And, yes, I admit, despite strict adherence with my own word count, I don’t do the necessary cut and paste to check others. And on this occasion, I’m accepting Anonymous Dave’s explanation he meant to substitute ‘logs’ with the required ‘triangle’ because the ‘terrible fruit’ of the described scene gave such a kick to the imagination.
Thank you all for a week of high class entertainment.
Entries by midnight Thursday August 18th, new words posted Friday 19th
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.
i agree Sandra, 'terrible fruit' really did get the imagination juices flowing with all kinds of nastiness. Well done Dave.
ReplyDeleteOn a separate note there is work on the wiring bits and bobs going on in my close, digging up the road and moving overhead wiring too - and they are getting close to my home so i may have intermittent loss of the internet this week - just incase i don't get to post or see anything further have fun with this weeks prompt words .
DeleteCongrats, Dave, on yet another fine entry!
Delete(Dave) Thank you all for your kindness and thoughtfulness. apparently, I have to have a BLOG in order to comment with my name now?
ReplyDeleteSorry, Dave, but Blogger works to rules known only unto itself, and whether or not it will allow you to be identified by name is a fluctuating one. I can only suggest you do as you have above, but keep trying, as others have found their way back to being identified.
DeleteI shall endevour to persrvere
DeleteHouse Rules
ReplyDeleteWelcome to the Satanic Spa.
Once you are naked and covered in ash stolen from the local crematorium your eyelids and lips will be stitched together. You will see nothing and say nothing. But you will hear the screams of the human sacrifices and the ancient ritual incantations that accompany them. You will sense the demonic presence of the entities that will be summoned.
To avoid burning in the fires of Hell read the small print on the booking form.
Whips for self-flagellation are available at reception for a reasonable rental fee.
Sign in blood when you are ready.
Sign me up... or maybe not. Very clever, David.
DeleteOne to avoid; well-detailed nastiness as ever, David.
DeleteSounds like a nice place for masochists to frequent.
DeleteAntonia: like this a lot, serious stuff - very nasty and very well condensed into the instalment limit.
DeleteFirst time homeowner
ReplyDeleteThe welcome wagon passed him by completely - rolled through a stop sign and hightailed it. So much for equal housing.
A little girl stared, mouth agape. The nanny scooped her up, running and screaming.
A police officer cruised by and pretended not to see him.
He stood at the curb, ashen faced, stitched forehead throbbing. His neck bolts threatened to come unscrewed, but he checked that, not wanting to lose his head.
He pulled out his cell and speed-dialed the Doctor. It was time to go home.
Clever how that final line injects sadness; sympathy
Delete'not wanting to lose his head'... in this context, John, very clever, as was your entire tale.
Deleteabsolutely brilliant!
DeleteConsequences
ReplyDeleteAfter the final conflict came muted, lifeless, peace.
Thick ash fell steadily year after year. Sometimes it mixed with acid rain, falling like black tears on the world, and sometimes it lessened, drifting like fine specks of dust in the wind, but it never stopped.
Deserted roads silently stitched the land together, holding the earth in broken sutures leading into decay.
In some places jagged and soot-stained, welcome signs still teetered at outer limits but no-one survived to return to the towns or cities where black, clinker-cracked, buildings, shadowed the skyline and the cindery bones of the fallen lay unburied.
Your use of 'stitch' is what I hoped to achieve - beautifully done.
DeleteI agree with Sandra about your use od 'stitch,' Terrie. You have such a creative mind!
Deletedeep sorrow at the silence and the solemnity of the falling ash, loved it!
DeleteNice, Terrie. My kind of story.
DeleteHis face was ashen, but for the most part, calm. The Dr. finished the last stitch with a welcome flourish, and well-practised knot.
ReplyDelete"There you go, son. Try to stay upright next time. Bikes just seem to work better that way" he said with a warm chuckle.
Sammy still didn't say anything. He certainly didn't tell the Dr. the reason he fell, that he had seen his Mother kissing a man behind a window in their house. And there was no way he was going to tell his Dad what he saw, not while he was sewing his cut chin back together. No, that could wait until dinner.
Sammy smiled a little at that though, which hurt like Hell.
A lovely, well-drawn vignette!
Delete'that could wait until dinner'... very crafty, David. I didn't see that coming. NICE!
Deletenice one, Dave, some lovely phrases here which are a joy to read.
DeleteSammy is in a touchy situation, but he seems to have a plan. Enjoyable read.
DeleteThank you all!
DeleteChange of focus [480]
ReplyDeleteThe Cossack dance ringtone of Ben’s phone, uploaded in honour of Pettinger’s Khakbethian ancestry, made both men jump. As Ben was about to press Connect, Henry’s rang, Pettinger now calling him. No welcome, just an urgent, ‘Where’s Ben?’
‘Sat beside me.’
‘Put him on –‘
Grinning at the old-fashioned term, Henry did as asked.
To Ben, voice scarlet with anger, ashen stitched with fear, ‘You sent Aleks home?’
‘Aye. I said – ‘ He’d rung to tell him so.
‘He’s not arrived –‘
‘Philly left ¬five minutes ago. P’raps –‘
‘She’s not answering her phone – ¬I think they’ve taken him.‘
‘Who?’
oh how frustrating, ending with who? Now I have to wait...
DeleteI was with a group of people once when a woman accidently called her husband, who was present. Elton John's "The Bitch is Back" rang out of his phone for all to hear. Pretty funny... for the rest of us anyway.
DeleteAnyway, the ringtone thing really set the mood for me. Well done.
Thanks for that story, John. An apt choice of ringtone is one I try to make good use of for my characters, even though I've never learnt how to attach one to my own phone)
Delete[Threshold 404]
ReplyDeleteThe clouds approached obliquely; we steered into the wind, towards where we thought the rain would fall, praying their ever-darkening – from pale ash to the black of well-charred wood – indicated a quantity welcome to whatever civilisation lay ahead. That they, unlike us, had better containers to hold water than the poorly-stitched leather saddle covers and rust-holed panniers we’d identified as less-than-desirable possibilities.
As they darkened to indigo, the sky beyond glowed citron. Rumbles of thunder were heard. Good news if it meant more rain, but bad for us in the wide-open desert – did rubber tyres really insulate from lightning strike?
This is good stuff, Sandra! Such a nice mood of apprehension you create. Great use of the prompts!
DeleteBeautiful descriptions in this. I could feel the storm coming.
DeleteTHE CHOSEN – PART II
ReplyDeleteThe Reader pompously walked the triangle of the Chosen. He paused before Nestean, who occupied the seventh chair, and frowned, giving Nestean pause.
His walk-around completed, the Reader strode to the triangle’s center. “I welcome you. It is time to reveal the chosen one of you, the Chosen. The number stitched upon your scroll determines the order of your announcement. Number one, open your scroll and show the word inscribed.”
At the right corner of the triangle, a young girl’s face turned to ash. Her hands trembled as she opened the scroll and held it aloft.
“Life,” the Reader shouted.
more waiting to find out what happens next... like it!
DeleteThe Reader seems to be playing a high stakes game in the triangle. Very intriguing. I'm not sure what number I'd prefer to have on my scroll, possibly 12. Then you'd get that feeling of relief if the death card came early.
DeleteComplicated tension here, not knowing what to wish for.
DeleteAntonia - more rats, they won't let me be...
ReplyDeleteSometimes the Hunger takes over…
The first rat pushed the depleted arm aside and wiped his whiskers down the dead man’s jacket.
The second rat looked up, dripping fluid all over the part of the corpse not covered in ash. It seemed to be corrosive, the stitches on the cuff were giving way.
The first rat nodded at his companion and coughed loudly. “Anyone want some of this? You’re welcome.”
The second rat wrinkled a few facial muscles before saying ‘what the hell – let me at it!”
The first rat went on coughing…
This is in a class of its own, Antonia
DeleteThe first rat seems to be setting the second rat up for a tainted meal. Pretty gruesome stuff, love it.
Delete