Friday, 12 October 2012

The Prediction - and life goes on

Hello all, my apologies that this will be a brief piece from me this week. Sadly my grandmother died recently and I have been away for the funeral which was later in the month than anticipated. Therefore I hope you forgive me my lack of commentary this time and I will post pictures of Lily and I plus review of FantasyCon next week when normal service will resume.

My winner this week is Matt Farr with In the Midst of Death. Matt - as I said in my comments, really good imagery and some emotionally charged stuff to boot. I loved the concept that the devil's playground is the war ravaged plains of Earth rather than some subterranean cavern deep below.

Runner-up is Sandra Davies with her two latest installments of The Blacksmith's Wife. Sandra - you left me shell-shocked at the end of both pieces and I doubt there was any other reader who didn't feel the same way. I fear for our heroine and yet am desperate to see what happens next (peeking from behind my fingers).

Congratulations to both and thank you all for entering and commenting this week.

Words for this week are:
  • Dodge
  • Pretend
  • Monastery
The usual rules apply: 100 words maximum, excluding the title, of flash fiction or poetry using all of the three words above in the genres of horror, fantasy or science fiction. All variants and use of the words as stems are fine. Just have fun!

You have until 9pm (UK time) Thursday 18 October to get your entries in. New words will spill forth and winners will be announced 9am Friday 19 October. If you can, please tweet about your entry using the #fridayflash #100words or #flashfiction hashtags and blog if you feel like it. Please tell your friends and do give feedback to your fellow Predictioneers - everyone appreciates it!
 
Looking forward to reading some turbo-charged writing this week!

101 comments:

  1. Well done Matt - a well-deserved win for the multi-layered imagery you served up in 'Midst of death', and thank you Phil for my runner-up award. Who would've thought that such innocent words would bring about such mayhem? Onward with this new set ...

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  2. Congratulations, Matt and Sandra! Brilliantly written tales with wonderful imagery... Sandra, The Blacksmith's Wife just gets better and better!

    My condolences, Phil, on the passing of your grandmother. The loss of a loved one is always bittersweet... measuring our loss against the knowledge that they are in a better place now, free of pain and sorrow and the 'cares' of this imperfect Earth.

    I missed last week, had a bit of a relapse and 'Nurse Ratched' took away all my 'toys' (I tell you... if we weren't married...). And, I had actually finished my piece... it just needed and title and a pic to post it... oh well...

    So... what words have we this week? Hmmm...

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  3. Congratulations to Matt and Sandra! Excellent choices, both.

    I'm sorry for your loss, Phil. It's such a difficult thing to get through.

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  4. Congratulations Matt and Sandra.

    Phil my thoughts are with you and your family. Take care of each other.

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  5. Need's must

    Sandaled feet on monastery slabs, heels grey-veined cheddar, toenails fine-tooth combed then fossilised, strapped down with flayed and desiccated leather.
    Halting six inches from my nose.
    No space to move to dodge the pitted pungency.
    No way, once he pulled the tapestry aside, to pretend that I was merely... what?
    Examining the fineness of the stitching?
    Cleanliness of the drains?
    My conscience?
    His?
    No way to avoid his contemptuous kick, his stooping, panting, fat-fingered grapple at my shoulder. To misinterpret that I rise and precede him to his room.
    No way to escape, this time, my duty.
    But next time...

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Antonia - AND for pointing out the superfluous apostrophe - blame it on my husband rushing me out!

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    2. There is something dark and poetic about this piece that strikes a haunting chord with me. And when I get near the end...

      "... precede him to his room... no way to escape... my duty..."

      Now THAT left a CHILL!! Brrr...

      Very well done, Sandra!

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    3. I like the questions central to this, Sandra. Which start off humorous and become the fulcrum on which the piece hinges.

      "My conscience?
      His?"

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    4. Lot of depth to this with hinted at histories between the pair and I imagine little of them pretty. Great opening description (I won't look at feet in the same way again) and a cleverly played sense of resignation coupled with future triumph woven together at the end. Nice writing Sandra.

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    5. Ah, this flows with a poetic chill! Very well written.

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    6. This made me a little sick. Which is to say that it was frighteningly effective. Such quiet, normal horror.

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    7. Wonderful. The personal descriptions were intriguing. The hinted relationship is curious. A poetic scare.

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  6. congratulations Matt and Sandra!
    Veronica, go hit someone!
    Phil, been there enough times to know the agony of losing a grandparent. They are our rock, our comfort, certainly mine was, someone we all went to. It is a huge hole in your life. Go easy with yourself. Grief tends to come and hit you on the nose when you least expect it.
    Sandra, nice piece! not sure you needed the apostrophe in need's, though, other than that, good back story going on here and some disturbing images.

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    Replies
    1. Oh, I so wanted to, Antonia... believe me! But... she only worries because she cares and after that scare a couple of years ago... I can't blame her.

      Anyway... I've got a little morsel for this week that I shall be posting shortly.

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  7. A little erotica this week... so uncharacteristic of me, I know... haha! Methinks it might have something to do with a certain 'frustration' I am experiencing right now... ~ sigh ~

    But, I digress... here is my little offering for this week.


    TEEN ANGST
    By Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw

    ~~**~~

    Pop music… a dodge to dull teen angst… fills the gym.

    Standing away from the throng… black denim and leather… what her mum would call a ‘rude’ boy… dangerous.

    The girl bumped his hip.

    “Boring dance!”

    “So bloody pretend! Fancy a…?” he winked.

    Taking her hand…

    Dark, deserted monastery… desecrated grounds for adolescent assignations.

    Fevered embrace… lips bruised with lust… hair twisted ‘twixt heated fingers… clothing pushed aside…serpentine tongue discovering her secret spots.

    Through black denim, her hands massaged him… metallic ‘snic’ of zipper…

    One-eyed beast springs free… long… thick… hissing…

    Girl screams…

    Boy leers… changing… becoming…

    Demon consummates.



    ~ finis ~

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    Replies
    1. Poetic 'desecrated grounds for adolescent assignations' and the 'metallic ‘snic’ of zipper' set the scene so admirably, Veronica.

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    2. Slips smoothly from the tongue, this does... ;)

      Some lovely alliteration, particularly the "Dark, deserted monastery… desecrated grounds for adolescent assignations." =)

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    3. Oh you naughty girl you Veronica! There I was thinking this was a tale of youthful lust and then out pops our demonic defiler. Think I'm going to have to take a cold shower after reading this!

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    4. Beware of charming boys at boring school balls!

      Great piece!

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    5. Oh, so delightfully dark! lips bruised with lust brought back memories of similar dalliances, though mine were (thankfully) not quite as demonic.

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    6. Oh this should keep our daughters in at night. This girl has a real devil on her hands.

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  8. back later with comments ...
    meantime, for UK residents, give this a go, yes?
    Did you know the Times is running a 50-word ghost story competition? Rhe winner gets £200 worth of books chosen by Random House and Profile, plus a signed set of Susan Hill's ghost stories. Three runners-up will win signed copies of her ghost stories.

    The address is: bookscomp@thetimes.co.uk with Ghost Story in the
    subject line. Name, address and telephone number required. No email
    attachments.

    Entries must be received by 5pm on Tuesday 23rd October. Winners will be notified by 29th October and their names printed in The Times on 27th October.

    Only one entry per person.

    Full terms and conditions on: thetimes.co.uk/competitions

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Antonia, I think I might give that a go. =)

      The full link for the competition - http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/public/competitions/article3565481.ece

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  9. Bargains

    Uncle Jim called The Monastery – an impressive compound indicative of the Priest family’s sense of humor. They’re neither celibate nor religious. Father Mark would consider truce if Jim returned the car, armaments included.

    We pretended détente was possible while sabotaging their equipment.

    “So, am I on my own?” I asked.

    Nate’s jaw clenched, released. “Best keep you close.”

    I went to lay wards on his car, before my magic found its own way out.

    Nate approached, weapon raised.

    Spells still glowing, I froze.

    He flipped the gun around and handed it to me. “Time to get out of Dodge.”

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    Replies
    1. The interaction between these two always takes place on a bigger stage than seems possible in 100 words, each re-read brings up more depths.

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    2. I love the ebb and flow of the tension between those two, and the softer finish works very well. =)

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    3. Nice work to get their uneasy truce moving in the right direction. As John says, the ending works well here as it feels like the early stages of a storm that is about to come raging down around our heads!

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    4. The common enemy will be interesting. The relationship is tense. I want to know more abou their relatives.

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  10. Whoo - and? want to know more! Now!

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  11. Phil, do you have any intentions of following in Lily's footsteps and doing something like her February Femme Fatales, perhaps open to *coughs* men as well?

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    Replies
    1. Hi Antonia, hadn't planned on doing anything like that as Lily had always said she plans to do February Femme Fatales even though she has dropped The Prediction over at The Feardom. I was going to plug that here so you all knew about it once it was out. Speaking of plugs, Lily is running a Halloween comp at Thrillers, Killers n Chillers which closes on 22nd October if people want to go submit a 2,000 word story there. You get to win a back catalogue of the editors' e-books. Well worth entering.

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    2. Macabre May Males?
      Ghoulish July Gentlemen? ;D

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    3. Maybe I should go with June Jocks or September Studs (think that would rule me out of both months though and sounds like a dodgy set of calendars!!!)

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  12. Just a quick post to thank everyone for their kind words towards me this week. Really means a lot. Hugs! Phil

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  13. Amazed

    ‘Mount Grace’
    ‘Is that an order?’ Pretending I’d suggested something I had no intention of allowing.
    ‘Carthusian, it’s a priory.’
    ‘So it’s nuns?
    ‘No, it’s monks.’
    ‘How does a priory differ from a monastery?’
    ‘I just thought it’d be a good place to ...’
    ‘Mount Grace?’
    I changed my mind. I’d thought it the ideal setting for a proposal but he was no longer the man I wanted to marry. I tried to dodge his suddenly encircling arm.
    Lips close to my ear. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted, Grace, to mount you,’ flicker of a knife, 'on my wall.’


    (Inspired by the place itself, just half a dozen miles down the road from where I live: http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/mount-grace-priory/)

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    Replies
    1. Heh, 'Amazed Grace'? Well, she's definitely not going to want to marry him now... ;)

      Nice dialogue interplay, and properly creepy ending.

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    2. definitely creepy! liked this a lot!

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    3. The word play here reminded me of Prediction player David Barber's style which is definitely a compliment. Wasn't expecting that ending and I don't think poor Grace was either. I hope that the inspiration was merely for the writing...

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    4. Clever dialogue and smart twist of phrase gives way to true horror at the end. So well done!

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    5. Oh boy. One more reason my girls will not date till they are forty. Thanks for the story. Well written. I old picture the monastery perfectly.

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  14. Hello all. Sorry this is a bit late and I will comment a bit later. I have been struggling. My writing has felt a bit uninspired to me. Any suggestions friends? How do you get out of a rut? Anyhoooo. Thanks for being there everyone. Here is my attempt:

    The Morning


    You taste like honey in spring, peaches in summer. When you lay on my tongue I dream your last dream. Though, when I am starving, I pretend meat is not my need. Hidden in this monastery I dodge the salty perfume of skin and absorb the ways of those before me. Face to face or pulse to pulse I've no doubt I will feed and feed. Come the grey morning the brothers will spirit me from these gates to begin my life amongst you. I will stretch my wings. I come to serve. I am born again and again.

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    Replies
    1. I'm finding writing harder work than usual too, right now, maybe the change in seasons, waking to darkness rather than light?

      I feel there is a deeper layer to this that I'm not getting, but the language is lovely and I enjoyed reading it several times nonetheless. =)

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    2. I found this rich in imagery and has a depth not apparent on the first reading. Brilliant.

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    3. Hi Marietta and don't apologise for lateness. I think you may be being harsh on yourself about your writing being uninspiring as I'm always impressed by your entries here. If you are stuck then two things to try. 1) Go out and read (lots!). And read people you've not read before to go and give you inspiration.
      2) Write and write and write no matter how good or bad it feels then leave it for a few weeks and re-read it with a critical eye. Your editing will show you what you needed to change.

      Hope that helps. Comments on story to come in a separate post.

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    4. I love this Marietta and my mind is asking me lots of questions about who our narrator is. Are they an angel with a taste for humans or a demon hidden in the last place one would expect to look or something else entirely? Always like something which makes me play with concepts. The way the story is directed at us, 'You taste like honey in spring, peaches in summer', is such a clever thing.

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    5. Lovely imagery in this piece Marietta! It remains a mystery, the intentions of the narrator.

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    6. There is such a sense of rapture in this, a delight in knowing, even in the wanting stages. I would highlight a particular phrase, but there are too many, all wonderful.

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  15. Struggled somewhat, but I think I've wrested this into something decent. =)


    Deception

    Jack Montana crushed the fake glasses beneath his boot, and with them, the last remains of his bumbling botanist cover.

    His scientist pretence had served him well, but he could only dodge discussions about plant biology for so long.

    The masquerade had got him deep into a rainforest where outsiders weren't supposed to be. Where there shouldn't have been an ancient monastery full of riches, either.

    Jack knew nothing about botany, but he knew everything about treasure hunting. He smiled as he bit into one of the local, succulent fruits. Sugary, poisonous juices slipped sweetly down his throat.

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    Replies
    1. Oh, clever! I don't know why but this week's words seem especially ... mind-numbing, but you have triumphed.

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    2. I've given up with this week's words, really gave me problems and then I had the spiritual equivalent of a bereavement so this week is a writeoff as far as writing is concerned. And I read this from John and realise I did the best thing, stay out of it this week! Great stuff.

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    3. What an ironic twist at the end there John. Made me chuckle as I read it. Visions of an inept Indiana Jones fill my head and I wonder if the name Jack Montana was a clever wink in that direction.

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    4. I like Jack Montana!

      "The masquerade had got him deep into a rainforest...." -
      This paragraph itself makes the piece feel bigger and tickles my imagination to know more :)

      Really good piece John.

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    5. Ah, the life of a man intent on desecration and plunder. This is so wonderfully visual that the last bit plays out in spasms and gasps not written.

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    6. Please tell me this is not the last of Jack. What great writing.it felt like an adventure was close.

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  16. Thanks Phil! I really stuggled last week, I'm glad it turned out alright!

    Only the Mundane Vices

    To absolve Sin, one must understand Sin. So they say, as they come down from the monastery each year, to take their pick of the harvest, and wine and women, to be consumed in the absolving of Sin. Each year we pretend not be hungry or to hear the screams from the distant cloisters. Each year we dodge each other’s eyes for the shame of our acquiescence.

    This year I am of age, the fairest in the village, they say, but I have no interest in absolving Sin, and instead will give myself to the cold hands of the river.

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    Replies
    1. Well I sincerely hope someone comes along and rescues her!! Neat and tight-told tale here Matt. Like it a lot.

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    2. I agree with Sandra, lovely writing and left us wondering, a neat and tight told tale indeed.

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    3. Great set-up in the first paragraph and fantastic turnabout and final line, especially that last phrase.

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    4. A sorrowful ending to a sorrowful tale Matt. How many blind eyes have been turned to similar atrocities in the past and how many people have taken their own lives to avoid a fate they see as worse than death? Powerful stuff.

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    5. I got chills Matt. That scenario is quite horrific, and I hear the sorrow, the fear, the burden if must in the narrator's voice.

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    6. There is a dreadful inevitability in the annual ritual, too close to real to be comfortable. The narrator's tragic solution rings true, and is all the more dreadful for it.

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    7. I like the sense of rebellion in our lead. I truly hope this is not the end.

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  17. I've ventured away from Nate and Seth this week, as the words inspired this instead.

    Amy

    Devon limped to the truck and slid her into the covered bed. They’d been playing dodge with the wolves, themselves in human form. The wolves, as what they were. In their joy at the return of their friends, one of the young wilds had drawn her too close to the monastery. Before he could warn them, the arrow had gone through her chest.

    Now they came close, whining, tails tucked low, gathering around the back of the truck. Human green eyes looked into his, smiling softly. He soothed her, pretending, until the pack began to howl.

    Only sunrise would quiet them.

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    Replies
    1. cold and hard and - moreish. Superb, Colleen

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    2. Moreish indeed - read half a dozen times and still absorbing meanings and interpretations.

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    3. Great piece, intriguing set up and haunting ending.

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    4. A tale that starts off with joy and ends with sorrow. And then we are given such a powerful closing, especially the penultimate sentence. A great piece of writing.

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    5. Howl! Grimm tale, with a misty, horror imagery. Great, Colleen!

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    6. This one hurts to read, his anguish raw despite the quiet tone. The wolves howl for him, I think. So beautiful and sad.

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    7. I loved this story. There seems to be much to learn about these characters.

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  18. Ok, I can't actually close or judge or post new words properly this week as my phone provider has allowed another phone provider to cut our broadband off. Don't ask but I shall be expecting some vouchers, free service, etc once resolved. So I am sending this from my phone at the moment which is slightly tedious. Therefore, as it will be a few days until resolved, I am extending the Prediction for one more week to close Thusday 25 October at 9pm.

    For those wanting new words, please use
    Telephone
    Company
    Sucks
    or variations of words as always. I will include those stories amongst the judging. So do go ahead and ring my bell.

    Love and hugs

    Phil

    P.s. apologies if this posts three times as seems to be a quirk of sending from phone. Fingers crossed it just posts once.

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    Replies
    1. Back with a temporary internet solution which means I can actually judge later this week. Thanks for your patience and I am serious about the three new words if those who have already entered (or anyone else) wants something new to play with.

      Cheers

      Phil

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  19. Good evening Predictioneers! It's been awhile since I've last been here, but it is good to be back! ^^ I hope everyone is well.

    I wrote this in a flash, bit too quick for my liking but whatever the situation offers I grab (that includes Phil extending the closing date). Booo to that phone company! I hope the problem will be resolved quickly Phil.

    So, the piece:

    La grande finale

    An ancient creature is outside the gates of the Monastery – the last remaining sanctum of God’s devotees.

    Its shadow extends, crawling upon the stone, penetrating the barricade of holy with an illusion of fear that caresses the hidden faces of the monks and retreats their fate for a blink. Sufficient.

    It comes nearer, hesitating, pretending the old belief of crosses and wooden stakes is true.

    But then, in a flash, in a quiet smirk, It invades, dodging the incoming silver arrows, jumping over the Greek flames, crashing Its phantom body against the gate.

    Danse macabre.

    It has been let in.



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    Replies
    1. An end of times. Great imagery of the final stand being held at the Monastery which I like to think of as a super-monastery filled with thousands of battle hardened monks. I fear that they don't stand a chance and part of me (should I say this out loud) is rooting for our beast here. So glad you were able to come back and join us again Cindy with such a well wrought piece.

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    2. The idea of its shadow caressing their faces is a chilling one. Especially since it seems to be the chink in their armour that ultimately allows its ingress.

      Happily never after... the last bastion falls...

      Great scene building, Cindy. =)

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    3. I have always loved a deadly masque, terrible though it is. The circumventing of prohibitions by pretending they work is effective here. A well-spun tale, indeed.

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    4. Lovely imagery; like an oil pointing, heavy and mysterious. Yay.

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    5. Very vivid and insidiously creepy. Lovely indeed.

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  20. Hello Predictioneers! I do miss you so.

    Phil, I am so sorry and sad to hear of your grandmother's passing; much love to you and your family.

    I've stopped in, and am as always blown away by the Prediction entries. If I might be allowed to enter one... it's late, as usual.

    HYMN TO HIM

    The monastery cell was too small for the three of us. Basier, with his nuts removed at thirteen warbled to his God in a eunuch’s falsetto. Me and Rabbinger shared a bed in eternal embrace, pretending one was a woman, the other a man – alternating with the rising of the sun and setting of the moon. The monks called it The Dodge – our demons occupying their hosts at random - and they tried, with torture and with platitudes to rid us of the diabolical hold on our souls. But they missed the signs – and Basier kept singing, singing our devil songs.

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    1. Lily! Hello. ^_^

      A dark and deep scene you've painted here. The addition of Basier, singing along to demonic depravity in a voice meant for angels, is genius.

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    2. There is so much going on in this - before and after, seen and unseen - that I find myself reading it again and again. It's like the opening of a movie, or the close of one, and I want to see the rest.

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    3. Yes! So happy to read this lovely nugget. The monastery seems to have fools at the rule and danger already rising. More on this anywhere?

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    4. Hello Lily - so good to see you here, and this gem tells us why you're missed. Multi-layered and mysterious, but I was enraptured by 'Basier, with his nuts removed' - scalpel-sharp.

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    5. Ah, welcome back Lily, so good to see your fine words gracing the pages over here at Phlambler's World.

      Such a clever title to go with such a clever story. Like a schoolboy I chuckled at the descriptions of Basier's falsetto before being enticed by the demonic delights. Wonderful writing as always - don't be such a stranger in the future ;-)

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  21. OK, Phil... this one's for you... ;)


    404: Soul Not Found

    Page not found.

    Brian clicked refresh. He stroked the monitor.

    "Please baby, for me?"

    Page not found.

    "You suck! Fucking load! What is wrong with you?!"

    He slumped face first into the keyboard and sobbed.

    He grabbed his telephone.

    "I'll give them what for. I'll get compensation. I'll- Oh, come on!"

    He waved the phone around.

    "Bastard thing, where's your bastard signal?"

    Static giggled as he watched Brian struggling for, literally, the one millionth time.

    In life Brian had been head of a major communications company. Cutbacks in infrastructure, millions of moments like these, had bought Brian his second yacht.

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    Replies
    1. This one made me chuckle. Talk about just desserts! I'd be willing to believe in Hell if folks like Brian got theirs in the end.

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    2. This should be their Hell. Excellent job; very funny. Such an appropriate punishment.

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    3. Humour interleaved with razors - very sharply observed.

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    4. Oh John, that was just the tonic I needed to raise a smile on this cutomer's irate face. Beautifully observed humour which had a lovely layer of darkness running right through it.

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  22. Impact

    Ronald’s words reach me over the beeping traffic. “Julius isn’t naked.”

    No, of course not. He’s right there next to me in the car, telling me my taste in music sucks and laughing when I deny it. He’s turning off Bad Company and plugging in his iPhone. I’m hit with screeching garage death metal from hell… so loud and terrible it makes me dizzy, nauseated. He screams along.

    “They spied every Dane.” Ronald makes no sense, shouldn’t be there. He’s at work.

    Like a game of telephone reversed, I finally hear the truth.

    Julius didn’t make it.
    They tried everything.

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    Replies
    1. Oh damn, I posted mind before reading yours, having cooked it up on the treadmill - sorry! - and this is scary Chinese whispers indeed, clever.

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    2. I have to be honest and hadn't realised it was Chinese Whispers (do you call it telephone in the States) until Sandra pointed it out but then I can be dim at times. Very, very clever and a chill to the ending which works so well.

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    3. Oh, how interesting! Yes, we call the game Telephone, though Chinese Whispers is much more evocative.

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  23. Hi all, feels like ages since I have put anything in even though it has only been a couple of weeks in reality but time is such a fluid concept dependent on how much is going on. Anyway, enough philosiphising, here is a submission which sort of works but really needs some polishing; hopefully you'll like the concept.

    Free spirit

    Hair littered the sink as Francis picked up his razor to finish the job.

    The sharpened metal scraped away stubble to leave a monastic haircut; a mound of white circled by grey tinged hair.

    He had pretended enlightenment for years, spouting his theories to all and sundry, but he couldn’t dodge the issue any longer. He had never spoken directly to God.

    The brain was the key; that was what he told himself as he started to cut. His scalp came away cleanly, less bleeding than anticipated, leaving the bony crown exposed ready for the buzz saw.

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    1. Yuck - a real kick of revulsion at this ending.

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  24. This really was hard work, but now I wonder if it is
    A change of focus

    The scarlet handset appeared to have spewed a map of South Africa, matching stain spreading and disappearing beneath the sprawled body of the dark-haired woman.
    ‘What’s that godawful noise?’
    DS John Pettinger, concentrating on fixing first impressions in his mind, didn’t hesitate. ‘Bad Company.’
    ‘Well obviously that’s what she’s been keeping... oh, you mean the music. Looks like some film I saw once, where the telephone sucks the blood from its victims ...’
    ‘I doubt that’s happened here.’
    Pettinger’s exasperation at the DC was muted as he failed to ignore the sick feeling permeating his gut.
    ‘I know this woman.’

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    Replies
    1. How quickly a casual interest in the victim becomes one of personal shock when it becomes someone we once knew. Great images of the scene bring this to life and that ending makes it all feel so much more real. A very nice trick to use there which worked so well.

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  25. two weeks? well, two stories i guess. Same words.

    Only the Mundane Vices, A Sequel

    My Mother was unable to escape the Absolving of Sin but its fire failed to consume her. She found herself strengthened, able to pretend to live a normal life, in a village able to pretend to let her. But there are legacies you cannot dodge, and I was raised with them, as I learned to pretend to be a normal child, growing to the flower of womanhood, unwilling to share my Mothers fate.

    The village turns its eyes to the Monastery burning on the hill, screams of the unabsolved echoing within.

    I pray my fathers voice is one of them.

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    Replies
    1. And with your second entry this week you give us a different perspective on how those villagers could react to the Absolving ritual which is carried out year after year. This was already a good piece and then you just raised it up a level with that last line.

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  26. And a week late (thank you very much Sky for cancelling our connection with our phone provider when no dealings with you for years!) I draw the Prediction to a close. Thanks to all for your entries. I am off to judge now and bring forth fresh words now that I have the technology! Therefore, no more entries but do feel free to comment on all the entries which is what I will do now post haste.

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