No mistaking today's date either since it's our wedding anniversary. A richness of years that does not, I am glad to say, match the entries here for gore and horror. What are too well-matched to separate are Patricia's four entries and although all of you once again offer superb examples of the genre, this week the prize is hers.
Thank you all for participation and - especially - for your comments which adds to the richness here.
words for the coming week: bridge coward swallow
Entries by midnight Thursday 7th
October, new words
posted Friday 8th
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.
ECHOES OF MARINA CHAPMAN?
ReplyDeleteOblivious of who was – or was not – feeding Dooney’s embryonic precociousness, Sally continued to track her own disconcerting bundle of mystery.
How Una had managed to bridge the communication gap between human and The Black Tide was at best puzzling, at worst chilling.
Sally found herself recalling the tales of children raised by wolves, cats, dogs, monkeys and even goats, but the idea of rats fulfilling that parental role just made her flesh creep.
She swallowed. Although the concept of cowardice was defunct in this ruinous dystopia, she couldn’t dispel the growing trepidation of what version of Una she’d find.
Lovely, lovely language here.
DeleteYou had my flesh creeping at the thought of what Una might be. Great entry, Perry!
Deletebeautifully done, Perry!
DeleteFascinating read from start to finish. So well-crafted.
DeleteMUST BE AUTUMN
ReplyDeleteAt the moment, the rain was a mere cloud-kiss as she balanced on the superstructure, the wind barely rippling the river below – cowardly in its silent menace.
Here – far from prying eyes, wicked tongues, “poisoner” nurses and brutal orderlies who filled her world with hurt, lies and bruises, she felt safer than she ever had.
The sound of sirens wafted up from the bridge beneath, an alarm which brought to her mind villagers and burning torches.
She watched the murmuration of swallows as it twirled and whisked off like smoke in the rising wind.
Must be autumn, she thought – plummeting.
Like Sandra, I was captured by the elegant images you created, Perry. Very nice!
Deletean absolutely stunning piece.
DeleteWhat a perfect visual feast of words. This was executed with such style.
DeleteThere's an elegance to this which beguiles me beyond the horror; "cloud-kiss" especially.
ReplyDeleteDawn of the Stoorworm
ReplyDeleteThe Stoorworm entered the estuary, gleaming black, ploughing white water rapids, filling the river from bank to bank. Gunboats showered it in bullets. Its tail shattered them to splinters. The riptide overturned cars and washed people from the shore. Its jaws tore through the iron bridge. From the helicopter we watched soldiers swallowed whole as their commanding officers fled like cowards. Sirens rent the air. Our pilot began a precautionary ascent. The Worm roared as it capsized a merchant ship. A quayside crane fell like an oak and sent us lurching toward a skyscraper.
This would transfer so well into a screen short. It would need no words. The visual alone would carry it through.
DeleteVivid indeed, David.
DeleteUrk - a bad case of worms indeed. Full of action, violence and shared terror.
ReplyDeletekeep these super horrific coldly savage stories coming, David!
DeleteThis reminds me of the giant worms in the movie Dune. A great account of destruction, misery and despair.
ReplyDeleteSorry I've not posted much recently but have been very preoccupied with work and getting ready for my hip replacement op in 12 days. Will post when I can but after the op I have 6 weeks at least before I return to work so the 'Dillos will be back then.
ReplyDeleteBilly
He smelled the stinking scent of mossy fur and fetid breath even before it cleared the dark woods and plunged into the meadow.
As he ran, he glimpsed huge horns, dead eyes and cavernous throat as it bellowed its arrival. He was no coward but the powerful odours filled him with horror. He crouched under the bridge and nervously swallowed spittle gathering in his mouth. Until now, he’d dismissed the old stories of the beast that split you limb from limb as fantasy.
Beating its hooves noisily, the Troll-Eater roared gruffly, trip-trapped thunderously onto the bridge and cleaved it asunder.
A hell of an entrance for Mr Troll-Eater - noisy stinky thing. Poor Billy - presumably the troll - having his bridge vandalized.
Deleteoh yes. great images here -
DeleteTerrie go steady between now and op and then even slower ans steadier until you're ready to enter the world again - every good thought for your healing.
Echoes here of the Billy Goats Gruff for me. You obviously have not lost your touch in the least, Terrie. Hope the hip replacement goes well and as much as we miss you, don't hurry back until you feel fit and ready.
DeleteAll the horror of a nursery rhyme double-distilled. Take care Terrie, that I received in hospital way beyond expectations.
DeleteFIRST OF A COLLECTION
ReplyDeleteNo coward, the redhead had managed to pierce my armour by jabbing me in the eye with a liver probe.
THAT would disrupt my schedule – what with having to wait until it healed the following noon before arranging the slaughter of the next ten targets.
I swallowed the last of her pancreas as I sprayed her crown with distilled water. Fastidiously combing the hair free of blood would help bridge the time.
Her colleagues would be puzzled by the change in modus operandi … not to mention new blood samples … but I simply had to have this glorious head.
This killer makes Jack the Ripper and Michael Myers look like boy scouts. So gloriously gory!
Deletethere's a lot of gore and nastiness here, love it!
DeleteWell, this gave me shudders. Delightful shudders, but shudders nonetheless.
DeleteCrimson-curdled horror indeed.
DeleteIt is good to see your marvelously vivid episodes again, Terrie. Such clear and precise images you create. Good luck with your surgery.
ReplyDeleteNight Shades
ReplyDeleteWe realized after the twelfth twilight that freedom would not be forthcoming. It was a bitter pill to swallow. We are forced to dwell in our own filth until, one by one, death grants release.
I refuse to be the last survivor.
I renounce the proposition of being the final one to cross the bridge that links the here with the hereafter.
I reject bearing witness, with each passage of time (whatever that time entails), to the demise of my comrades.
And so, I have determined to be the first to embrace the shadows.
Such is the destiny of every coward.
Very nicely crafted bit of profundity.
DeletePerhaps not so much a coward. This persons appears to have thought things through quite thoroughly. Very enjoyable, Patricia!
Deletecongrats on being the clear winner last week, Patricia and on this marvellously created vision of the result of crossing the bridge to the hereafter.
DeletePhilosophical and effective use 0f bridge
DeleteMISSING ITEMS 1V: GAME OVER
ReplyDeleteLinda’s hands long ago had loosened and fallen away, but Rudy still felt their garrote-like grip around his neck. Then, his mind had desperately screamed for rescue. None appeared, but rather than confronting his nightmare, he turned coward as a raging dread expanded in his mind and swallowed it. His face soured to a pasty gray, his chin fell to his chest, and the fragile bridge linking his senses to sanity collapsed, plunging him into a black, boundless abyss.
“Is there nothing more you can do?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Linda Gonzales turned so the doctor could not see her smile.
what descriptions! and then the fragile bridge linking hte senses... terrific imagination. Great stuff.
DeleteOooohhh. Nasty stuff that was right up my alley. Loved this one.
DeleteVividly disturbing.
DeleteAvowed
ReplyDeleteHe swore he'd take me to Venice in the springtime when the swallows and martins fill the evening breezes with their melodies and where, it is said, if two lovers kiss on a gondola beneath the Bridge of Sighs, they will be granted eternal bliss. But he was a false-hearted coward. Feckless, irresponsible and, worse of all, unfaithful.
Beneath the Bridge of Sighs, I kissed his lips, now cold and indifferent to female persuasion. It was the execution of a dream as we both sank deep into the promise of infinite euphoria at the bottom of the Rio di Palazzo canal.
Really nice to have a story set somewhere else, this worked well, Patrioia.
DeleteNews Update
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately Sandra is in hospital at the moment and won't be online tomorrow to comment & judge on all the pieces posted here this week. She is making good progress and we hope she will be able to return home soon.
Sandra is the sole administrator of The Prediction, so until I figure out a way around that I can't add a new post; but I will add the next 3 words as a comment here tomorrow so you have something to work on next week.
Julia
I hope it's nothgin serious and that she recovers soon.
Deletesending my healing thoughts to Sandra, hoping all will be well very soon. Thanks for stepping in, Julia
DeleteYou are in my prayers, Sandra.
DeleteAm returned hoe now - thank you for your good wishes and to Julia for stepping in to provide words. I hope normal service will resume shortly.
DeleteThat's great news, Sandra. Rest well.
DeleteThe Joys of Mediumship
ReplyDeleteThis week I have been asked to give you all a message – which is a joy for me to do anyway… so… they are asking you to ponder this thought – cowards do not prosper. Cowardice comes in many guises, from avoiding rushing into something to running away. They are saying to you, there are always ‘problems’ always bridges to cross. Go straight ahead, swallow your doubts, what lies on the other side of whatever you’re concerned about, will work out. It is right for you.
Give the message time and you will see its truth.
A message we should all take to heart, Antonia.
DeleteStop The Week:
ReplyDeleteLong empty days are enlivened by ‘news’ of the floating bridge, there is talk of a new one – surely an April Fool’s joke… it will be hard to swallow this information when the one which is giving us so much trouble now was a new one three endless trouble ridden years ago… or is someone taking the coward’s way out of a financial disaster with false news? The current prediction is running again by mid November.. we have been very aware of the lack of footfall, as have the other small businesses in this small town.
I thought business was picking up quite well, but there are sure to be ups and down along the way, I suppose. In short....business as usual.
DeleteThe Mad Italian
ReplyDeleteAnother conference is over, another time of wishing each other a rose laden bridge to greater success and adoration on the part of constituents. In truth, most are cowards who seek the easy political party) way out of dilemmas and hope that the PM himself will swallow his pride for once and give the country the truth. Of course it did not happen… but then again, no one really thought it would. Politics is a dangerous game, everyone’s reputations are at stake and can be destroyed in heartbeat, as shown this time. In politics, Ignorance is dangerous.
Don't follow the political arena. Politics have always been a bit of a mystery to me and not one I ever felt inclined to investigate with any degree of enthusiasm. Welcome to the world of Ostrich Heads In The Sand.
DeleteNext week's words
ReplyDeleteHello All! Sandra is recovering well so far and continues to make daily improvements. Apologies again for bot being able to post this in it's proper place.
words for the coming week: tender system overwhelm
Entries by midnight Thursday 14th October, new words posted Friday 15th
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.
With all good wishes that Sandra recovers soon and will return to the fold with no complications. Please pass along my good wishes and thoughts, Julia. And thank you for stepping in.
ReplyDeleteDevil in the Details
ReplyDeleteMost all creatures of the flesh, large and small, possess a tenderloin, many of which are highly desired by those with an insatiable appetite for such… on the dark web of all places. But dangers, in the form of lurking law enforcement do-gooders monitoring these sites, exist. And they are not tolerant of such inclinations.
Don’t despair. I have a system that works every time. Forget the web. Look into the sky, raise your arms, and call God a prick. I’ll be there shortly. For all your carnal needs.
Nicely done, John. Some deliciously vivid and distressing pictorials conjured up there.
Deletegoing for the jugular, John... very deep and nasty.
DeleteNo tales from me this week since I'm working on a contest deadline on another creative writing site. I will, however, be back to comment if at all possible.
ReplyDeleteNice to know you're home, Sandra. Hope you continue to improve. You have been sorely missed.
ReplyDeletetis the best of news! Hope you stay health and strong in the future.
ReplyDeleteHere goes:
The Joys of Mediumship were not so joyous today, when I created this year’s Remembrance Window. I walked away from poppies arranged with tenderness sending out thoughts for every man who did not come home. The response was an overwhelming wave of sadness which generated tears for a few minutes. They were all caught up in a system guaranteed to swallow bodies and spit them out in pieces before the guns were silenced. The sadness is, the guns were silenced by politics, not by sacrifice. No one seemed to care about them. It’s been difficult to do this window.
I imagine Remeberance Day must be hard for the few with your gift. Is Remeberance Day like the US Memorial Day?
Deleteanswering John's queries - no, they aren't fresh poppies, they're too fragile and would go over immediately when exposed to the sun through the window. (It's bleached a wicker basket!)
DeleteRemembrance Sunday is the one nearest to the 11th November, when the guns fell silent. There's a huge evening of military entertainment the night before in the Albert Hall, attended by Royals high ranking ones at that. It's a time of wreaths at the Cenotaph, from royals and politicians, and a march past (much reduced these days due to Covid, used to be 10,000 veterans)poppy wreaths and poppies in buttonholes...and a remembering. This is the first year they have flooded me so completely but it means I have stronger connections now.
My Remembrance windows follow a theme, this year is Bomber Command, last year was Far East Prisoners (my uncle was one of them, he came home a shattered changed man) next year will be the war at home, rationing, etc. I already have a lot of the props.
Stop the Week:
ReplyDeleteIt's been slow, draggy hours, wanting to work but hardly able to move for stock...overwhelmed with 'must do' jobs that aren't being done for a hundred reasons, like finding petrol supplies!! The system seems to be getting back to normal, though, the forecourt manager looked as if he was about to give a tender smile rather than a frown at the queues. Today everything stopped for the Remembrance window. I went for simple, poppies spilling from a vase of poppies and the usual cherished photographs of soldiers, book on Churchill, photograph of a Lancaster bomber…
The Remeberance window sounds nice. Were the poppies real?
DeleteThe Mad Italian
ReplyDeleteI cannot recall a time before the Boer War and onward when soldiers were remembered. In past history, when an enemy overwhelms the opposition and wins, there is no room for sympathy, the winner buries the dead and scorns the living losers. In this window display created today I see tenderness, I see a system, a yearly parade and much blowing of bugles and laying of poppy wreaths… something in you craves remembrance so there should be no chance of another war. Something went wrong, there is still killing in Afghanistan.
I see the Italian sometimes displys his soft heart. A good thing to do now and then. If one looks at the past, the present and likely future, I wonder if peace can ever be tottaly achieved.
ReplyDelete