Friday, 17 December 2021

The addiction of reading

Apologies for the tardiness in posting this week's update – I was too much absorbed in the book I was reading (Peter Benson's 'The South in winter') to remember the need to write one – how much I admire and envy the ability of novelists to do that!  (And that despite both the rich variety of what was on offer this week from each of you, and including the welcome return of Holly!

So a quick re-read this morning and it is the final line of David's 'Better the Devil you know' tale of the Ark that takes my fancy, along with a nod of recognition to Antonia, once again, for her seamless inclusion of the prompt words into an account of her weekly shop activities. Thank you, both, and also to each of you for commenting, which is the life blood of this site.

Words for the coming week: gentle, goose, weave

Entries by midnight Thursday 23rd December,  new words posted Friday 24th

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.

103 comments:

  1. thank you, Sandra, congrats, David - and apologies for lack of comments,just lately I have found time vanishing like mist and I still have a pile of To Do Notes... where I would normally (in a previous incarnation) do what I want, My two fur laden monsters come in, one starts playing ball all around the office, under the desk, under the chair, and the other one waits his chance to leap onto the first furry monster and do some damage... and before I know it, hey, it's supper time, and the big eyed sorrowful faces ask 'can we please go to bed...'

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Definitely how most of my days feel, especially since we added two teenage cats to my family. :)

      Delete
    2. jdeegan536@yahoo.com23 December 2021 at 16:49

      A BLESSED AND MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL.

      Delete
  2. PLAGUED

    How he had obtained the AWSM sniper rifle and training in its use is another tale … woven of serendipitous and bloody threads.

    It was enough that he had, and had been pressed to do so by the oppression of 10 years of not being able to share a loving touch; police rousting those who dared the contagion.

    The month in prison for kissing his grandchild had been the last straw, the last goosing edict which had sent him over the edge.

    He checked the wind velocity by the flags on the Downing Street façade and whispered, ‘Do not go gentle…’

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Superb opening line, Perry - and chilling finale.

      Delete
    2. Covers the slow slide into dystopia very well!

      Delete
    3. Really loved the phrasing of the first line with 'woven of serendipitous and bloody threads.'

      Delete
    4. Now that I've read this, I want to hear the other tale of how he got the rifle and trained in its use. Great tale, Perry.

      Delete
    5. Excellent example of how enforced seclusion has its own consequences. It also has an unfortunate ring of our current global situation.

      Delete
    6. such precise and carefully chosen words build a picture it's hard to put to one side.

      Delete
  3. Very worthy top spot last week, David. And as for Antonia's work and consistency, that is always worth a mention. Nicely done all round.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Congrats, David, and nicely done Antonia! And thank you for the welcome back. :)

      Delete
    2. Thank you. Only 2 out of 3 of the serials tonight, there;'s nothing I can condense enough going on in the alternative world right now.

      Delete
  4. [Threshold 376]

    Luck – if such it could be called – was with us. The arrows, over-heavily-fletched with goose feathers, lost forward momentum, causing them to drop, blunt-end first. A sudden, gusting smoke-blurred wind caused an inter-weaving of the slender shafts, creating a wooden blanket which gently caged our would-be assassins.
    Delighted by the apparent magic I clapped, earning Raven's sardonic amusement.
    'When that catches fire, they'll be waffled. Not a pretty sight. What we need to do is leave, and quickly. Where d'you think the quad bikes are garaged?'
    'Over there.' I pointed to a pointed arch. Raven nodded appreciation and set off.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That is a neat trick... a man of many talents, Raven

      Delete
    2. It does sound like a very handy skill and impressive to witness! Loved the phrasing of the cage's description too.

      Delete
    3. Off to another venture on the quad bike. You do transitions so well, Sandra. I enjoyed the arrows loosing steam, and dropping, blunt end first.

      Delete
    4. I was wondering if those quad bikes would make another appearance. The image of an arrow that is "over-heavily-fletched with goose feathers" is absolutely priceless.

      Delete
    5. quad bikes are always good for a thriller, and here they are ready to play a major role, I should think. So many twists and turns!

      Delete
  5. Goosey Goosey Gander Whither Dost Thou Wander?

    The goose came weaving frantically through the crowded High Street. Honking, neck outstretched, legs churning. A shopkeeper tried to lure it gently into his doorway. But it wasn’t for luring. People tried to grab it. It led them a merry chase beneath the Christmas bunting. Not even pausing for a moment when it reached the inter-dimensional curtain draped before the multi-storey carpark.
    The chase passed through, helter skelter.
    ‘Fire up the ovens,’ said the leader of the gargantuan turkeys waiting on the other side to capture them in nets. ‘And let the festivities commence.’

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Vivid, and Dickensian, that image of the panicked goose (with good reason)

      Delete
    2. An imaginative piece packed with excellent phrasing. I loved the line 'But it wasn’t for luring' (so much implied there!), as well as the 'inter-dimensional curtain draped before the multi-storey carpark.'

      Delete
    3. Turkeys cooking geese, an interesting concept. Very entertaining, David.

      Delete
    4. jdeegan536@yahoo.com20 December 2021 at 21:32

      Congrats on last week's winning entry, David! This week's moves briskly along to a humorous conclusion.

      Delete
    5. Oh what a marvellous twist. So very creative with the prompts. Reminded me once of a cut-out I once saw outside a Chick-fil-A where a cow was holding a sign that read: "Eat more chicken." Excellent example of an out-of-the-box interpretation.

      Delete
    6. Love this, David! Your usual flare for finding the unusual no matter what the prompt words!

      Delete
  6. Engrossing excerpt with wonderful research.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Promise

    Goose feathers fill the air like snow, cocooning our giggles in downy white. Our fingers tangle, tighten, promises whispered to stay friends forever. Gentle Gretal presses questions through the door, afraid of the mess we’ve left behind.

    “I don’t want to go.” Mellie’s eyes gleam like sapphires as she wraps the ruined pillowcase over her hair, pulling the linen taut like a priestess’ shroud.

    It’s my turn to be brave, knowing. “You’ll be back. One year’s Weaving, or two. We’ll both be ladies by then.”

    Her crooked smile shines. “Promise?”

    “Promise.” But my oath doesn’t feel true.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "cocooning our giggles in downy white" a true delight, as is this tale of the end of innocence ( and love the use of "weave")

      Delete
    2. I loved "presses questions through the door" - very evocative

      Delete
    3. Nice, Holly. I think many a young love starts with an innocent pillow fight. Oh, to have a few minutes with Gentle Gretal, if she'd talk. that is.

      Delete
    4. There was a beautiful sense of innocence incorporated into this piece, which was totally charming in creation and execution.

      Delete
    5. so many images in this, uit needed a few reads, no hard work then...

      Delete
  8. Sign Of The Times

    The rhythmic goose-stepping parade, so precise in meticulous cadence, might have been executed by clockwork soldiers.

    But it was not.

    The fluttering banner, recognizable icon woven into the bold fabric of the flag, might have been a promise of good fortune and well-being.

    But it was not.

    The art of gentle persuasion might have been included in the approved manifesto.

    But.....


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. What might have been indeed - sometimes things are as bleak as they seem...

      Delete
    2. This sounds like something that might happen in a country far away, I hope. What a great use of the prompts.

      Delete
    3. Really love the flow of this with the repetition, as it reinforces the grim feeling throughout.

      Delete
    4. jdeegan536@yahoo.com23 December 2021 at 16:46

      What powerful easy-to-see images you created in this, Patricia. Very well done!

      Delete
    5. this is so cleverly done I stand back in admiration!

      Delete
  9. Extra strength to this added by the repetitive march of the refrain.

    ReplyDelete
  10. jdeegan536@yahoo.com20 December 2021 at 17:20

    GOOD SAMARITAN

    The man, naked and covered with blood and dirt, suddenly appeared in the glow of my headlights. He was weaving drunkenly along the backwoods road like a wounded goose. I stopped beside him and rushed to his side. Eyes wide with fear, he babbled incoherently as I opened the passenger’s side door. Initially he resisted my efforts to get him in my car, but a bit of gentle encouragement persuaded him.

    There was no need to ask him what had happened to leave him in such a dreadful state. I just had to kill him more thoroughly and rebury him.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I suppose I'd walk like a wounded goose too if I'd been unsuccessfully killed and buried. Something tells me the killer will get it right this time. Nice, Jim.

      Delete
    2. Oooh I was not expecting that end! Thanks to all the murder mysteries I've read, I used to drive a very dark stretch of road as a teenager convinced someone was going to run out into the street in front of me.

      Delete
    3. Now we're talking true horror. This would make a perfect short film in a horror anthology. Loved the shock value.

      Delete
    4. look at the response to this one! You've captured so much in such a short block of words!

      Delete
  11. Ellis 024

    More blue lights, and sirens now too.

    “Come on,” Kurt said, threw a couple of twenties onto the table and grabbed his coat. There was a crowd starting to gather, cars slewed in a barrier in front of the war memorial; Kurt wove his way around people and puddles and I did my best to keep up. The rain had gentled to a cold, damp drizzle.

    Jasper was directing the scene – taping up, shouting for SOCO and tents. At the bottom of the memorial was a dead girl. Entrails spread out like those tree pictures at the café. Instant goosebumps.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A grizzly crime scene, indeed. My favorite kind, at least in the form of fiction, which you do well.

      Delete
    2. Well that is a nasty scene. I hope they find the killer soon!

      Delete
    3. "Gentled rain" and spread entrails - goosebumps unsurprising.

      Delete
    4. jdeegan536@yahoo.com21 December 2021 at 16:48

      A monster of a killer is afoot. How well you describe him without actually describing him.

      Delete
    5. Very nicely done with excellent conjurings of a crime scene. What a picture....entrails spread out like tree pictures. Delicious shiver.

      Delete
    6. perfect crime writing, leaving me wanting more!

      Delete
  12. Flattery Will Get You...

    He took them under his wing, the chosen homely and superfluous tagalong wallflowers. He was a true gentleman with charming manners and complimentary honeyed hokum. He made them feel special and desirable.

    He was a dream-weaver, but it's impossible to make a silk purse from a sow's ear and he provided their services only to the lower class clientele who weren't overly fussy when it came to appearance. These ladies of the evening loved him unconditionally and considered it an honour to hand over every penny of their earnings.

    He called them his Gooseberry Tarts.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh how bitterly perfect a name for them!

      Delete
    2. Oh Patricia, you've hit a home run. It may be the world's oldest profession, but it's never been written like this.

      Delete
    3. An enthralling mini sealed with a sweet punchline.

      Delete
    4. The scornful hatred of the name underlining hIs dsidain.

      Delete
    5. jdeegan536@yahoo.com21 December 2021 at 16:44

      What a marvelous little tale this is, Patricia - a very enjoyable read!

      Delete
    6. such a delicately written piece with such a sharp cutting ending, the contrast is striking.

      Delete
  13. Fortunately, it’s not just for the money…

    The anthology writer walked into a bar and shot the cuffs on his goose weave blazer.

    “My first ever royalty check,” he said, beaming, waving it under the barkeep’s nose.

    “This is for just over a pound,” the barkeep said. “Is that like a Euro?”

    “Kind of. I think they went their own way on that. Drinks all around!”

    “Uh, you don’t have enough for your own drink,” the barkeep said, gently.

    “Make it a water, then, until I call my agent.”

    “Do you even have an agent?”

    “That’s it, I’m leaving.” The anthology writer stalked off, head held high.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. LOL - Were you following me? Deliciously funny.

      Delete
    2. jdeegan536@yahoo.com21 December 2021 at 16:41

      Some people don't understand the value of a royalty check - despite the amount. I, too, would have stormed out of that bar.

      Delete
    3. Nobody can incorporate the humour into a short tale quite like you, John. This was a John Howe Classic.

      Delete
  14. Cripplegate Junction/Part 267 - Every Picture Tells A Story

    Unable to make a decision regarding which board game to play with Alice and Christopher, Miss Constance suggested something from Perrault's Tales of Mother Goose. Christopher wasn't keen but Alice hugged herself in delight.

    Constance turned the pages while Alice squealed at the pictures coloured in shades of gentle pastel...Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and Tom Thumb. The little girl was spoiled for choice.

    Beyond the carriage window, the woven fabric of a vanishing Cripplegate Junction unravelled further with every passing second and there was still no sign of Constance's brother, George.

    Could she truly bring herself to leave without him?

    --------------------------------------------------------
    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.
    ----------------------------------------------------------

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think not - this looks like (very welcome) procrastination!

      Delete
    2. My withdrawal symptoms have subsided. Love that Cripplegate.

      Delete
    3. More Cripplegate, please. I just realised how much I'd missed it!

      Delete
  15. ORIGIN STORY

    Eventually Mary rose from her ministrations.

    ‘Sally said something about you and Una before she passed out.’

    ‘Her name is Frida. Yes, I’m her mother – got involved onboard with some guy called Goose.’

    Mary and Colm shared a look which said ‘Topgun’.

    Colm turned away, grinning.

    ‘Onboard?’ Mary queried.

    ‘Esbjerg ferry.’

    ‘So you’re Dan–’

    ‘Norwegian. I used to write for Blyttia.’

    Mary stared blankly.

    ‘It’s a botanical journal,’ Bergdis explained in a gently condescending tone.

    ‘Quite the story you weave,’ Colm interjected, wary of Mary’s temper when patronized. ‘So … Frida was born–’

    ‘Of this new world ... yes.’

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And quite the beguiling story you weave too, Perry!

      Delete
    2. jdeegan536@yahoo.com21 December 2021 at 23:42

      The below is above as well for John.

      Delete
    3. Well done, Perry. The new world seems to be relatively young here. If only they knew what was to come.

      Delete
    4. Beautifully executed in the exchange of conversation. I love it when that works....and this worked.

      Delete
    5. jdeegan536@yahoo.com23 December 2021 at 16:39

      Great use of dialog to tell a very engaging tale, Perry.

      Delete
    6. I love the way you write in characterisics from the person by a quick reference in a sentence. It takes skill..

      Delete
  16. jdeegan536@yahoo.com21 December 2021 at 16:30

    Some people just don't understand - despite the amount - how valuable a royalty check is. I, too, would have stormed out of that bar.

    ReplyDelete
  17. TEST...tried to upload an episode of "Kursaal" and it wouldn't "stick." Checking to see if this will.....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, the episode still won't "stick." Don't know why. I'll have to try again later. :(

      Delete
    2. Still a "no go." Don't know what the deal is. Maybe I can get Sandra to post it for me until the problem gets sorted.

      Delete
    3. Maybe try posting it as a reply to this message?

      Delete
  18. From Patricia, who is being thwarted by Blogger:

    Kursaal (Episode Two Hundred Thirty Six) - Upon Reflection

    Following the trail of Archon's discarded skin, Primrose Lee and her cousin, Apollonia, gently escorted Mrs. Pepperdyne to where identical twin girls had materialized within the shadow of the trees.

    Mrs. Pepperdyne stared at the children. Were these her lost little ones who had once played "Duck Duck Goose" with irrepressible enthusiasm, weaving in-and-out their circle of friends while giggling with innocent laughter?

    The eyes that returned her gaze were vacant and heartless, revealing no shred of awareness or affection.

    With welling tears, Mrs. Pepperdyne whispered into the stale void of despair.

    "Those girls are not my daughters!"
    --------------------------------------------------------
    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: Archon (the Snake), Primrose Lee, Apollonia and Mrs. Pepperdyne, as well as her Twin Daughters (Lucy and Libby), have all featured in previous episodes.
    --------------------------------------------------------

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Stuff of nightmares, Patricia, simply and effectively done.

      Delete
    2. Intrigue abound here. The girls have been on the verge of appearing for quite a while, and when they do, it's not as we hoped. No wonder Mrs. Pepperdine is in the stale void of despair.

      Delete
  19. jdeegan536@yahoo.com22 December 2021 at 16:27

    'eyes that returned her gaze were vacant and heartless'... tells the unfortunate story, Sandra. Very nice!

    ReplyDelete
  20. Many thanks to Sandra for posting the Kursaal episode on my behalf due to Blogger being a pain in the patoot. Hopefully the problem will resolve and I'll be able to publish more than a line or two very soon.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Apologies - Julia pointed out my earlier version held none of the prompt words. This hopefully, has succeeded in doing so (but, sorry, I've had to delete coents too).

    Change of focus [453]

    A prickling of goose bumps accompanied Philly's recollection of their gently woven, but rudely interrupted just-woken, sex. So sweet, she was unable to recall whether or not a condom had been used. Aleks' innocent "bed makes babies" no misconception. Certainly Pettinger, thanks to his near-naked door-step arrival, had greater reason to fear immediate consequences – and the switched-off phone entirely down to her – but a nine-month wait for what some termed a 'bundle of joy' never part of her Life Plan.)
    Nor had it included attaining the status of "an honest woman". Not even with John Pettinger.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "Misconception"...had to chuckle at that little suggestion. I didn't get around to reading the original version of this, but I don't see how it could have been any better.

      Delete
  22. At least it appears as though Blogger will allow me to post replies without having to utilize a third party...!!!!! Thankful for small mercies, I guess.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Stop the Week

    ‘It’s like this…’ Shaun said, about to recite a list of cars which became ill for whatever reason, feeling neglected as cars don’t get Covid, perhaps? So there has been much rushing about with the other cars, geese following the gander as the children go from school to home to babysitters and out again… it’s time to be gentle with ourselves! The weave of the brightness of Christmas decorations has lifted us even as we tangle with the tools… one small spade has gone, that’s it so far. The streets are empty but they will recover. They always do.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And Christmas comes to the Isle of Wight!!!
      Nicely done, Antonia. I was searching for a way to incorporate "goose/gander" into a tale and failed miserably. Glad I didn't pursue the thought now. I couldn't have outshone your depiction.

      Delete
    2. Glad the lights are brightening the chore of car decisions, and hope thereafter there'll be a wealth of gardeners seeking tools.

      Delete
  24. Your world has gone crazy. Gone from shielding and worrying and creating a world of darkness woven around with strange plastic clothing and ventilators to screaming headlines that the variant is not as lethal as they said. And they expect you to follow them like a flock of geese trekking after their owner, the one with the food. But… that problem is put to one side while you worry about the cost of fuel… I would offer you one word to help you decide whether to avoid the vaccination or not – this from the lips of a scientist – Thalidomide.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Some depth to this posting, Antonia. Some food for thought here, that's for sure.

      Delete
  25. Sorry for the above deletions, but I was attempting to sort out my Blogger posting problems. Seems that the issue is purely on the Kursaal episode that I tried to upload this week. Everything else I tried to upload stayed put. Fingers crossed that next week will be a much less aggravating process.

    ReplyDelete
  26. technology is a nightmare. I've been trying to re-register for online banking... didn't get there even with the bank's help on the phone!!! Do you think the banks are talking to Blogger to make our lives even more difficult????

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. When it comes to modern technology and its seemingly endless glitches, there is very little that would surprise me, Antonia.

      Delete
  27. I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday season and may the coming year prove to be better than the last one.

    ReplyDelete
  28. sending out good vibes for a great holiday season and a strength and all the courage you need to cope with the year to come. Pandemics, they tell me, last three years... then we kick them out.

    ReplyDelete