As seen from my window. A gusty Friday morning, trees tossing orange and green, leaves flying, grey clouds heading eastwards in a hurry. A good day to stay in and write. And re-read last week’s offerings with a view to naming ‘winner’. This week, having applauded Antonia’s epic entry, I pick Jim’s A DETOUR – PART III as much for its future promise as current entertainment, and thank you all for your comments and participation.
Entries by midnight Thursday November 3rd, new words posted Friday 4th
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.
A good choice Sandra. Well done, Jim.
ReplyDeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 203
ReplyDeleteCinereus ran a grubby paw over the dark spot in the centre of his pebble. ‘Part of the marking on this stone is a symbol of A.S. P, meanin’ ol ’Iron paw has a claw in it but as fer the rest, I remember a mark like it from when I was a young’un. Can’t think of where but seen it forged in the walls of some shadowy place. Dunno what it means but it’s important.’
‘Don’t fink he remembers what ‘appened an hour ago, let alone years,’ smirked a dirt-dusted Aardvark.
With a thwack, Cinereus’s staff sent him reeling.
Well-earned come-uppance - and loved the 'thwack'.
DeleteThat smart-mouth Aardvark may now think twice before opening his maw.
Deletegood instalment, with natural interaction going on, you've picked a more radical one than the rats!
DeleteTangled Roots of War
ReplyDeleteIt took an hour for them to spot the interloper. He should have been obvious, reeking of mulch, vines of ivy entwining his limbs. His diminutive stature a definite indication that he was one of the wee folk. But the opera house was crowded. It wasn’t till the lights went up for intermission that he was noticed. He raised a dagger, claimed it had been forged in the fires of the Netheryon. The fat cop shot him with a greasy bullet. Deep within the gloom of the greenwood Pan was incensed. Our descent into war became inevitable.
'Interloper' the perfect word! I've no doubt the war will become bloodier yet.
DeleteIntermission, it seems, came at an inappropriate time.
Deleteviolence in a different arena but just as nasty - this is one intriguing story, David.
Deletel really like the flow and imagery in this David especially the 'greasy bullet .'
Delete[Threshold 411]
ReplyDeleteSupine being no position from which to forge respect Raven, demonstrating admirable pliancy, rose to his feet. Extended a hand to raise me, then turned the two of us to face our prurient chorus. Whatever gods ruled this place, they – and the hour – were on our side: golden beams of the now sinking sun streamed across the desert, spotlighting us in such a way as to imply magnificence; perchance a coronation.
From the sudden silence, their shamed shuffling, I guessed they’d interpreted their god’s message as signifying the importance of our status. Hoped at least they’d throw a welcoming banquet.
Pruient chorus... what a great (and telling) phrase!
Deletesome wonderful descriptions here!
DeleteI do hope they do get a friendly place to spend a little time but doubt they will.
Delete[Change of focus 489]
ReplyDeleteThat question, “Where?” Pettinger felt he’d been repeating for hours. Hours spent trying to forge mutual trust with Philly’s brother. To maintain it with Philly herself. But there was only so much patience to be expended when Aleks’ safety might be compromised.
All the while they’d been eating, Pettinger’s phone had pinged with incoming messages. Hoping for one from Philly he’d spotted only Ben’s name. Ben, who’d first alerted him to London’s arrival; to the existence of other brothers whose plans for Philly didn’t include marrying him. As he heard the front door open, Ben’s latest message read Bad news!
seems inevitable that there would be bad news, in Pettinger's world nothing is ever straightforward in any direction.
Deletei have to agree Antonia, having a hurdle for Pettinger to combat keeps me hooked.
DeleteA DETOUR – PART IV
ReplyDeleteEach girl smiled a bloody smile while twirling by Arthur, who with an eerie combination of awe and terror stood rooted to a spot mere feet away. That he was trapped in a dream forged by something unfathomable flirted with his mind but couldn’t gain purchase.
Suddenly the outer circle broke and flowed around him like a swiftly moving stream. He now faced the inner circle of girls, all of whom had their backs to him.
For a moment only - then in unison they turned.
Even in his darkest hour, Arthur had never been so totally consumed by dread.
' flirted with his mind but couldn’t gain purchase' a brilliant description.
ReplyDeletePoor Arthur - but then, he got involved, or can he be blamed for what's going down and ... let the dread take over, the rest of it is too complicated for words and will only get worse!!
ReplyDeletemore rats...
ReplyDeleteThe forge stood solid on its foundations. The owner and forgemaster had seen many a soldier go to war, seen the battered bodies which came back, knowing to his very rat-like soul that he had escaped many a conflict by taking the lowest route out of town. He might not be spotted if it was murky enough at twilight. This soldier walked with rat supporters who would not go with him, for sure not! But he would reach the town boundaries and then escape – perhaps – and join the rat army gathering outside the Forge door.
A brief, but solidly-built scene, and a soliloquy on morals.
Delete