dare we hope this is the beginning of something new to enjoy on a weekly basis?
Deleteit's not easy to consistently find words to describe locations, but you do it so well. Definitely the thin-lipped rows is class writing.
DeleteNicely done, Terrie and Jim. The incentive to do better in order to equal such magnificent entries just gets higher and higher to achieve.
ReplyDeleteEye Of The Beholder
ReplyDeleteNo flowers thrive here. Nothing from the anemone to the zinnia.
No trees flourish here. Nothing from the acacia to the zelkova.
This place has no gentle atmosphere. It is far from peaceful; far from calm.
It is violent and harsh. It is savage and bleak.
Existence is miserable for the proletariat inhabitants, but for those among us who belong to the higher echelon, residence comes with many privileges.
Most refer to this place as The Pit.
I call it Home.
Wonderful world-building - are you intending to reveal its inhabitants?
DeleteSo smooth and easy to read. So savagely brutal. So well done, Patricia!
DeleteThe Pit, likely not a sought after vacation destination. A very entertaining little story, Patricia.
Deletevery mysterious and very bleak. Wonderful stuff.
DeleteLove at first sight
ReplyDeleteWhite anemones swayed gently in the lacquered flowerbox at 1409 Magnolia Street. The place wasn’t anything like I imagined.
I ran the conversation once more in my mind. She said he kept her in a pit, gave me an address and pleaded for help. I asked her name and she smiled until a man came and led her away.
The smile was what done it… why I came alone without calling the police. I didn’t need anyone mucking up my chance at love. I took a breath and opened the door. I was going to have this girl or die trying.
Passion can be dangerous - even lethal. I hope this fellow keeps his head together. As always, very entertaining, John.
DeleteThis is jewel-like in its glittering completeness - love it.
DeleteWhy do I get the sneaky feeling this isn't going to go as originally planned? I felt sure "1409 Magnolia Street" must be a legitimate location related to infamy, but googling turned up no such verification. Ergo, many congratulations for an address that sounds so authentic.
Deleteit all sounds authentic in this sharply written piece.
DeletePRE-ENCOUNTER
ReplyDeleteCuriosity drew me to the Swizzle Stick, a perverse playground where wicked fantasies can be indulged without censure. Its patrons are human debris, fugitives from the vilest pits of Hell; its entertainment a parade of drug-befouled strippers who stumble clumsily through their routines.
All except her… a beautiful woman who moves gracefully onstage, her eyes bright, her smile warm, and her colorful veils swirling gently around her like the vibrant tentacles of a sea anemone.
She didn’t belong here, and I wondered why such a gorgeous woman is drawn to this foul den of debauchery.
I had to find out.
Well, of course you did - I can only close my eyes and wish you luck, Jim
DeleteNo closed eyes here, I want to find out what happens. A neat little story, Jim.
DeletePlease do say we are going to find out. This is way too intriguing to be left there.
Deletemore, more!
DeletePalette for negotiation[Threshold 356]
ReplyDeleteBehind Raven's head, what had been scarlet and vermilion had dimmed as the sun played hard to get. The velvet of the clouds faded slowly from black to a husky shade of anemone; much as once-splendid royal queens, grown gentle with age loses their preference for purple.
While I watched the sky some silent negation took place. Turning back I saw Cock-tail had been forced to recognise tattoos and the immaculate custom-painted glory of his quad bike counted for nothing when the scarred and pitted dents of the pair we had acquired were owned by, or part of, Raven's retinue.
This was filled with very nice description. Kind of a treat for the senses.
DeleteBeautiful introduction to this neat tale in the first paragraph, Sandra.
DeleteEvery now and then, your descriptions transcend even your most wonderfully descriptive passages. Such was the case here. Loved the idea of the sun playing hard to get.
Deletethis is constant in its ability to intrigue. Where next...
DeleteChange of focus [433]
ReplyDeleteIf Philly Stepcart had been as keen to appear by his side in bed as she was when, in the early hours, she heard the gentle alert of his work phone, John Pettinger would be a happy man. With a brazenness he'd've better enjoyed, pit of belly conscience-free, had she demonstrated it in horizontal mode between the sheets, she stood close enough to hear the details clear as he.
To flatly echo, 'Annie Moan?'
Pettinger nodded, picturing the aged whore. Violet eyes, lashes mascara-laden stamens, complementing the flower she'd been named for. 'Anemone, aye. Fullerton's garage pit, down Wharf Street.'
It's sad that Stepcart stays close to Pettinger more for the information he can provide than the love he can offer. It's sad too that he knows it. Nice writing, Sandra.
DeleteWell, at least Pettinger seems to be aware of his situation when it comes to Philly Stepcart. She must present quite a challenge to him.
Deletemascara-laden stamens... I mean, how good does it get? Not much better than this, for sure!
DeleteDaniel started visiting our circle, bringing the brightness of an anemone which upset serious sitters, they did not like frivolity. They were shamed when Daniel revealed his past life; he had been a Holocaust victim. He’d searched for 50 years but no group would accept this gentle spirit. This group didn’t, either, it became Daniel and me and a request to write his life story. 2 ½ years later it was done, amidst tears and relief and freedom for him. Writing his harrowing story was a test – a dark pit of horror. I get to write all the tough autobiographies…
ReplyDeleteThe tough jobs are often the best.
DeleteAnd you no doubt do an excellent job of writing the tough ones, Antonia.
DeleteNo doubt that was probably one harrowing tale to tell. As a descendant of the despised Rom, I am well aware of what had to be endured during those dark days. Thank you for keeping the record straight.
DeleteStop The Week (7)
ReplyDeleteThe summer moves on: more ‘old’ customers visit now, sometimes just to talk. Today a customer told me of his wife’s death in January, tears pouring down his face. He was lost in his pit of sadness. I know him as a gentle loving man.
Shaun is improving, slowly, there is much to do but I dare not overload him. He has a boat to rescue from the river before it becomes useless, it needs to be sold; it needs to be fixed to be sold… and anemones planted in the garden to help sell his house… it never ends!!
It's a tough road when things start piling up. I wish Shaun a speedy recovery so he can recue the boat.
DeleteIt does indeed seem as though some things never end. For example, no sooner do we appear to get a handle on this virus, a new strain rears its ugly head. Still, nice to hear that Shaun is improving and customers are now returning, if only to chat.
DeleteThe Mad Italian 209
ReplyDeleteDo I not bloom like an anemone when I appear anywhere? Of course! The radiance is there for all to see, a gentle sunshine which beams on you and lifts you from the Pit of Despair caused by politicians who shout the opposite to what is being arranged for the people without thinking if they were in that position… they would do exactly the same thing, right? it is so easy to be in opposition and think yourself in leadership roles. Few are fit to take on the mantle of leadership and that includes those who are there now.
The Italian is in rare form when it comes to praising one's self. Very refreshing. Remind me, though, not to get on his bad side.
DeleteThere is little I can say about our Mad Italian that I've not already expressed. He continues to impress me with his knowledge and insight.
DeleteTaking a little trip with friends next week, so I will be posting no tales and making no comments. I will, however, return later today with my observations on this week's contributions.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy your trip.
DeleteThank you for putting my efforts in the top slot for last week, Sandra. Its been a busy week this week as its last one for the students at college so only one entry this time.
ReplyDeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 154.
The breeze lifted, swelling gently toward the hidden ‘Dillos, along with the reek of rat and weasel, the scent of Tosca’s camouflage wafted with it.
That stinky, pitted, mess of sticks ain’t so daft now ‘cos Tosca's managed t’get between us an’ them,’ muttered someone, ‘I ‘ope them rocks kill plenty of feckin rats cos I dunno if them daft pangolins kin pull off this flying malarkey.’
A loud twang and a whistling sound arced overhead: Loud thuds and agonised squeals from the enemy camp followed.
The ‘Dillos flattened their ears and, burrowing further into the anemone-quilted undergrowth, waited.
Sounds like all the preparation is beginning to pay off.
DeleteIt's good to see the contraption working well. An entertaining episode for sure.
ReplyDelete