And in counting mine I’m not boasting so much as acknowledging the effort to produce something closer to Prediction’s brief – can’t say I enjoyed it. Certainly not as much as I did reading and re-reading David’s “Dawn of the living wreaths” which wins top spot this week.
Usual rules: 100 words maximum (excluding title)
of flash fiction or poetry using all of the 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 social media you
prefer.
David's superb entry was indeed worthy of last week's top prize, but I also give a salute to Sandra's entry.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jim, much appreciated.
DeleteSorry i gave no input last week , just back from holiday, internet was non existent.
ReplyDeleteTHE ORACLE SPEAKS
ReplyDelete‘I am Epiphany, oracle of the people who remain in the shadow of the stones and I say this-
Pay homage to the wise ones who, eons ago, erected this wall and its ramparts to protect us against shadowy ravagers from the wild-world.
Though no image bears witness they existed and no-one in living memory has seen the enemy, we must remain vigilant.
Stay strong in our unity; never venture beyond the safety of our fortification.
Listen for their whispers in the wind, watch for their fires in the dark woods below the wall, and always have your weapon ready.’
Epiphany certainly states what must be done, Terrie. "... shadowy ravagers from the wild-world." is a great turn of words.
ReplyDeleteWhether or not you intended it, Terrie, this oracle sounds like a silver-tongued charlatan
DeleteWHAT NOW?
ReplyDeleteA sudden epiphany from out of nowhere directed me to erect a small brick enclosure around myself. This structure, I was enjoined, was to have a solid roof and no openings of any kind. Not one to tempt fate or a wise higher power, I purchased the needed materials and did as commanded.
When finished, I sat alone in the dark, relishing the fact that I had precisely followed the instructions given me by… by what… by whom… and why?
My blood turned gelid upon realizing it was too late to ask those questions. Still, one question remained.
“What now?”
Very strong, concise and precise opening paragraph, Jim - such clarity.
DeleteI agree with Sandra, such economy of language , but i am sat here also thinking 'what now?' and very much hoping that the tools used to build the enclosure are still inside with the builder .
DeleteSnap bit (1)
ReplyDeleteSome might consider it an epiphany but he knew his plan had come together as a result of his ability to apply his brain to problem-solving. He’d got wise to the degree to which reputations were acolyte-inflated; knew it unlikely his target’s reputed strengths and abilities matched actuality, and in any case had deduced the man’s weakness would be his woman. A wealth of intelligence already gathered (necessitating he change his name) he pictured her as he’d last seen her, standing alongside Hetherington, erect, desirable and reputedly untouchable – unless one paid..
He planned to more than merely touch her.
What a cracker of a last line, Sandra. I am anticipating some nastiness to follow although given your ability to turn things around i wonder who will actually be on the receiving end of it .
DeleteSuch a nice lead into something apparently ominous, Sandra.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jim - that's encouraging because in the absence of Raven and Pettinger I'm trying out potential scenes for one of my current works in progress.
ReplyDeleteSandra , I am wondering if all your Raven and Pettinger work is on the old hard drive ,can you find someone who is able to retrieve it for you.
DeleteSadly, Terrie, my laptop suffered a critical malfunction of some sort and was declared well dead. I had some saved in various places, and could, of course, copy/paste from Blogger, but because I also felt both were at times a bit of a chore, I'm hoping to be struck with renewed enthusiasm at some point. Also, it's a different kind of brain stretch to start from scratch each time.
DeleteDay of the Wreaths
ReplyDeleteEpiphany came on the twelfth day. And with it the cold realisation that the experiment could not be contained. The spores that erupted from those already infected burrowed into the flesh of the police officers guarding the village. Rosebud warts sprouted like a pox. They bloomed in gaudy blood rust colours to be pollinated by mutated bees. Verdant transformations commenced. A congress of those who claimed to be wise ordered the erecting of electrical fences, patrolled by soldiers armed with flamethrowers. But already the vein marbled roots of the villagers were tunnelling deep beneath the soil.
This is true horror, all the more impactful, as ever, by the punch and colour of your writing, David.
DeleteI've read this a few times and have to say masterfully written. Its my favourite for this week. The prompt words melted so well in to the telling of the tale.
DeleteSo vividly depressing, David... so very well done!
ReplyDelete