To what I remember as childhood reading; goblins and faeries making their appearances. Nevertheless I sense the joy of writing in every post, for which I thank you, and since I am, as ever, struggling to pick a ‘winner’ I’m declaring each of them as equal as the rest.
Words for the coming week: cruel destination guest
Entries by midnight Thursday22nd, new words and
winners Friday 23rd
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.
very easily confused, so I am... accept this one for this one which looks interesting...
ReplyDeleteThe candidate pushed his way through to the count, wearing a huge grin and every indication he had walked off with the glory of the high point of the night. It bothered a few people that our newest MP was likely to be a person capable of sweeping all before him with his census us totals… flashing the bright white teeth he seemed to achieve in this northern area where the water seems as hard as the granite it runs through… someone tied a tailored union jack, with clips to hold on the names, such was the speed and the attention the new boy in the houses of parliament was being given and realized, as if we did not know, not really… that the party had just been eaten up by the tall handsome man with the alligator smile… and it was too late for the constituents…
Interesting indeed, Antonia, and very visual.
DeleteI agree with you ,Sandra, very visual . I enjoyed the phrases 'water seems as hard as the granite it flows through' and 'the tall handsome man with the alligator smile '
DeleteThe Secret Armadillo Soldier (SAS) Diaries - entry 229
ReplyDeleteAs the cry flowed into a long scream, sharply falling into clipped silence, they battle stanced together, anxiously viewing every visible destination between themselves and the distant, toothy-tipped, bushy scrubland.
Apart from a heat-haze rising in the distance, nothing moved on the landscape until Nigel came creeping quietly through the undergrowth. Mossy tip-clawed a few paces behind.
‘What the feck is going on lads?’
Armi shook his head, ‘Dunno Nige, nuffin’ we can see.’
Nigel frowned, ‘chatter in camp is, the cruel bastards are probably tormentin’ some poor unlucky guest but we’re all accounted for, so not one of us.’
This is wide-screen cinematic in my mind - stunningly done!
DeleteAs always, Terrie, you transform words into such clear, vivid pictures. You make the reader's job easy.
DeleteI love the dialogue and movements which carry these creatues into more real life than most people would do. Mossy tip-clawed, I mean, how sharp is this writing1
ReplyDelete[Threshold 440]
ReplyDeleteWe had arrived at this, to me, yet-unnamed desert destination – degree and nature of its civilisation yet to be discovered – as would-be guests, in need of food and drink and hope of rest. Somehow, while I absent, on reconnaissance with Indigo Eyes, Raven had got himself appointed some sort of ruler, apparently willingly on their part. Not doubting Raven’s power, his ability to impress, but knowing human nature, I scanned the faces of the chorus, seeking an expression that identified the cruelly-supplanted
And found it.
there is so much trouble waiting to be unleashed from thnose 3 words...
DeleteHow cleverly you inserted the prompts into the opening sentence, Sandra.
DeleteAs always, Sandra, your skill at leaving us with a cliff hanger ending in just 100 words is just spot on . Definitely trouble looming in the form of the cruelly supplanted .
DeleteAll Summer Long
ReplyDeleteThe Horseshoe Guest House had been very popular when the town was a tourist destination. But fate is a cruel master. The hurricane that tore up the coastline left everything along the seafront boarded up.
I came with a key provided by the estate agent, high hopes of snapping up a bargain. But somehow I am trapped here in a loop with the ghosts of summers past. An eternal season of bingo and orange squash. As the song goes - you can check out anytime you want, but, apparently, you can never leave.
oh lovely use of that iconic track!
DeleteAnd haunting too - will be in my head for a while now. Lovely smooth use of prompts.
DeleteAt least you have the company of ghosts. Very nice!
DeleteHauntingly ethereal and definitely have the song in my head now too.
DeleteChange of focus [518]
ReplyDeleteDC Ruth Rawlinson’s meticulously-assembled sequence of CCTV images showed Goren Dubnovaski being followed from where he alighted from the train at Stockton’s station – ‘He got on at Darlington; still checking where he started ’ – to what, he was mercifully unaware, was his final destination, by two dark-clad men in unmarked hoodies. They kept their distance for two streets, then sped up. With cruel efficiency, in the manner of bouncers ejecting an unwelcome guest, they bundled him through a door which matched one of the abattoirs on the pathologist’s list.
Pettinger alerted SOCO and summoned his team.
Stark and very visual image of a crime unfolding . Very clever writing , Sandra.
DeleteA brutally vivid account of impending doom, Sandra.
DeleteNo holds barred - especially from the dark-clad hoodies which seem to have the ability to bother people more than the iperpetual hoodie. They all mean one thing - trouble. Problem is, there are too few people ready to join the ever growing battles an d too man y people wanting to join in the mayhem. And somewhere Pettinger holds his breath whilst his team joins in the fun...
ReplyDeleteMY CHOICE
ReplyDeleteI rejected the shelter of a towering tree in a blizzard because my destination lay beyond. An unwelcomed guest here, I stubbornly forged ahead through the cruel fuzziness, believing that each step brings me nearer rather than takes me farther away. The comprehensible blindness of a thousand flakes bursting upon my eyes is more acceptable than the stark reality offered by a clear view of nothingness. Thus, I struggle on, sharing my steps with emptiness, my heart with weariness, and my soul with loneliness. But through this trial I have discovered the comfort of choosing my own way of death.
The stark solitariness of this is strongly atmospheric, and a change of temperature for you Jim.
DeleteYou have captured the weariness loneliness and finality of this situation, Jim, making it easy to visualise. Expertly done.
ReplyDeleteatmospheric is a tough back ground for anything we come up with for these talen ted fingers which spirfal over the keyboard...
ReplyDeletePredition
ReplyDeleteThat yelp? Foolish stray looking for food, he should know after all these years the rich pickings and clumsy feet come when the festival goes home. Ever does he lie in hope of dead or half dead, to wait but ever has he failed in learning to eat closer. Too much in demand by oldsters who have grown weary, whose clover healing abilities persist but for themselves? They still have to huddle along on a walking stick. Sighs of gratitude, made one time round. Another festival, my time, my son...another festival for you. Don’t let me down.