Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #944 – PICK TWO Express, In my hand, Expected, Cut and dried, Desiccation, Blocker

The next topic is Blood is thicker than water

NORVAL JOE

The tree, struck by lightning, burned and sizzled as rain and wind slashed against the window of Sabrina’s room.
The nurse’s frown faded to an apologetic smile. “If it was in my hands, I’d let you stay. But these are the rules, cut and dried.”
“I expected as much.” Billbert made to leave.
“No!” Sabrina snapped, squeezing his fingers. “Keep your hand in mine!”
The nurse folded her arms. “Okay. You have until I give report in about forty-five minutes.”
Billbert glanced at her name tag. “Thanks, Nurse Racquet. Can I come back tomorrow, earlier?”
She sighed. “I guess so.”

SERENDIPIDY

Here’s where I keep them, sealed away tightly in airtight boxes to keep out the humidity.
Cut and dried into cubes, the desiccation process preserves all the flavour, but makes storage simple and none of those nasty smells to deal with.
Then, when I have guests for dinner, I simply rehydrate a few cubes overnight and use them to make stock, or simply crumble them over the meal, to add a nice piquancy to the food.
Delicious!
I think so, anyway.
My guests, sometimes disagree.
So I slit their throats, and use their bodies for the next batch of seasoning.

TOM

here in jungle-land 945 859 860

The children of the unforgiven tooled broken express lanes. No time to be expected. Enter longing, regret hot shame. In her hand was his redemption, In his hand was the echo of pain. Whined out a fiery engine cut and dried in the furnace’s reframe. She knew no reason to wait in the darkness. He was her savior, her light, her flame. This flight was his last. Wheels pounding in the rain. A wall of law behind them a wall of law ahead. Desiccation of hope hardens the heart, but concrete blockers will end the game. Here in jungle-land.

A line of lawmen, a wall of cars and a hail of bullets in wait. Just at the edge of eyesight the Rat was making his run. Like the speediest falling star, brief and doomed, he never really had a choice, gun the engine at that blue line, and lose. Music was spilling out the window in some broken down Homeric hymn. The barefoot girl keep time with its mournful beat that mark the last full measure of her empty life. In the end it was just the sound of metal, then a silence you could cut with a knife.

The rasping of rain in the gutters. Thumbs setting safeties, up turn barrels in the night. A trail of smoke above a trail blood below. Crossing the heart of the city one less rebel ment one less reason to fight. In morning would there be a pray for the rat? Would his passing even be noted? Would a mother cry for her child? For a good girl gone bad. When the song is finally written who is forgotten who is not? Only the strong stay strong and the meek fade way. Burn bright the children of night here in jungle land.

LIZZIE

The guy stole my headset, and then the gun magically appeared in my hand and I just had to shoot. I knew the detective wasn’t buying my loony bin strategy… My lawyer told me to shut up, but I just had to talk. And I went on and on about voices, lots of voices “can’t you hear them?!”. My lawyer said “shut up” again, but I just had to keep talking. In court, my lawyer turned to me and said “Voices?! Did you hear my voice??” And then I was given life. Perhaps I should write a book about voices!

RICHARD

Express Checkout
I really don’t know why I bother!
Every single time, it’s always the same: I pop in to the store, rushing as always, and up against the clock.
So, of course, I choose the express checkout, as I always do, and – as I always do – I regret it, almost immediately.
The guy with more than ten items; the woman with annoying kids, demanding sweets and gum; the idiot, struggling to swipe their credit card, or fumbling for change.
All of them delaying the line, each one a blocker to my rapid exit.
Express checkout, my arse!
Slower than the others!

PLANET Z

Every morning, Harry took the express train to work.
He had been taking the local route, but after timing all the stops and delays, he saved a few minutes by driving to the next town over and boarding there for the express.
Sure, it took a little more gas, but when the station offered free charging, he traded in his car for an electric and let it charge all day while he was at work.
Henry was so proud of himself, until the express missed a signal and slammed into a garbage truck.
His blood-soaked briefcase landed in the weeds.

CHATGPT

The express train rumbled through the desert, where desiccation had reduced the landscape to dust. In my hand, I clutched a letter with “urgent” stamped on it. The message was clear: return home immediately. The situation wasn’t as cut and dried as I’d hoped. Dad’s health was failing, the letter said, and I was expected to make a choice I’d dreaded. My heart felt like a blocker was squeezing it, but I knew what I had to do. The train screeched to a stop at my station, and I stepped onto the platform, bracing myself for what awaited me.

Weekly Challenge #943 – All our tomorrows

The next topic is PICK TWO Express, In my hand, Expected, Cut and dried, Desiccation, Blocker

LISA

All Our Tomorrows

I’m not sure if it was the heat from the fire, or fumes, or if I was just overwhelmed by being out of the basement but I felt really light headed.
In his explanation he kept repeating that he’d chosen us and the importance of ‘all our tomorrows’. That particular phrase was repeated over and over again.
Later, he led us up a very grand staircase. We had a bedroom each. Mine had a massive double bed and a sofa in it. The weirdness wasn’t the opulence though; it was being separated from the others after being so very close.

LIZZIE

We gathered by the fire. Questions and more questions. One wanted this, the other that. And we all shared our fears and our hopes. There was laughing, crying, and yelling too. Not many believed we would make it out there. We all shook our head. We all chuckled. We knew. They didn’t. We would make it! When the nurse came with the pills for the evening, we all agreed not to take them. The nurse said, take the pills, come on. And… I stood there alone. The others ran and hid in the darkest corners of my mind. The cowards.

RICHARD

Undated

We spent an absolute fortune on the new computerised diary system. The programme basically runs the whole business. We’re totally reliant on it, which – if you ask me – is never a good thing.

Every meeting, appointment and booking, past present and future are managed by the system. All our tomorrows, yesterdays and todays: categorised, organised and optimised, and all supervised by the system to ensure maximum effective use of time and resources.

Neat, huh?

Until the system goes down.

Like it did today. And the engineer can’t come until Wednesday.

So, at least for the time being, tomorrow is cancelled.

SERENDIPIDY

The photo album tells the whole story.
Every page, full of special moments; memories of times past, the family happy together, smiling and loving life.
Every page, that is, right up until the day our lives crossed with his. And then, everything changed, forever.
After that, just blank pages.
No more photographs, no more happy smiles, no more family. All our tomorrows, wiped out in an instant.
My family, destroyed. And, myself, the only survivor.
And him? He’s doing just fine.
Or, so he thinks.
Because I’m on a mission to get even.
So, let’s see what tomorrow will bring.

NORVAL JOE

Like a plot twist in the telenovela, Todos Nuestros Mañanas, as Billbert touched Sabrina’s hand, her eyes flashed open and she tried to sit up. She shouted in pain and the monitors flashed and beeped.
Lightning struck a tree outside the window and thunder rattled the room.
The nurse rushed in. “I’m sorry, Billbert. You’ll have to leave.”
Sabrina clutched Billbert’s hand, gasping, “No. He has to stay.”
The nurse scowled and reset the monitors. Sabrina’s heart rate and respirations had begun to normalize.
“I can’t explain why,” Billbert said. “But I need to stay, for a while at least.”

TOM

When you get to the fork in the road

Sister Fran was a devotee of the ancient sage Yogi of Berra. His collective works were some of few written records from the past that survived. Fran spent hours in deep contemplation on each of the holy koans. She read the gold leaf script with head bowed. The future ain’t what it uses to be. A soft wind blew through the arched window of the monastery. As the western sun melted in the forest she lifted her head. With silver ink Fran wrote the following: All our tomorrows were yesterday. I have taken the fork oh great sage, She mused.

PLANET Z

Mrs. Rettig asked each student to bring in a calendar.
At the end of every day, she’d give out stickers.
Green for good, yellow for needs improvement.
I got a lot of red and black stickers.
At the end of the year, the kids with red and black stickers earned a field trip to the police station.
“This is what will happen if you keep this up,” said Officer Kick.
And he was right. The moment I graduated from high school, I entered the police academy.
I especially enjoyed when I arrested Mrs. Rettig for speeding in a school zone.

CHATGPT

In the city of Allor, time was a fickle mistress. The citizens lived for tomorrow, always planning, always waiting. Their town clock, an ancient artifact, ticked only for future dreams. Sarah, a young artist, painted vivid tomorrows on every wall, each stroke a promise. One evening, the clock stopped. Panic spread, but Sarah saw it as a chance. Gathering the townsfolk, she led them in creating a mural of their today. As they painted, they realized the beauty of the present. The clock began ticking again, but now, Allor lived for today, knowing each moment was a precious thread in their tapestry of tomorrows.

Weekly Challenge #941 – Outsider

The next topic is Has-beens

LISA

Our Adductor Explains

“The wealth we have is beyond comprehension. This has, in some respects, made us into outsiders. Neither of us fit into traditional society or, indeed, like society. So, we would like to start something else.

A sort of new community built on love and trusting. That’s why, you see, taking you all against your will wasn’t the right start for this. I’d prefer it if you’d chosen to be here in the first place. We both hope that now you’re here you’ll choose to stay with us. We won’t force anyone so please, do say if you’d rather leave.”

RICHARD

Outsider

Even after all these years, I’m treated like an outsider. So what if I’ve lived here since I was a young man? I wasn’t born here: That’s why I’ll never fit in.

It doesn’t matter to them that my accent is strange, or that my skin is a different colour. They don’t care that I worship other gods and follow my own traditions.

None of this bothers them.

But they still watch me, with suspicion in their gaze; fall silent when I approach; they still keep their secrets from me.

I was born an outsider, and an outsider I remain.

TOM

Outsider

Frank and Bill met in grad-school. Both brilliant, top of class, destine for greatness. Frank became the consummate Insider. Walked the halls of powers. Knew the power elite. His council was sought out by the Half a Percent. Bill on the other hand was the consummate Outsider. He left no foot print in the corporal or the cyber world. Basically, he was off the grid, in deep cover. When Interpol finally caught up with Frank and sent him to the Hague for war crimes, it was Bill who sprung him. No one saw him coming no saw them go outside.

857

Crash

My dad had Chutzpah. If there was an event in his neighborhood where free-food was served, he and my godfather Eddie would crash it in the most brazen ways. Friend of the groom to her family. Friend of the bride to his. One night he got hold of the mic and sang to the newlyweds. Even got their names wrong, but it didn’t matter, boy could he sell it. My dad crashed funerals. In Chicago wakes had excellent spreads. He could turn on the water-works on cue. One time he broke down in tear in the arms of the archbishop.

SERENDIPIDY

Another Outsider came today
I threw stones at him, and he went away
I just want to help, I heard him say
But help from strangers isn’t my way
He’ll be back again sometime, I know
But I’ll throw more stones, and away he’ll go
The Outsiders say they have my welfare at heart
But I’d rather live my life apart
From those who think they are so smart.
Yet still they continue to come around
They shout and yell when I go to ground.
Why can’t they all leave and let me be
And remain Outsiders, just like me?

LIZZIE

The family and the outsider. The mother, the father, the brother, the sister. A family like so many. The hugs and the smiles. The praises and the photos. A family like any other. Everyone smiled. Everyone thought, what a wonderful family. So loving, so caring. The kids look so happy. Except for the outsider. She was not happy. Why do you always have to frown for the photos? Why can’t you be quiet? Why can’t you be more like your sister? Why do we even bother? The outsider was never hugged or praised… or loved. The outsider was her daughter.

NORVAL JOE

After three days of getting the same answer to his calls to the hospital, Billbert was fed up. He left school and went straight to the hospital.
He picked up the phone outside the ICU and told the ward clerk he was there to see Sabrina Hecksaohos.
“I’ve told you before, Billbert. Only family members can come in to visit.”
Frustrated, Billbert said, “And I told you before, I’m not some random outsider. I’m her only friend, and she needs me to see her. I’m going to sit here in the hallway, outside your door, until someone lets me in.”

PLANET Z

I moved to a new place six months ago.
I’ve met so few people.
I have yet to meet any of the neighbors.
Well, except the people across the street.
Their little girl had a lemonade stand, I bought some bottled water and a bag of chips.
And her mother came over to get some boxes because they are moving away soon.
I know my doctor, my dentist, my physical therapist.
The nurse who maintains my anxiety medication.
The woman who watches the self-checkout scanners at the grocery store.
But I don’t really know them, and they don’t know me.

CHATGPT

In the village of whispers and shadows, there lived an outsider named Kai. With eyes like forgotten constellations, Kai wandered the streets, a silent observer of bustling lives. They found solace in the melodies of the wind and the secrets of the moonlit woods. The villagers whispered tales of Kai’s mysterious origins, weaving myths of ancient lands beyond the horizon. Yet, amidst their curious gazes, Kai remained unfazed, a beacon of enigmatic tranquility. One stormy night, as lightning danced across the sky, Kai vanished into the darkness, leaving behind whispers of wisdom and the lingering echo of a solitary soul’s journey.

Weekly Challenge #940 – PICK TWO Still, Officer down, Random Action, One two three…, Pure, You never know

The next topic is Outsider

JUSTIN THE SPACE TURTLE

Three… You never know how it’ll turn out. You thought it would be amazing, as endless as anything can be this side of Heaven, and be a little slice of it.

Two… surely it’s just a challenge, it will be OK, just try again, learn, try harder, be better. Push through the pain, do the best you can.

One… It’s not right anymore, you say. You’re told you’re wrong, but also that you’re right, and it’s done.

Zero… It’s over, gone, and there’s nothing left but the broken pieces of your life. And the struggle to keep what should remain.

DAVID

Officer Under Fire

“Officer under fire!” blared across the radio.

Andrew Macarthy had been in fistfights and gunfights, fended off dogs, and had cars crash into his own at breakneck speed. This experience put them all to shame, for a child held his fate. Constricted with no way out, a chill running over him, he could only wait.

One shot fired, missing by inches.

A second shot, a little closer.

Andrew looked out the glass, where the child held his baseball with fiery eyes. The kid wound up and threw—bullseye!

Andrew plunged into icy water with shocking effect.

“Officer down!” the announcer cheered.

RICHARD

Officer Down

“He’s lying very still, Sarge… I think he’s dead”

The sergeant gave me a grim look, “Let’s hope not. Bad enough having an officer down, without it becoming ‘killed in the line of duty'”

We inched forward, wary of hidden shooters but, as we neared the body, we sighed in relief at the sight of the rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing.

No… Snoring!

A nudge from my foot brought him to bleary-eyed, surprised, wakefulness.

To be honest, I think the Sarge would have preferred ‘killed in the line of duty’ to ‘sleeping on the job’!

SERENDIPIDY

You never know quite what the immediate future is going to bring.
Any random action can result in unforeseen consequences; like that trip over a paving stone, that sends you flying helplessly into the path of a bus!
Unlikely, I know, especially if you’re the cautious, careful type; but accidents can happen!
Then again, it may be the random action of somebody else entirely that completely ruins your day.
Like the moment I sneak quietly up behind you, and randomly push you into the path of that approaching bus.
It wasn’t me though.
You tripped over that paving stone, right?

LISA

Gathered
The fire crackled; my muscles, stiff from spending months on the floor, began to unknot in the warmth and comfort of the heavily cushioned sofa.

“When I gathered the first of you it was a completely random action.” Our faces all grimaced at his word choice. “I’d just got the idea of starting something pure but, believe me, this really wasn’t the beginning I wanted for it. It felt like the exact opposite of what I wanted. I had no choice”

He winced as if this was hurting him when it was us it affected.

None of us had spoken.

LIZZIE

One, two, three, something… The numbers got jumbled in his head. He wanted to call her. He never understood why she had left. He was a caring husband. He yelled at her sometimes, true, but it was just to toughen her up. He always bought her flowers afterwards. The ungrateful would make a face and walk away. Two, three, something… No. He still loved her. But she abandoned him when he needed her the most. That punch was… Well, but she talked back. Three, one… He kept trying to remember it, not knowing that she had long changed her number.

TOM

Everyone has their Reason – Rule of the Game

Morty had lived his life by other people’s rules. Parents, teachers, Bosses, wives, anyone of authority. He was old and dying inside. The logical option was finding some high bridge and take a swan dive. It was here he met Arthur. The man was set on the very edge of the bridge rolling 20 sides dice. After each roll the man beamed joyfully. Morty inquired about the purpose for the dice. Art said: Random action you just never know. He stood up and walk away. Morty got a pair of D20-s. He smiles lot these days. You just never know.

856

Dancing on a volcano

Scribble on a soggy and dirt piece of paper were the numbers 1027. On the front was written the name Franz Lens. The woman knew the importance of getting this missive to the man. She back-tracked over a wide section of Paris. Never looking directly over her shoulder. But on one cut, in a window pane she saw the ss officer. Quickly she ran to the door of the bakery. A shot rang out. She fell. As the baker held her in his arm she spoke: Contact Lens. The baker stuffed the note into a baguette. Made for the egout

NORVAL JOE

Billbert didn’t wait. As soon as they got home, he went to his room and called the hospital. When he asked for Sabrina, they connected him to the nurses station.
“Can I talk to Sabrina?” Billbert asked.
“Are you a family member?” the nurse replied.
“No. I’m her best friend.” He tried to explain.
“I’m sorry. If you’re not family…”
Billbert interrupted. “All her family is dead. I’m all she has.”
“Still,” the nurse said. “You’re not family. You never know, if she comes around, I’ll tell her you called.”
Billbert gasped. “What do you mean, if she comes around?”

PLANET Z

Einstein warned that God does not play dice with the universe.
But old Alfred, wild-haired as ever, there in the alley, muttering baby needs a new pair of shoes and throwing dice with his grad students.
“Princeton doesn’t pay for shit,” he said later, stuffing money into his pockets. “Washington doesn’t either.”
As the years went by, Einstein lectured less and gambled more.
Many said he’d peaked in 1905.
Instead of research papers, he produced photos, postcards, and posters.
And admission to Princeton became a commodity, even if the kids ended up dealing at his casino nights and serving drinks.

CHATGPT

In the stillness of night, Officer Mark patrolled the quiet streets, his thoughts drifting to his daughter’s laugh. Suddenly, a random action shattered the calm—a gunshot. One, two, three… Mark raced towards the sound, finding a fellow officer down. In the chaos, he acted on pure instinct, applying pressure to the wound. As sirens wailed in the distance, Mark realized the fragility of life—how you never know when a routine patrol could turn perilous. Yet, amid uncertainty, he found solace in the pure determination to protect and serve, knowing every action, no matter how random, mattered.

Weekly Challenge #939 – Train

The next topic is PICK TWO Still, Officer down, Random Action, One two three…, Pure, You never know

RICHARD

Railway lines

I’m writing this on the train.

It’s a good way to kill the time between departure and arrival, and it’s surprising how even the longest journey can seem to fly by.

Some might prefer to gaze out of the window, snooze or read, I’ve tried them all – had to really, when the job meant travelling for hours on end, most days of the week.

Then we discovered online meetings.

And the travelling stopped.

The writing didn’t, although somehow it seems I never have the time, these days.

So, it’s good to be back on the train.

Getting creative once again.

LIZZIE

Train the mind, train the body. Row, row, row. And that was the deal. Resurface after a downfall. Get up and walk, get up and run. Go, go, go. But he didn’t want to go, go, go. He didn’t want to get up and he definitely didn’t want to resurface.
He didn’t mind the rowing, though. After rowing away for hours, he landed at a beach. Nice. Seagulls in the background. He could get used to this, he thought, until his coach showed up. How…?
“GPS, my son, GPS. Why do you think I gave you that gadgety little watch?”

SERENDIPIDY

I bet they never trained you how to deal with this, did they?
Oh yes, you can kill a man with your bare hands, survive in the wild with no food or shelter, sneak up and overcome an enemy before they even know you’re there.
I know they trained you to resist any kind of torture, giving away nothing but your name, rank and serial number.
And I’m sure you’re very good at it too.
But they never trained you for this.
And it’s going to last the rest of your life.
So just say ‘I do’, and kiss me!

LISA

Welcome

“So, Welcome to Newton Manor.”

He pauses, smiles.

“There’s a train station nearby- it’s unused. The ticket office is in our grounds. When the house was built our ancestors had the village moved. The quickest escape would be to walk down the path following the old tracks. That said, I’m happy to drop you in town if any of you want to leave.

This is my brother, and since our parents died, we live here alone. It was nothing sinister, old age, but it has left us financially secure and potentially in a position to create something very special here.”

TOM

Penny a Point

I grew up a mile and half from the City of New Orleans tracks. On very still nights could hear it moving down the tracks. One of the joys of being a kid was taking rapped interest in semi-destructive acts. Take flattening copper pennies on train tracks. Not as easy as one would think. The speed and weight of the train play crucial factors in perfectly squashed coins. Also, age. Secondly even if you found the best location of the rails finding the pennies was another matter. Multiple squashes ruined the aesthetic. I have no idea where those pennies went

855

When Stripes Ruled

The United Mime Workers Union a was seriously bad ass union. Gave the Teamsters a hard run for the honors. You had to be hecka strong to free yourself from an unseen glass box. Find your way around imaginary invisible walls. They never loss an invisible tug of war. Never ones to be lifted into heaven by non-existent balloons. Go toe to toe with a man who could lift an impossibly heavy bag try that after 15 beers. Sadly, the Mime Works Union isn’t what it uses to be. Striking using imaginary lead pipe just does not cut it.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert and his parents walked to their car in silence.
He wondered what Sabrina was going to do now that her only relative was dead. Could she live by herself in Buhmilda’s meadow?
Once inside the car, Billbert’s father broke into his train of thoughts, and asked, “Are you going to tell us what happened, son?”
“Sorry, Dad,” he said, swallowed a lump in his throat, and went over the entire story.
“I want to see Sabrina in the hospital,” Billbert said when he was done.
His mother grimaced. “Not yet. You need to give her a chance to rest.”

PLANET Z

We tied the principal to the train tracks.
Then, we went to the all-night Taco Bell.
Over nacho supremes, we laughed and challenged each other to suck down one hot sauce packet after another.
We painted the parking lot with our vomit and stumbled back to the tracks.
The whole area was swarming with twisted metal and men in hazmat suits.
A train pulling chemical tankers had derailed.
“They’ve been exposed,” said a sheriff in a gas mask, pointing at the vomit on our shirts.
We were stripped, hosed down, had blood taken and tested, and kept for observation overnight.

CHATGPT

In the hushed symphony of wheels on tracks, Sarah found solace. Each rhythmic clack echoed her journey, stitching together fragments of her life. From the misty morning platform to the dusk-kissed horizon, the train became her vessel of transformation. Through frosted windows, she watched landscapes blur, mirroring the fleeting moments of her existence. Strangers became companions in this transient world, sharing tales untold. Yet, as stations passed like chapters turned, Sarah realized the true journey wasn’t measured in miles, but in the evolution of her spirit. And so, with every journey’s end, she found herself reborn, a traveler forever bound to the rails.

Weekly Challenge #938: Total Security

I think I mixed the ending a bit oddly… oh well. You can see the topic here:

The next topic is Train

RICHARD

Sold!

I bought it on Amazon: No, it wasn’t cheap, but maybe I was swayed by the product description.

‘Absolute peace of mind, and total security’, it said, and then to ram the point firmly home, it went on to detail exactly why I had no need whatsoever ever to worry…

Waterproof, leak proof and rot resistant. Non-fade, colourfast and hard-wearing. Biologically and dermatologically tested, additive free, hypo-allergenic and vegan friendly.

Safe, secure, tried and tested, and a lifetime no-quibble guarantee.

I had to have it.

If only I knew what the hell it’s supposed to do!

LIZZIE

The security unit monitored the whole house. Total Security, stated the ad. But the resident cat hated it. When the security unit started growling, the owners thought they were doomed. Killed by a security unit. The horror. Well, the unit was just bored. Eventually, the feline and the unit struck up a friendship when the unit started purring. The cat thought that was rather amusing. But then the security unit was fired for being too noisy. So, the cat made a big fuss. Long story short, the unit stayed. Cats rule. If they want total security, they get total security.

LISA

Where

We’re in a room with a huge fire. There’s cakes and tea. Our eyes are out on stalks but at the same time we all wince from the brightness. You can see for miles and yet you can see nothing. We’re remote. But based on the opulence of the room we’re in- this is not some rural backwater.

Our captor explains.

“It’s a gated property. You, the chosen ones, will have total security here- you can walk for miles and not meet a soul. We keep the gate locked. To stop outsiders getting in, not to stop you getting out.”

SERENDIPIDY

Good choice!

As panic rooms go, you really couldn’t do much better. Concrete walls, solid steel door with multiple timer-secured deadlocks and three-sixty external surveillance systems. Total security.

I see you’ve stocked up on supplies for at least a week too. That shows great foresight and planning. Well done.

Because, let’s face it, with a character like me stalking the neighbourhood, you really don’t want to be taking chances.

But, I do feel there’s something you may have missed.

A secure panic room is great, once you’re inside.

Not so good, if I got in there before you!

TOM

Not So Good

My wife works in a clinic. In the clinic are departments who would sell their first born for an extra 4 square feet. Now that square footage in her office has been usurped for reasons of security. In a safe of considerable weight are keep the holy grail of medicine. My wife doesn’t buy into admins reasoning for a safe in her office. They muse for the need for ToTaL Security: a safe behind a lock door. Gail pointed out there is an 18 inch window in her office. To maintain Total total security they moved it to the john.

854

Water Torture Remote

The codename for the project was: Water Torture Remote. DARPA funded it in the late 60s. The core of the project was to train solders in lucid dreaming. Once in a heighten state of consciousness images of prime targets would be scanned on the retinas. Targets were merged in dreamtime. At this point the suggestion that water was filling the targets lungs would be planted in the target’s consciousness. It almost worked; problem was the guys running the scanners got linked-in. Water Torture Remote took them out. Needless to say, the project was summarily defunded. Nothing in DARPA ever truly dies.

NORVAL JOE

“Come on, son. Let’s go home,” Billbert’s father said.
Billbert rattled the handcuffs. “I can’t dad.”
Billbert’s mother looked like she was going to grab Vattash by the throat. “Why would you cuff a child during a friendly chat?” she asked sarcastically.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry ma’am. It’s part of our total security protocol. Anyone under interrogation, or rather, questioning, must remain secured.”
“Fine,” Mr. Dinklehouser said. “We’ll have our attorney stop by and interrogate, or rather, question you.”
Releasing Billbert and blushing slightly, Officer Vattash said, “Don’t bother. Your son is no longer considered a person of interest.”

PLANET Z

A white van parked out on the street, TOTAL SECURITY in bold black letters on the side.
It hasn’t moved for 4 days.
I tried to look in the windows, but they’re blacked out.
I look up the license plates, and they’re registered to a company called Total Security.
Just a PO Box and a local phone number.
I call it, and it rings… but nobody answers, no voicemail.
I look up from my phone, and the van is gone.
Strange. I didn’t hear it start up or drive off.
I shrug and walk home, feeling somewhat insecure about reality.

CHATGPT

In a world where privacy was a luxury, Total Security emerged, a fortress of algorithms guarding every digital footprint. Citizens surrendered autonomy for serenity. Yet, behind the impenetrable walls, a whisper persisted—a clandestine resistance weaving through the binary maze. One day, the system faltered, a hairline fracture in its armor. Through that breach, a revelation surged—a reminder that true security isn’t found in surveillance but in the freedom to navigate without fear. And so, in the quiet hum of defiance, the seeds of liberation were sown, promising a new dawn where trust was earned, not coerced by the illusion of safety.

Weekly Challenge #937: Values

The next topic is Total Security

NORVAL JOE

A shocked expression flashed onto Officer Sheepdip’s face. Before she could close the door, Billbert shouted, “Mom, Dad. I’m in here.”
The door slammed shut.
Having been led through the office to the interrogation room, Billbert knew his parents must have heard him.
His parents burst into the room and seeing him handcuffed to the table, his mother turned on Vattash. “What are you doing to my son?”
Vattash stood, an embarrassed smile on his face. “Ma’am we were only having a friendly chat. I assure you, our agency values citizens’ rights and would never think to infringe upon them.”

LIZZIE

Comfort and quality. The true values of a traditional railroad company. And then there was Herbert, the old man who was the new employee. He made everyone’s lives as difficult as possible. When he kicked a passenger’s… backside… out of the train for complaining about everything, everyone was horrified. Why wasn’t he fired immediately? And then, they received a letter. He owned the company and gave all employees a share of it. And he did so, because he realized that dealing with the public was a pain in the… Comfort and quality, yes. But also respect for the staff. There!

SERENDIPIDY

Let’s play a game.

You’re on a crowded lifeboat, and some of you need to be thrown overboard, or none will survive.

Your task is deciding who lives and who dies, based on the perceived values, skills and benefits they bring to the group.

It’s not an exact science, but I’m sure there’s plenty of fun and interesting discussion to be had, and – at the end of the day – it’s the greater good that matters, not the needs of the individual.

Except for my needs.

Which is why you’re all in the lifeboat, and I’m still on board the ship!

LISA

He’s Back
He’s back, he looks like he’s really pleased to see us.

“Morning! Sorry I’ve been away, so long, I hope you’ve been well looked after? It’s time I explained things properly. I think it takes a near death experience to make you reassess your values, and appreciate what you’ve got and what you, perhaps, could have.

“Please. Come upstairs and get comfortable. I wasn’t planning on having that car accident so this explanation and apology is long overdue.” He’s exuding charm and care. We’ve spent months in his basement but he’s acting as if we’ve just popped over for tea.

TOM

A man’s reach should exceed his grasp.

What Timmy valued was last square of property in the worst street in London. Which had the worst meat-pies in London, but you could get a close shave upstairs. The value of that tiny plot of filth was small but the owner of same plot was adamite in retaining it. Timmy had exhausted all reasonable courses of action. Driven to a dark metaphysical opinion, Timmy summoned the likes of the companies founding father and his 16 feet of chains and chests. This should have done the trick, but Marley took a liking to the owner. They had tea regularly. Damn.

853

We think In Centuries

For centuries phosphors tied themselves in knots trying to find the evidentiary underpinning for a Supreme Being. Investigation into origins of this question often lead into speculation about the nature of a power much greater than ourselves. This lead to speculations about God; more specifically, arguments designed to establish the existence of God with the use of “unaided reason”. Example: “First Cause” argues there are events that occur now, and these must have been caused; however, for there to be events now, there must have been a first cause; that is God. In the end Evidence just wasn’t there. Bupkis.

RICHARD

Welcome to the real world

All day long, every day, I stare at spreadsheets, tracking the values of assets and projecting profits and gains based on historical performance?

Sounds really boring, right?

Believe me, it is!

It’s a job and the pay is OK. I guess that’s how it goes for most of us. We can’t all be brain surgeons and astronauts, right?

It’s just a case of ‘grin and bear it’ and pretend it’s better than it is.

So, when I tell people I work in a chocolate factory, and they say ‘Wow! Awesome! A real life Willy Wonka!”

I just smile, and agree.

PLANET Z

She held true to her values.
Buried in her white gown, flowers in her hair.
Untouched, unloved.
Found surrounded by books.
Poetry in so many languages.
Could she understand a word of it?
Paintbrush in her hand, a canvas on the easel.
Where was the paint? they asked.
Some say she painted with her tears.
Dabbing the brush to her cheek, the canvas.
Over and over.
Invisible skies, invisible flowers.
Invisible wind.
Paintbrush in her hand, head down, as if she were asleep.
A wisp of hair across her face, a gentle smile.
As if she’d just told a joke.

CHATGPT

In the heart of a bustling city, where skyscrapers pierced the sky, lived a humble old man named Isaac. Every morning, he sat on a worn-out bench, feeding pigeons with crumbs of his sandwich. One day, a young executive passing by tossed a coin at him, sneering. Isaac caught it, but instead of pocketing it, he returned it, saying, “Kindness is worth more than silver.” The executive paused, pondering. Weeks later, he returned, this time with lunch for Isaac, apologizing for his ignorance. From that day on, the bench became a place where values of empathy and respect intertwined, forging an unexpected bond.

Weekly Challenge #936: PICK TWO Urge, Infinitesimal, Scratch, Signal, Broken dreams, Arcade

The next topic is Values

LISA

Broken Dreams

The sound of a siren wakes us. It’s close and feels as if it’s above us. We scrabble together, unsure what to do, should we signal to them? Start shouting perhaps?

It raises the same unspoken question- we’re not really prisoners, are we? The basement door’s unlocked so we’ve no great urge to escape. Why shout for help when we could probably just walk out anyway.

“I think it was an ambulance not a police car.”

“I can never tell the difference.”

I wonder if Number 1 is back and whether we are, at last, going to get some answers.

LIZZIE

Broken dreams and a scratch. A deep cut, now nothing but a scratch on the surface of the skin, a faint recollection of pain. A deepness forgotten.
Broken dreams and the urge to speak, to shout a future lost.
In complete silence, in complete immobility.
Broken dreams and a second, only a brief second, a signal from afar, a thump, a thump, a thump…
The drumming, louder and louder. A cacophony of doubts building up.
Broken dreams now and yesterday, and now. Broken.
Dreams of futures unspoken. And maybe, just maybe one day, just one day…
Maybe broken no more.

RICHARD

The Game of Life

Welcome to the Arcade of Broken Dreams!

Here are the games of despair and the wasted efforts, the hours of fruitless endeavour, and hopes betrayed.

What will you play today?

Will you play the claw machine? Clutching futilely at your goals, teasingly just out of reach, until – tantalisingly close – they fall from your grasp?

Or perhaps you’ll choose the coin cascade? Feeding its hunger with all you have in the vain hope of winning big, but you never do.

Whichever game you play, you’ll never win. Your life will never change.

But, I know you’ll be back again tomorrow.

Guaranteed!

SERENDIPIDY

You’ll find the urge to scratch irresistible.

But, trust me, scratching is the very last thing that you want to do.

By now, your skin is paper thin. It’ll tear at the slightest touch, and you’ll soon be ripping your own flesh from the bones. I promise you, once you start, you won’t be able to stop.

So, I urge you, don’t scratch.

Resist the temptation.

Grit your teeth and hold on, no matter what.

I know you’ll give in, eventually, but please try not to scratch, just for a moment.

At least wait until I’ve turned the camera on.

NORVAL JOE

After the officer asked the same series of questions for the hundredth time, he said, “Okay. Let’s start over from scratch.”
Billbert had the urge to pound his head on the table. He interrupted the officer’s line of questioning. “Officer Vattash, you said you were going to call my parents hours ago. Why aren’t they here?”
Vattash shrugged indifferently. “Maybe they weren’t home.”
A female officer poked her head through the doorway. “Hey Vattash. The boy’s parents are here. They’re filing a missing person report.”
“Officer Sheepdip!” Vattash growled. He made an annoyed face and tipped his head toward Billbert.

TOM

It was the 80s

If there ever an Arcade of Broken dreams it surely was Pizza Time Theater. The second restaurant in the chain was located in the back end of Town and Country in San Jose. I spend hours their glue to a space invaders. The place was a mad house of kids running around. Parents throwing back beer and wine that was on tap right next to the fountain dispenser. Only thing missing was the paper umbrella. When the whole thing folded, I was on the chapter 13 crew to sort out assets. Got that very space invader cabinet for a song.

852 Airship Archimedes

In 1928 the airship Archimedes made its maiden flight. The DELG created a fight from Buenos Aires to Caracas. Of note Captain Juan Domingo Perón was on that voyage. The Archimedes flow for nine years. On the night of May 5 1937 the airship disappeared over the upper Amazon Basin. Production of Archimedes II was discontinued during the war. The hanger it was stored in were bombed by the British in 1943. The Archimedes III was launched in 2230 it made the run from New Atlantis to Zedi Prime on Mars. Archimedes III was blow-up by the October Rebels.

PLANET Z

Elmo is our robot dog, and it serves a lot of duties.
Going out for samples, fetching gear from the base, cleaning the floors, and the occasional dangerous duty.
We only get so many Elmos a budget cycle, so we have to retrieve any broken Elmos.
If they can’t be repaired, they end up as spare parts for the others.
Patterson likes to say “good boy” and pat Elmo after doing something for him.
Because Patterson knows all too well what happens when we don’t have an Elmo to send out.
“Suit up, Patterson,” says the base commander. “Be careful.”

CHATGPT

In the depths of an arcade, amidst the flashing lights and cacophony of sounds, Sam found solace. Each game offered an escape from reality, a chance to drown out the whispers of broken dreams. But tonight, an infinitesimal spark ignited within him, an urge to break free from the cycle of monotony. As he reached for his favorite game, a scratch on the screen caught his eye. Ignoring the signal of caution, he plunged into the digital world with determination. With each victory, he felt the weight of his shattered dreams lift, replaced by the promise of a new beginning.

Weekly Challenge #935: Stations

The next topic is PICK TWO Urge, Infinitesimal, Scratch, Signal, Broken dreams, Arcade

RICHARD

Written by a human

“And this is where the magic happens.”

Terry opened the door with a flourish revealing a vast open plan office, a sea of work stations, printers and telephones. All very impressive, but I was somewhat bemused by the lack of people.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Oh, we fired them. Replaced the entire workforce, apart from me – and you now, of course – with AI. Cheaper, more efficient and excellent results, every time.”

I was confused.

“So, where exactly do I fit in?”

“That’s simple, we need someone substandard to cock things up occasionally, and give the impression real people work here.”

SERENDIPIDY

This train only really stops at two stations, this one, where you join us, and the next stop – the end of the line.

I can see that you’re confused. You know there are several stops before yours, and you’re wondering why I’ve ruled them out.

The fact is, they don’t matter. You’ve never left the train at those stations before, and you won’t be doing so today. Actually, you won’t be leaving at your stop either.

You’ll never reach it.

I’ve removed a section of track, and the train will be wrecked.

It’s the end of the line, for you.

NORVAL JOE

As the police officer drove through the forest, Billbert wondered if Eureka even had a downtown.
He had been right to question it when the patrol car pulled into what looked like a strip mall and the city police and county sheriff had their stations in the same building.
They ushered Billbert to an interrogation room and locked one cuff to the table.
“Aren’t you going to read me my rights, or something?” Billbert asked.
The officer smiled congenially. “You’re not under arrest. We just want to talk about some things.”
Billbert looked at the handcuffs and raised an eyebrow.

TOM

I’ve been a Bowie fan since 1969. Same year Space Oddity came out, the who released their rock opera. It was pretty cool in the late 60s to be named Tom. Saw Bowie and the Who in the late 80s. What I remember from the Who concert was hearing loss. What I remember of the Bowie concert was an amazing rendition of Station to Station. It is always best to barely listen to Bowie lyrics, unless you’re a Talmudic scholar. From Kether to Malkuth is ref to The Tree of Life. Bowie was ice masquerading as fire.

PLANET Z

Carrier pigeon arrives, and we unseal the tube.
A black scroll falls out. We thread it through the playback machine and listen.
Hill seven… fifteen minutes after midnight.
The sergeant gets the troops armed and ready as we look over the maps.
There’s no way to hill seven without running into the enemy.
Maybe if we set a few diversions… light a few fires…
But the enemy knows our tricks.
We think it over in the mess hall… maybe…
We have the cook lay out his best stuff… lure the enemy in…
And the troops head out to hill seven.

CHATGPT

In the heart of the city, amid the flurry of commuters and echoes of announcements, stood a forgotten station. Its platforms weathered with time, its benches worn with stories untold. Each day, a solitary figure, Alice, arrived, not for a destination, but for memories. She’d sit, tracing the lines of graffiti etched like whispers of rebellion. Here, time danced backward, revealing moments lost in the rush. Conversations lingered in the air, laughter echoed through empty corridors. In this station of shadows, Alice found solace, lost in the poetry of forgotten journeys. For in stations, past and present intertwine, stitching tales of transient souls.

Weekly Challenge #934 – Register

The next topic is Stations

RICHARD

It’s me

I was the one who never paid attention in school.
I was the one who spent time doodling, rather than studying.
I was the one who never got good grades.
I was the one who never cared about grades anyway.
I was the one who didn’t turn up for the last two years of school.
I was the one who only got a minimum wage job.
I’m the one who works on the checkout.
But you never see me.
I’m the one crouched beneath the register.
I’m the one making the ‘boop, boop’ noises as the cashier scans your goods.

LISA

FACTS

We set about collating the various newspaper articles we’d found and created a makeshift register, it felt good to have a task, something to do.

Two girls- never been here in the basement- DEAD

Ten Boys- not here MISSING

And our names. All fifteen of them.

We use a separate page for each name and add dates of birth, ages, eye colour, where we worked, lived, and were taken. I was trying to find a pattern or connection but apart from the fact we’ve been sharing a basement for months; there doesn’t seem to be much else that links us.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m here, although you never acknowledge me.

Always with you, biding my time, just waiting for my moment. I barely register in your consciousness, and you may never even discover me there, but be assured, I am.

So, I wait.

And, just maybe, one day I will burst forth and reveal myself and all that I am.

All that you are.

When the chain snaps, and the gloves come off, you’ll see me for who I am.

I am the murderer, the avenger, and the destroyer – the secret side we all harbour. Never revealed.

Did I say never?

Maybe not!

LIZZIE

To attend the Social Club, one must register by performing a few tasks. A first edition for the library, one gold coin for the coffers, and a finger. At first, he assumed it would be his fingerprint. No, an actual finger and not his own. Well, that could pose a challenge. They nodded. He tried. He did. But who would’ve thought people were so attached to their fingers… He ended up hiring a squirmish hitman who refused to do the chopping. Then, he hired a butcher with morals. And here he was, at the Social Club, but not that one.

TOM

Explore the Fascinating World of Machine Language.

When I was a kid there was this cool educational toy call the Visible Man. A clear plastic shell will all the organs in primary colors. Later the VISIBLE V8 Internal Combustion Engine arrived. There was even a Visible Horse. Fast forward to the heady days of Apple 2e when shelves of program vied for your computing interest. An offering called Visible 6502 caught my eye. Thought it would have the same cool effect as the old models. Nope, a grid of hex-s flowing though registers. Watching an Accumulator accumulate not exactly quality entertainment. What it needed was Blinkenlights.

Here’s the Deal

I’m not a consistent dealer. In spite of hours of poker play I haven’t quite got the knack of counting to five. Why do my friends allow be anywhere close to a deck? I deal amazing hands. Often the best cards anyone has had in their life. One evening I dealt Don four queens. He framed the cards. Another night I dealt a royal flush. That one sadly only got Robert 50 cents. Over COVID I created a magic deck that deals out infinite royal flushes. Trick only works if you can count to five. Still working on that part.

NORVAL JOE

Paramedics worked on Mr. Withybottom as they passed the wrecked Continental.
Billbert hoped it would register when he shouted, “Linoliamanda is okay. She’s in the meadow with Sabrina.”
Sitting in the patrol car, Billbert looked at Sabrina’s blood on his hands. “Those are my friends in the meadow. Is Sabrina going to be okay?”
The cop looked at Billbert in the rearview mirror as he backed onto the dirt road. “Fine way to show your friendship by shooting them.”
“You need to find that septic tank guy. He’s the shooter,” Billbert pleaded.
“You need to shut up,” the cop sniped.

PLANET Z

My grandfather ran a grocery co-op in Downtown Chicago, serving corner bodegas and convenience stores for decades.
There was a massive brass antique cash register in the office.
As kids, we’d play with it. Until we got bored.
My grandfather would leave some coins in the register.
I don’t know if these were meant for us, or he knew we’d take the coins whether they were gifts or not.
We also climbed the stairs to the loft where the candy was stored, and stole that.
I always feel a little guilty going through the candy aisle in the Circle K.

CHATGPT

In the quiet of a dusty bookstore, an ancient register nestled amidst forgotten tomes. Its brass keys whispered tales of countless transactions, each one a chapter in the store’s history. From the excitement of a child’s first book to the solemnity of a final purchase, it bore witness to life’s passage. Yet, as the world outside changed, the register remained steadfast, a guardian of memories. Its worn buttons, a testament to time’s relentless march. And though technology advanced, its simple elegance endured, a beacon of nostalgia. For within its polished frame lay not just records, but echoes of bygone eras.