Distractions
There’s nothing like a weekend away, discussing the crafting of crime novels to ensure a mind gone off in several non-routine directions. Plus I had the shock of a publisher actually asking me to send her the first four novels in my ‘Love triangles with murder’ series. (It came to nothing, as I suspected it would, my writing style quite different to their in-house style.) And then to return to a double helping of prompted pieces – thank you Jim for your excellent words – and a wealth of 'dillo tales, for which, notwithstanding the enjoyment of reading the others, I have to thank Terrie for.
Entries by midnight Thursday March 9th, new words Friday 10th.
Glad you are enjoying the 'Dillo tales, Sandra. Some weeks the ideas
ReplyDeletejust flow easily out of my head ... other times i have to give the ol' brain a good squeeze :-) although a good chug of baileys usually helps.
The Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 217
The rat broke off its mournful moaning to answer Nigel’s question.‘ Dunno matie , I never gets told these things. Never even see Jagah.
I gets me orders from Mr Venice, an’ he gets his from the weasel-spawn.
Nasty lot they are to be sure.’
‘What are your orders then?’
The rat’s voice wavered and crackled wetly,’ scouting out you lot and reportin’ back wiv numbers,’ it shuddered, coughed and vomited blood.
‘How many of you vermin follow Venice an’ these weasels, and where are they holed up?’
The rat stiffened.
‘Forget it,’ whispered Atlas, ‘it’s dead.’
I'm imagining 'Crackled wetly', and squirming.
DeleteAntonia - says :you've given us some truly natural dialogue - not eay to do.
DeleteTHE WAY OF WAR
ReplyDeleteThe condition of our cargo made moving through the trench difficult. Despite orders to be swift, proceeding quickly with bodies swollen by Death was impossible. Instead, we struggled along on all fours like crippled crabs. But knowing we couldn’t waver, we labored on, groaning from the weight on our backs.
Overhead, shells exploded across the sky like forged fireworks.
My comrades and I finally reached the pit at the end of the trench and dumped the bodies upon scores of others. We mourned a moment
then turned to make yet another trip.
Such is the way of war in 1917.
So vivid, and all too transferable.
DeleteAntonia here: the war images are always ghostly, ghastly and infnitely sad. Thanks for a heart stopping piece
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 218
ReplyDeleteMoloch, laughing, slithered, snake-like, around the curve of tunnel. Two more thorny lizards slunk alongside him.
A shiver of expectation rippled through the rats.
The lead-rat wavered momentarily then lunged at Sarg who sidestepped its mistimed attack. Behind him rats forged forward in a raggle-taggle heap, spilling over the hidden pit as Moloch and his lizards skittered down the slope.
Fastening her teeth onto the lead-rat, Sarg tore out his throat, flung him into the dirt and bellowed at Moloch.
A mournful wailing of rats shredded the gloom-light as the pit gave way under the weight of rat bodies.
'Dillos' preparations horribly effective.
DeleteAntonia here: the rats are running free... they might horrify a lot of people but they do have their good points... perhaps...
DeleteSorrow
ReplyDeleteWavering at the edge of starlight, below a sunken net of sky,
The lady of Dark-Dreamtime sits and casts bright thorn-barbs from her eye.
Her dress is bound with suffering, her feet with bleeding scars,
About her hair, adorned with night, curl a million fire-forged stars.
Behind her back, a black-bone horn, tied with a strident thong,
Hangs, cold as rime, and holds the shrouds of ancient, mournful, song.
Her bow arm shines with frozen tears, her arrows burn with flame,
Her tombstone heart is motionless and Sorrow is her name.
Properly poetic this, Terrie - brilliantly done from the prompts.
DeleteThis, Terrie, is good stuff. Very good! Brilliant in fact!
DeleteAntonia here: with a shining example of how to write a short verse
DeleteChange of focus [506]
ReplyDeleteVanessa, so transparently eager to reignite what she believed memories too good to be mourned; to forge acquaintance with people clearly important to John Pettinger, was nevertheless alert enough – sensible of his antipathy – for her innate confidence to waver. Compromising, she addressed the boy, whose expression she read as merely curious – and lacking in ill-intent) – stating the obvious: ’You’ve definitely got your father’s gooseberry eyes!’
Philly, who’d often had (but never voiced) the identical thought, snorted with unwilling and near-treasonable laughter.
Aleks, laughing, was clearly delighted.
[Threshold 428]
ReplyDeleteBecoming conscious of the tickle of a wavering trickle running down my spine, it took a moment to identify it as blood from Indigo Eyes shattered nose. He’d pulled my shirt off my shoulders and was attempting to stem the flow whilst mourning the destruction of his once-handsome face. Sensing opportunity to forge a mutually satisfying friendship now long past, and while still nervous as to Raven’s likely reception – our appearance not exactly suggestive of a successful reconnaissance (at least of landscape!), I nevertheless twisted the throttle to speed up.
Antona here: oh, I can go with the ticke of a wavering trickle - very descriptive
DeleteIndigo Eyes had better work on his fighting skills instead of his appearance.
ReplyDeleteNo Exceptions
ReplyDeleteThe waver was clearly a forgery.
By Posthumous Decree every citizen was compelled to mourn the passing of the Great and Unrivalled Leader, Celestial Light of the Universe. There were to be no exceptions. Even for someone in possession of a document apparently signed by the mandatory five of the Hundred Wives in who’s Shadows we are all but Scuttling Insects.
'Weep into this vial,' said the guard. 'Allow the fealtyomometer to analyse the sincerity of your tears. Abandon all notions of a coming liberty. The Great and Unrivalled leader has many sons in his tribe of heirs. '
Antonia here: this is a worrying piece, it could so easily come into our lives.
Deletethe fealtyomometer... a great idea, David!
DeleteScary stuff, David, as ever, but (forgive me if I'm misinterpreting) shouldn't that be 'waiver'?
ReplyDeleteAntonia here: an almost secretive piece, which would stand a lot more re-reading.
DeleteAntonia here: we do business best when the custoner says 'do what you want, I don't know what would suit my house' and we're thinkig if he means that, if we get the freedom to do what we really want, no wavering, no mourning over the ones which wiill get thrown out, we at the forge could do the most superb wrought iron gates in town, with our depiction of a King Rat in two huge gates.
ReplyDeleteOh, I love the confident possibilities of this!
DeleteAntonia here: update, the brain scan came back,.no problms, the problem is we do need to know why my migraines are daily and getting worse...Just hoping Life changes for the better so it gets quieter, it mjght help!!
ReplyDeleteAtonia, hope they get it soon. And Life also.
DeleteDavid. You are right on the spelling. I got carried away with the plot 😲
ReplyDeleteMe too - another masterpiece.
Delete