Category: My stories

• Scribbling Wren
• Richard
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Serendipidy
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next weekly challenge topic is: Style, Figure, Balance, Schism, Flower basket, Double

LISA

Lonely Hearts

His flat overlooks the city but Paul isn’t looking at the view.

Paul’s TV is on but he’s not watching it.

A pigeon flies into his window, dies instantly and leaves a dusty imprint that Paul barely notices.

He’s scrolling, scrolling a dating site, scrolling a long list of single women that are looking for a man.

Looks matter but that’s not what stops him. It’s something he can see in their eyes, imperceptible to you and me. He knows what he needs. He likes them damaged, desperate and downright sad.

He stops scrolling.

Clicks.

Paul’s next victim is chosen.

LIZZIE

“The scroll, please”
Amidst the perplexing disarray of intentions (everyone darted in different directions), one of the monks tripped.
“So?”
They said the turmoil was such that no one fetched the scroll.
“Considering the monk’s broken leg will stay broken for a while, someone, get the scroll.”
Everyone hurried.
After a while…
“There are two scrolls, Father. Which one…?”
He took a deep breath. There are two, they said… Two scrolls, one broken leg. And he felt like strangling someone and shoving a scroll down someone’s throat. Then, there would be only one.
Hell. That’s where he was heading, Hell.

RICHARD

Origami

The South Coast Regional Origami Learners List, otherwise known as SCROLL, seemed like a good idea at the time. An online community of people with a shared interest in origami, providing a forum for enthusiasts of all abilities and experience to share their knowledge, and show-off their creations.

Unfortunately, we’d over-estimated not only the number of origami fans on the South coast, but also the levels of enthusiasm, which – if I’m honest – was pretty much non-existent.

Frankly, the whole thing turned out to be a complete waste of time, money and effort.

In the end, inevitably, it folded.

SERENDIPIDY

They say there are great mysteries contained within the sacred scroll, and that profound truths about life, death and the universe can be found within its writings.

Some have even speculated that the nature of god can be divined from studying its hidden messages.

It’s been said that magical texts of great power are held within the scroll, and ancient secrets are woven throughout its passages.

But, nobody knows for sure.

Because nobody has ever read the sacred scroll.

They simply skip to the bottom, tick the box saying they agree, and click on the ‘Accept’ button.

Just like you.

TOM

Never knowing the moment

A few years ago some wicked publishing house print out the coolest run of Kerouac’s On The Road. Like the original, one long scroll of paper. Should have laid out the coin and bought it. I didn’t big mistake, along side not buying a wood cut copy of the The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. To honor the passing of my friend who actually met the man. I dragged out the old tractor feed Epson and printed the scroll out. He and it reduced to ash. Funny how a single book can change a whole generation. Forever on the road.

My Absence
In John Green’s the fault in our stars his hero reflects on the pivotal turning point in dying “There’s no way of knowing that your last good day is Your Last Good Day. At the time, it is just another good day.” That’s for someone on the inside. For we on the outside trying own damnest not to fill that last good day with the mundane needs of community management we wait too long. Which is why I didn’t ask my best friend what the passwords were while he lay with multiple tube pumping in and out of his body, because, he was coming home.

NORVAL JOE

The hunched old man scratched his head through his black hood. “Yellow teeth?” He took out his phone and scrolled through his photo gallery.
Billbert scooted up next to him. “Can I look at that? Sabrina said there were some dark knights in our homeroom class. I’d like to see who they are.”
“Right. I think not.” The old man put the phone away and turned to the youths. “Bring me the scroll.”
The girl brought him a yellowed tube of parchment.
He unrolled it and read, “Billbert Dimplepoker, for crimes against the magical realms, you are condemned to death.”

PLANET Z

The rule is simple: wizards can only cast spells from magic scrolls and priests can only cast spells from holy scrolls.
If anybody else tries to cast spells from them, bad things happen.
Egbert the warrior tried. That’s him over there, that pile of ashes.
The dead frog in that pile is Luthien the lockpicker.
The woman rolling around on that mess and screaming is Melody the bard.
She needs a cure insanity spell cast on her, and luckily enough, we have a scroll of it.
Or maybe ironically enough, since it’s the scroll that these three idiots tried reading.

• Scribbling Wren
• Richard
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Serendipidy
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next weekly challenge topic is: Scroll

SCRIBBLING WREN LISA

The Last Supper

John was the host with the most, his pavlovas were to die for.

He was a demon in the kitchen and always used fresh local ingredients. A lot of the vegetables he grew himself at his well tended allotment plot. He blended his own spices and there always seemed to be one flavour you just couldn’t put your finger on what it was.

There wasn’t a pudding today, it didn’t matter because after the main course his guests couldn’t move anyway. They weren’t stuffed, he’d drugged them. It was then that he shackled them and began to enjoy his evening.

RICHARD

Hostess with the mostess

She was the perfect host: Attentive, considerate and she always made you feel right at home.

Her parties were always memorable, and you knew you’d made it, if ever you received an invitation.

These parties were occasions not to be missed, and were often frequented by politicians, judges and celebrities, you’d be rubbing shoulders with everybody who was anybody.

She had a cracking pair of tits too! Along with a figure to die for and a wicked technique with the whip and restraints.

She was expensive, of course, but you certainly got your money’s worth.

Best damn dominatrix in town!

TOM

Sugar in Any Form

I have a warm memory from childhood of the Hostess thrift story. A little bit bigger than three bathrooms, but racks of week, to month old: ho ho-s, ding dongs, suzy q’s, sno balls, zingers, and my beloved Twinkies. ALL mime, mine, mine. I was a sugar junky. Would have been dead by now if it hadn’t been for a three years stay in an organic bakery drying me out. Last year my youth caught up with me. Diabetes. A host of sugar adjacent food sources were purged. Am I happy? Let us say being good is its own punishment

LIZZIE

“A plate full of love,” she said, looking at the heart-shaped biscuits and blinking her eyes slowly, like a cat.
He frowned.
She raised her voice to a higher pitch. “You don’t think so?”
Careful, he thought. Never ever contradict a host holding a plate.
“Valentine?” She insisted. “Love and all that?”
He nodded. Pink little hearts…
“Fine, don’t say anything. I’ll toss them in the garbage.”
He nodded.
That’s when that plate flew in his direction.
The gash on his head wasn’t the shape of a heart.
That love wasn’t meant to happen. He just hated pink freaking biscuits.

SERENDIPIDY

You’ve heard of the heavenly host? Let me introduce you to the unheavenly host.

We don’t sit around on clouds all day, dressed in white nightgowns, playing harps. We favour denim and leather, and cruise around on Harleys, blasting out sick riffs on Les Paul sunbursts.

Then there’s the whole being saintly and giving it up to God thing.

Stuff that! For us, it’s mob rule, sex, drugs and rock n roll.

I’ll be honest with you, heaven these days is pretty empty. When the angels see the fun they could have with us, they’re down here like a shot!

NORVAL JOE

The two knights directed Billbert and Sabrina to a rusted Chrysler 300 with all the windows tinted. They were pushed into the back seat. The dark knights squeezed in beside them.
An hour later they pulled up to a decrepit cabin dwarfed by tall pines and redwoods.
Inside the cabin they found an old man wearing a black hood with holes cut out for his eyes and mouth. He smiled a yellow toothed smile. “I will be your host while you stay with us.”
Billbert scoffed. “I have a host of questions. First. Do all of you have yellow teeth?”

PLANET Z

Aside from dropping dead in his own mansion, Mr. Body was actually a pretty good host for the party.
The invitations went out, the mansion was clean and well-decorated, and the caterers provided the best wine, appetizers, and dinner to the guests.
Leaving out so many weapons, well, that may have been taking the decorations a bit too far.
And when it comes to hosting a murder mystery, well, ten out of ten points for that.
In the end, everyone had a great time.
Well, except for the murderer, of course. They were hauled off to jail by the cops.