Is something no-one can deny (unless they insist on digital) and this week, unreal or not, Antonia gets the accolade for her untitled description of vaults and money fountains. Odd how long childhood dreams persist. Less odd – positively excellent – is the persistence with which you all turn up to contribute to this tiny place of Prediction: you are what keeps it alive.
Words for the coming week (the first of which I read in
in one of Helen Simpson’s excellent short stories): demulcent mobile wax
Entries by midnight Thursday April 27th, new words scheduled Friday 28th
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.
Your entry was an excellent choice, Antonia!
ReplyDeleteApples from Eden
ReplyDeleteAn exotic treat from a far off planet. Appearance of an apple. Texture of cherry. Flavour of peach. A global sensation. Merchant shuttles poured through the wormholes, holds bursting with bounty.
Its initial infection blossomed as an ulcer on the roof the mouth. The irritation eased by a demulcent gel devised by one of the big pharma companies.
But it couldn't halt the progress. Soon our skins acquired a coating of wax, making us far less mobile. We bask like lizards beneath our dying sun. Aliens on our own world. Paradise lost through the medium of forbidden fruit.
Deliciously, devilishly clever this, David.
DeleteA very creative idea, David, and so well presented!
DeleteTHE VOICE
ReplyDeleteA soft, demulcent sound - a voice - flowed through the confusion crowding my mind like a gentle stream caressing rough terrain. It was soothing, and it settled me… somewhat. Still, my predicament remained. I was buried in darkness.
Then the voice, benign and assuasive, urged me to find a light switch. Despite feeling strangely weak, I was mobile enough to locate one. The light informed me I was in a bathroom staring at a pale, waxen face in a mirror. The face smiled; a soft, demulcent voice flowed smoothly from its mouth.
“Pick up the handgun beside the sink.”
Creepy indeed! Not a scene to dwell upon for too long.
Delete[Threshold 435]
ReplyDeleteEven for a self-appointed king I was not minded to give away my name, but understood the need to demonstrate subservience before a crowd of suddenly-become subjects. My smile demulcent, even as treasonable mutiny waxed, I murmured in my best borrowed Shakespearian, ‘My liege, my name is for you to bestow. I humbly await your decision.’
His face mobile with a mischief ill-fitting for a king, he gave it brief thought before displaying an education I assumed he lacked. ‘Desdemona. So take care should you think to betray me.’
Change of focus [513]
ReplyDeleteArriving home, Pettinger felt tension ease from him as molten wax runs down a candle, its effect demulcent. He recalled Philly’s announcement of her pregnancy, and that he needed to apologise for the churlishness of his reception of the news. He blamed the distancing effect of learning of it via his mobile, rather than face to face. Checking her face, as she poured milk for Aleks and counted out three biscuits, he found himself suddenly overwhelmed with love and delight. Green eyes flooding with unexpected tears, he moved to hug her, simultaneously reaching for Aleks.
‘I’m a lucky man.’