I treated myself to today, well-knowing my excuse for reading them – 'research' – is as transparent as window glass. But it is fascinating how different books evoke different emotions, and I am in awe of those writers whose words keep me glued to my chair for the whole of an afternoon and evening, desperate to find out what happened, while simultaneously not wanting it to finish because I am enjoying it so much. Much bigger is the problem of where to store them all, because I frequently re-read books many times so don't pass many on.
As, indeed I read and re-read the Prediction posts, admiring of deft phrases and world-building. This week both winners are expert practitioners of either: Terrie, for SAS Diaries 186, and Holly, for 'Casual Distraction'
Words for the coming week: crude,
pudding, sorrow
Entries by midnight Thursday 7th April new words posted Friday 8th April
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
Congrats Terrie and Holly. Well deserved praise.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much! And congrats to Terrie, as well. :)
DeleteVERY WELL DONE to Holly and Terrie!
DeleteThank you for the vote this week Sandra and well done to Holly too.
Deletecongrats to our shining stars!
DeleteMemories
ReplyDeleteOne of my cleverest moves as a child was to pretend I detested tapioca pudding. I would don a sorrowful face and make crude retching noises when I swallowed, which prompted my mother to bestow healthy doses of the stuff as punishment.
I should mention I was punished often. Maybe three or four times a day. I was not a model child. My mother spent a good portion of her time making tapioca.
“You spray painted the refrigerator!” She would say. “It’s tapioca for you.”
Yes, I was quite the clever one. Now where did I put my insulin pen?
You indeed are the clever one, John! This is quite the amusing piece.
DeleteWhat a cruel mother.(And what odd tastes for a child)
DeleteI agree with Sandra, though it also seems like a lot of effort on the mother's part for punishment. Where does she find the time? :)
DeleteA strange story, John, good one, though!
DeleteRhyme-Time Gazette
ReplyDeleteIssue 1
It is with much sorrow that I, Peter Piper, roving reporter, (and keen pepper aficionado) report the demise of our dear friend L Lamb in a cruel act perpetrated by Old McDonald.
Little’s friend,Mary said, ‘He went for what can only be described crudely as “the chop” but that bastard, McDonald, sold him to the Pie-man and now he’s minced meat as well as chops.’
McDonald remains unavailable for comment.
Update - Pie-man places advert in Rhyme-Time Gazette extolling the wonderful flavour of his new line in lambs-tail puddings and pies.
Breaking news - Protest march planned outside Pie-shop.
Brave protesters!
DeleteA wonderfully creative entry, Terrie!
DeleteAs an eater of fine meats, I appreciate L. Lamb's sacrifice. Very clever, Terrie.
DeleteVery creative. :) I'd advise all the animals to take leave of McDonald's farm!
Deleteoh clever one, Terrie, were you and I on the same wavelength for a short time?
DeleteChange of focus [466]
ReplyDeleteBen Brickwood, Pettinger's sergeant appeared, Mock-sorrowfully, 'Aleks, you left your pudding. Thought you didn't want it, so I ate it –'
Probably just as well Aleks' scowling response was in Khakbethian – the mangled consonants implied a crudity Ben doubted would be welcome coming from the mouth of a thirteen-year-old. (On the other hand, he could just be saying, 'You're welcome, it wasn't to my taste.' )
Ben glanced at Philly , 'That true? You and the boss getting hitched?'
But her shoulder-shrugged, 'Apparently' didn't sufficiently clarify the situation. Ben came closer. Fiercely,
'Don't you go messing him about!'
'As if!'
The shoulder shrug is very interesting... where might this lead.
DeleteShoulder shrugs rarely help clarify a sutuation, but they can be convenient. Stepcart is in a tight spot, having to answer to Pettinger's peers. Nicely done.
DeleteCurious how cagey Philly is being. Seems like Ben is quite the loyal friend!
DeleteI sense trouble to come...
Deletetightly written, Sandra!
[Threshold 390]
ReplyDeleteNot sure we'd recognise a signal-emitting device, we ran our fingers into and over every likely nook and cranny of the quad bikes without success.
With a sorrowful expression I suspected was counterfeit, Raven said, 'At the risk of being accused of being crude, I think a fingertip search of our bodies is necessary. Seeking recently-stitched bumps below the skin,'
'You first, then –'
'Naturally, I always save the best for last. You'll be my pudding.'
'Let us then hope the aperitif is good enough – has sufficient stamina – to serve as main course as well, else pudding will be disappointed.
I'll have to remember that one... the fingertip search. Hopefully without disappointing the pudding.
DeleteIt is always good to save the best for last. :)
Deletemore intrigue...
DeleteThe Suet Crisis
ReplyDeleteHaggis, chieftain of the pudding race, had a sour look on his sonsie face. A shortage of suet was causing terrible sorrow across the simmering cauldrons of his fiefdom. A famine of flavour. The upstart Saveloy had styled himself Generalissimo. He was calling for a regime of a different skin. His goons were relentlessly grilling sausages to find out where their loyalties lay. A battalion of dumplings had been symbolically impaled on fork tines. Haggis felt he had no choice but to apply a crude solution. He assembled his roly-polys and ordered them to erect the Spotted Dick.
Oh, David, this cries out for cartoon illustration! I was laughing too hard to read by the end.
DeleteWhat a splendid assortment of colorful images, David. Well done!
DeleteJust one goody after the next. Loved the name Haggis. So appropriate.
DeleteLots of excellent phrasing. Especially loved 'A famine of flavour.'
DeleteLet David loose on a topic like this and yes, we end up laughing...
DeletePity Pudding [11]
ReplyDelete“They’re thieves,” Rach growls.
“And weasels!” That’s about Felicia’s crudest insult to date, and I pat her shoulder, grinning.
Aries’ second – a tall woman with a tattooed face – arches her eyebrows. “I’m confused. Are they goblins or weasels?”
“Goblins.” I cross my arms impatiently. “So? Have you seen them?”
“I hate to cause you sorrow, Maya, but we have not.” Aries inches closer. “May I suggest a visit to our encampment? We have pudding.”
“Pudding?”
“Aye. Dark chocolate from the Green Isle.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Pudding sounds lovely,” Vera cuts in. “And a bath. Unless you enjoy being filthy?”
I enjoyed the weasel exchange with Felicia. Is she the one who carries a perculator?
DeleteShe is. :)
DeleteA lot of grousing going on with these girls. Wonderful use of dialog, Holly.
DeleteThis sounds a very bitchy gathering.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Sandra. Sounds as though these gals don't get along.
DeleteDefinitely not all of them, especially when accommodations are less than desired. :)
DeleteTHE WORM VII: BACK TO THE HILL
ReplyDeleteGork crossed the footbridge of earth to the hill and took immediately to task. On his knees, he used his hands to shovel aside the rocks and moist, pudding-thick soil that filled Potter’s grave. Soon, sweat devoured his brow and his throat burned from the crude sounds he issued.
When the final rock popped free, the earth beneath collapsed and released a nauseating stench: a fetid, reeking odor that blurred his senses and ate into his skin. He pushed himself to his feet then stiffened at the sound of the wind’s sudden sorrowful lament.
Another sound. Something was not right
Such an assault on the senses... mostly smells. And then the sound at the end. Nice, Jim.
DeleteLess than pleasant scents. Very curious what he's hearing in the wind's 'sorrowful lament.'
Deletethe sense or smell is one often overlooked in stories, here it's like another character.
DeleteVery atmospheric, Jim.
ReplyDeletemusings
ReplyDeleteIn a fairy tale world there would be no sorrow, no crude attempts at making a pudding or even a pastry topped pie, no resorting to calling in the animal protection people. Instead, here I am madly waving my arms to frighten off a whole flock of blackbirds… because sometimes fairy tales have a habit of coming to real life…
Smooth as silk, and truly delightful, Antonia!
DeleteSuch a casually efficient use of the prompts, Antonia.
DeleteI liked Sandra's smooth as silk remark, which was apt for this piece.
DeleteThey do, don't they, and many fairy tales are quite a bit darker than what are usually shared with kids.
DeleteThe Mad Italian
ReplyDeleteWho happens to be more sad than mad this week. The film footage of the atrocities of the Russian soldiers, who feel no sorrow and it shows. Crude attempts made at times to cover up the desecration caused by their rampages do not work, the attempt has all the density of an overcooked pudding. It is good to see people smiling standing in the homes of their rescuers, but it is all tinged with deep sadness for the loss of everything.
I wish humankind was past these horrors.
DeleteMankind's fiercest enemy is himself. Very poignant, Antonia.
DeleteThe Italian is not alone in his sadness. Such an ordeal.
ReplyDelete