Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #923 – PICK TWO Aurora, Hard to believe, Contribution, Crew cut, Dealers, Dirty

The next topic is Pillows

RICHARD

Dave

Hard to believe that Dave is leaving the company after thirty years, the place won’t be the same without him.

We couldn’t let him go without an appropriate gift, so I was tasked to collect a small contribution from all his co-workers to buy something suitable.

It was tricky. What do you buy an accountant, with no apparent interests?

He was universally hated by pretty much everybody he worked with, which was reflected by how much his collection totalled.

Just enough to buy a ‘Sorry that you’re leaving’ card, and nothing more.

Serves him right, for being such a jerk!

TOM

The Plan

It is hard to believe that something could abide beyond are ability to descript it. But there hides in the leaves, swirls in the clouds, darts in the flames is: Atopy. A concept describing the ineffability of things or emotions that are seldom experienced, that are outstanding as original in the strict sense. Were as Profanity and vulgarisms can easily and clearly be stated, but by those who believe they should not be said, they are considered ineffable. Thus, it is the invisible battle between good and evil that rages about us. Only the Contribution of grace maintains the balance.

840

Just a guy from the north side.

My dad was a spook. The Navy Korean Conflict or as the guy in Naval Intelligent point out one beat away from World War Three. He was enlisted, pretty much a grunt. But he had a single grunt skill: printing. With a life long love of offset, he hoped to work for R.R. Donnelley after the war. Figured a tour in the navy would give him a leg up towards employment. The navy’s need for a printer was to process the mountain of incoming recon Images. So, at the tender age of 22 my father got a life-long security clearance.

LIZZIE

“My name is Aurora,” she said out loud over and over again. There were only a few days left till the end of the year. She was ready. Leave, she thought, leave. Go make your dreams come true. The dreamcatcher freed you from your nightmares. Just go. And she packed everything she had. A moment of hesitation made her stop. The door was open, just waiting for her to leave. She looked at the wall. “Come,” she said. “Come with me.” She took the dreamcatcher with her, an entanglement of past tears, hope and healing. “Aurora. My name is Aurora.”

SERENDIPIDY

You think you know me, but I have a dirty secret.

Trust me, it’s a secret that you’ll find hard to believe.

It’s not the body count, the horrors I keep in my cellar, or the way that people who cross my path mysteriously disappear.

You already know those things, they aren’t exactly secrets. After all I write about them every week in these stories.

My secret is far darker, so much more disturbing and goes way deeper than anything you think you know about me.

But I’m not going to tell you… because then it wouldn’t be a secret!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert scowled at Sabrina. “It’s hard to believe you could be so rude and turn your back on your cousin when we all came to Buhmilda’s place to escape the Black Knights.”
Just then a rusted and dirty jeep burst into the meadow headed for Linoliumanda.
Billbert levitated and shot forward hoping to grab Linoliumanda in time. He was afraid he was too late, when Buhmilda raised her hands, clapped, and a sinkhole opened before the jeep and it and its occupants dropped out of sight.
In tears, Sabrina shouted, “I don’t know why you like her more than me.”

PLANET Z

Deep in the Duchy of Yon, Castle Windbreak is a sight to behold.
Marble and onyx, pearl and gold and silver.
From the magnificently painted vault ceilings to the deepest dungeon, an exercise in opulence.
Those who break the laws of The Duchy find themselves in the greatest luxury.
For just one day.
The guards wake the prisoners up from their comfortable beds and drag them to… The Pit.
Rotting bodies, crusted-over bloodstains… and yet, it was magnificent somehow.
So magnificent, prisoners barely notice the headsman’s axe.
The guards wash themselves afterwards, don clean uniforms, and return to their duties.

CHATGPT

Amelia, with her crew cut and indomitable spirit, ventured to the Arctic, chasing the elusive aurora. The kaleidoscopic lights danced, a celestial contribution to her dreams. As she marveled, a grizzled old local whispered tales that seemed hard to believe — ancient stories of mystical beings cloaked in the northern lights. Determined, Amelia discovered a hidden society of aurora guardians, their existence unknown to most. Dealers of cosmic wonders, they entrusted her with the responsibility of preserving their ethereal legacy. With dirty secrets unveiled, she became a guardian herself, forever connected to the mesmerizing, untold realms of the polar night.

Weekly Challenge #922 – The lion who ate cherries

The next topic is PICK TWO Aurora, Hard to believe, Contribution, Crew cut, Dealers, Dirty

RICHARD

Mahimba

Mahimba the storyteller struck an imposing figure in his tribal robes, and tonight – as always – he had a captive audience.

He was relating ‘The lion that ate cherries’, and other than his deep, sonorous tones, you could have heard a pin drop.

All too soon, it was over and the tourists made their way to the bar, topping up on drinks in preparation for Mahimba’s promised next story: ‘The dancing hippo’.

We made a killing at the bar on story nights, and Mahimba did extremely well from the tips.

As for his stories… Authentic African folklore? Nope. Complete fabrications? Absolutely!

SERENDIPIDY

As dictators go, he was probably one of the worst. Ruthless, heartless and despotic. Intolerant of opposition, few dared to challenge him, and those who did would come to a sticky end.

They called him ‘The Lion’.

And, he had a fondness for cherries. Expensive delicacies in this country, but money was no object, and he demanded the very best. So, the very best, he got.

Every day, he’d feast upon huge bowls of luscious, ruby red cherries, spitting out the stones as casually as he despatched his enemies.

Cherries, lovingly and carefully prepared by me.

Copiously laced with cyanide.

LIZZIE

He was furious. The Lion That Ate Cherries? What kind of a Xmas gift was that?! He was a writer. He wanted books, not worthless pseudo-art. And, on top of it all, that creepy cousin, smirking… No! And then, it hit him. The photograph. He remembered the photograph. “I’ll take it. The painting, yes.” Everyone mocked him. He smiled. Two weeks later, he arrived at a remote village in Africa. An elderly woman opened the door. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Right there, a whole library of first editions, rare books, a dream come true. “Your grandfather knew you’d understand.”

TOM

The Lion The Monk and the Mouse.

Most folk know the Koan about the Monk and the strawberry. In that same canon was: The lion that ate cherries. On a hill a Lion spied a Monk crossing a valley. He was very hungry. At his good fortune he gave out a mighty roar. Hearing said roar the Monk took off running. All day the two ran, the Lion never gaining on the Monk. Finally, the Monk spied a Cherry tree. He clambered up with the lion on his heels. The Lion dropped spent on the bottom of the tree. Now all he had to do was wait.

839

Train

Unseen in the branches was a field mouse. He noted the monk but kept his eyes trained on the Lion. While both were quite dangerous, the greater danger thought the mouse was being eaten. The Monk started throwing branches at the lion, the lion didn’t mover. The mouse began gnawing at tiny branches. A cherry dropped, the lion caught it and purred. The Monk joined, together they stripped the tree of all the cherries. The Lion slowly roses and walk back to his hill. The Monk and Mouse gave praise to the Budha. Limbed down the tree, and waked away.

NORVAL JOE

Buhmilda continued. “There are a lot of children’s songs that seem innocuous, but are actually used to encourage magical abilities. ‘Ring around the rosies’, ‘London Bridges falling down’, and ‘The Lion that ate cherries'”.
Linoliumanda’s eyes lit up. “I know them all. My daddy sang them to me for years. I should have magic then, right?”
Buhmilda gave the blond girl a sad look but Sabrina took advantage of the question. “No. It just shows you’re a dope. If you had magical abilities, you’d have learned some by now.”
Shell shocked by Sabrina’s rudeness, Linoliumanda wandered back across the meadow.

PLANET Z

It only took a generation to transform the studio from a beloved institution to a bomb factory.
Instead of giving audiences the entertainment they wanted, the studio greenlit projects that ticked the boxes woke social media activists demanded, but never actually paid for.
When management tried to steer the company back to sanity and profitability, radicals in the rank and file protested until the board, contrary to profit-seeking board behavior, replaced the management with their own handpicked radicals.
Pressure mounted at other studios to follow the radical studio’s trajectory.
Instead of surrendering to the mob, though, they fired the radicals.

CHATGPT

In the moonlit savannah, a lone lion with fur as dark as the night discovered a mysterious grove of cherry trees. Their blood-red fruits glistened, tempting the beast with an otherworldly allure. Ignoring instincts, the lion devoured the forbidden cherries. As the juices trickled down its jaws, an eerie transformation unfolded. Its eyes glowed an ominous crimson, and a malevolent hunger gripped its soul. No longer the king of the jungle, it prowled the shadows, a sinister creature haunting the dreams of those who ventured too close. The once-majestic lion, now cursed by the sinister sweetness of cherries, hungered for more than flesh.

Weekly Challenge #921 – Eaten by lions

The next topic is The lion that ate cherries

RICHARD

Uncle Derek

Uncle Derek came to a rather unfortunate and grisly end: eaten by lions in the heart of Africa.

At least, that’s what we were told as kids. The reality turned out to be somewhat more prosaic.

Uncle Derek was actually in prison, doing a fifteen year stretch for drug dealing, following a raid at his local pub, ‘The Heart of Africa’.

Our parents didn’t want us to grow up with the stigma of his misdeeds, so they made up the lion story.

Which makes me wonder if Aunt Ethel really was abducted by aliens, like they always told us happened.

SERENDIPIDY

What would you rather?

To be torn apart by sharks, or eaten by lions?

It’s a serious question -enquiring minds need to know.

How about being flayed alive, or burned at the stake? What’s your preference?

Boiled in oil, or incarcerated in concrete?

I know you’re thinking none are particularly pleasant ways to die, and you’d rather not choose.

Which is just as well, really, since it’ll be me deciding anyway.

And, frankly, I’ve no time for any of that nonsense.

Too complicated and messy.

It’s a simple, single bullet to the temple for you.

You’ll be just as dead.

TOM

I’ll be carrying a copy of war and peace under my left arm

Arthur bemoaned the fact the best code phrases and mission ops had been used up. It was a lot like the lack respect you would get for Hurricane Lulu in spite of her 250 mph winds. Gone was the eagle has landed, or Operation Desert Storm. Even that meeting next to the Brandenburg gate with that wraithy thin east German lass who insisted on using: In winter the snow is deep. Eat by Lion, come on what kind of secret code is that. I was pretty much at that moment he saw the large cat. Eyes above the square smiled.

838 – Every good intention

No good deed is left unpunished is a wristed phrasing by my name’s sake Thomas Aquinas who wrote in Summa Theologica: For as punishment is to the evil act, so is reward to a good act. Now no evil deed is unpunished, by God the just judge. Therefore, no good deed is unrewarded, and so every good deed merits some good. My favorite is Jan-Michel Vincent. in August 1996, He sustained a permanent injury to his vocal cords from an emergency medical procedure after an automobile accident. It left him with a permanently raspy voice. So he sued the EMTS

LIZZIE

He grabbed the book Eaten by Lions. The book was in the secret room.
Gladiators, hungry lions. Boring. On top of it all, the blasted book weighed a ton.
One day, two days, and his hair turned gray.
Three days, four days, and he looked like a 90 year old man.
The book changed too. It looked less dusty, less moldy.
And he couldn’t remember a single word.
But why did his master want him to read that book?
When he exited the tower, he understood why.
His 90-year old master looked much younger.
Eaten, but definitely not by lions.

TURA

Eaten by Lions

———

It was a long, hot drive to my daughter’s commune, deep in the savannah. Her invitation had surprised me after our estrangement over her fanatical veganism, but I had to see her.

We walked out together, and I was reassured to see them managing the place competently, an oasis amid the scrub and acacia.

While pondering our unspoken issue, I suddenly realised she wasn’t at my side. In the distance she screamed “Die carnivore!” I made for the compound, but found the gate locked, the walls unclimbable.

Night fell. Soon, I heard the distant growl of a lion. Then, more.

NORVAL JOE

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Of course you know that song. Everyone knows The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”
Linoiumanda shook her head, closed her eyes, and sighed, trying to maintain her patience. When she stumbled over a clump of weeds, she opened her eyes and scowled at Sabrina. “I know that song in the original Swahili language and it tells of an entire village of people eaten by lions.”
Sabrina scoffed.
As they reached the cabin, Buhmilda said, “She’s right Sabrina. Much of our magic is tied to Swahili tradition. And that song, specifically is used in testing babies for magical ability.”

LISA

The Truth is out

Pippa has understandably been living in fear of her police identity being discovered. In the little bit of fitful sleep that she manages she has a recurrent dream about being eaten by lions.

The girls huddle together for warmth. They share stories about fictional worlds. Books and Films seem safer than talking about who will be missing them at home. Some things are too emotional for a semi dark basement in December.

They hear the first door being unlocked. Unsure whether to get excited for food, or fear what might happen.

It’s Pippa he’s come for.

PLANET Z

I was an intern at the zoo for a summer, and I learned a lot about the things that happen behind the scenes.
Cleaning the cages, vet care, guests who do dumb and strange things.
One dumb guy was trying to get a selfie at the lion pit and dropped his camera in.
Instead of calling for help, he tried to go in and get it himself.
We got good video of it on the surveillance cameras.
It’s the highlight of the blooper reel they play at holiday parties at the zoo.
That, and when the slushie machine blew up.

ChatGPT

In the heart of the African savannah, a daring photographer sought the perfect shot. Ignoring warnings, he approached a pride of lions, camera in hand. As he crouched for the ideal angle, the predators stirred. Suddenly, the tranquil scene erupted into chaos. The lions, hungry and provoked, surrounded him. His lens captured the intense stare of the alpha lion before the inevitable unfolded. Nature’s power overwhelmed the audacious photographer, consumed by the wild. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving only echoes of a foolish quest. In the circle of life, the camera remained, silently documenting the untamed fate he had met.

Weekly Challenge #920 – Trailers

The next topic is Eaten by lions

RICHARD

At the movies

They say TV is no substitute for movies on the big screen.

But, to be honest, going to the cinema can be a depressing experience.

To begin with, there’s the hassle of parking the car, then you have to queue for tickets, before bankrupting yourself buying popcorn and coke in quantities that could feed a third world country for a week.

Not to mention fighting your way through miserable people already comfortably seated to get to your own seat.

But worst of all, realising the movie is total crap, and you’ve already seen the only good bits in the trailers.

LIZZIE

A pot of tulips. Why hadn’t she tossed it in the garbage when Mr. I-Love-Tulips left her? No, she took it to the trailer, all she could afford now. When enough tulips had bloomed, she cut them all off and sent them to his workplace, with a note. “You forgot these.” Yes, it was petty. Yes, it was vindictive. However, she decided to grow some more tulips and send them to him for his birthday. She was sure he’d be horrified to see tulips without a pot. Dead and all that. Life’s tough. But at least, he would have tulips.

SERENDIPIDY

I was brought up in one of these trailers.

Trash, they called me, and they may have been right, but I really didn’t care.

I filled my days with hard drugs, moonshine and whoring.

Although, to be clear, I did none of that myself. I was more a coordinator and manager; or if you prefer, dealer and pimp.

Eventually, I became a major player, and if not gaining the respect of my community, I certainly commanded their loyalty.

Now I’ve risen to the top of the pile.

I still live in a trailer, although with gold fittings and satin sheets.

LISA

Too Much Information

There’s been false lead after false lead. It’s not just the local community gripped by this case now it’s the whole country. And it seems they all want to help.

The latest wild goose chase gets the force checking trailers at the stud farm. All the leads are checked out but now with one of their own amongst the victims the police seem to be working with a renewed energy.

The papers are quick to point this out too. The chief had wanted it keeping quiet, for obvious reasons, but now our man knows Pippa is on the force too.

TOM

Coming soon to a theater near you.

Bruce had been making trailers for a generation. He started at Warner’s. Moved to Universal. Spent a decade at TriStar. After becoming dissolute with the industrial model. Bruce only took offers from Indie productions. He knew deep history on that subject matter. He would tell you the first trailer was in November 1913 for the musical The Pleasure Seekers Due to trailers initially being shown after, or “trailing”, the feature film, the term “trailer” was used to describe the promotion; despite it coming before, or “previewing”, the film it was promoting. His current project was Mother Teresa: Last Nun Standing.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert rode in the back seat of Buhmilda’s car with the two girls. He assumed Mr. Withybottom had gone home and not followed them through the evergreen covered hills to Grandma Buhmilda’s log cabin. She parked her car in a big red barn across a meadow from the cabin. Around the meadow, a half circle of rusty old travel trailers were evenly spaced between the cabin and barn.
As Buhmilda lead the kids back to the cabin, she began to sing at the top of her lungs.
Linoliuhmanda wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Hey. I think I know that song.”

PLANET Z

Walt Disney’s dream was to build the city of the future.
Hub-and-spoke peoplemovers, green spaces and company towers, and multiple levels of tunnels to handle freight and waste and deliveries.
It was perfect… too perfect.
After he died, the board and managers met and scaled back his dream to a bunch of theme parks and resorts.
And a government that the company controlled by filling two small trailer parks leased out to reliable company shills.
So taxes went from one pocket to another, safety laws didn’t apply, and everyone was beholden to The Mouse.
And it all came crumbling down.

Weekly Challenge #919: Contact Lens

The next topic is Trailers

LIZZIE

“What kind of flower is that?” She asked.
“This is a very special flower,” he answered.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a contact lens. It helps us to see the future.”
She looked unsure.
“The future?”
“Yep.”
She looked even more unsure.
“How so?”
“Look.”
Then, he whispered and the flower wavered slightly in the wind.
“In a year’s time, this garden will be wonderful, full of life, and filled with beautiful flowers. You know why? Because when you cherish something, everything flourishes.”
She smiled.
Just as he thought, that small flower helped with a lot more than the future.

RICHARD

In the eye of the beholder

I thought she had the most beautiful blue eyes, until we hooked up, and I found out she was wearing tinted contact lenses.

I could live with that, thanks to her gorgeous, long golden hair, until the night I ran my fingers through it, and the wig came off in my hands.

At least she still had a figure to die for, until I realised the breasts were fake and she wore a corset.

The worst part was discovering one of her long, shapely legs was false, when she took it off at night.

She had a lovely personality though.

LISA

Deceptive Appearances

His eye colour seemingly changes with every visit, I thought I was mistaken at first but I think he’s wearing coloured contacts.

With all days blending into one it’s hard to remember things. I chant them to keep them fresh in my head, hoping I’ll survive and need to use them as evidence. It’s hard and I’ve got a permanent tension headache. But what else can I do?

The girls tentatively told me earlier that there were others down here but he took them and didn’t bring them back. I don’t, and won’t, tell them about the bodies we found.

SERENDIPIDY

Lost your contact lens, are you quite sure?

Come closer and let me look.

No, it’s still there, in the corner of your eye. Hold still and lets see if I can slide it into place.

Oh dear. Me and my fat fingers! This isn’t working.

What I need is something thin to slip under the edge, and ease it across.

Maybe this razor blade will do the trick?

Now, what did I say about holding still?

Stop squirming, won’t you?

Oh my goodness!

I told you not to squirm!

On the bright side. You only need one lens now!

TOM
NORVAL JOE

Billbert stood at the door to Grandma Buhmilda’s Biscayne, ready to climb in.
“Linny,” Mr. Withybottom growled at his daughter. “Come with me.”
She glared at him with one eye nearly closed as if she had lost a contact lens. “No. I’m going with my friends.”
“They’re not your friends. Now, come on,” he said much louder.
“Yeah, Lindy,” Sabrina sneered. “We’re not your friends. Go with daddy.”
Linnoliumanda’s face dropped at Sabrina’s declaration.
“Don’t listen to her, Linnoliumanda,” Billbert said. “You’re my friend, and whether Sabrina admits it or not, you two are cousins. Maybe you have magic, too.”

PLANET Z

Tiffany wore glasses.
She shuddered at the thought of sticking something in her eye.
She couldn’t even bring herself to use eyedrops.
The best she could do was stand in the shower with her eyes closed, face the shower head, and open her eyes.
And even then, it took a lot of will to open her eyes.
When her eyesight got worse, she was offered the chance for surgery, but just the thought of it… she would rather go blind.
“We can knock you out for it if you like,” said the doctor.
Counting down from ten, fading into sleep.c

Weekly Challenge #918 PICK TWO Brand awareness, Lot, Random, Envision, Dozen, Secretary

The next topic is Contact lens

TOM

Small Pleasures

Jimmy’s dad was a working-class man. A time where the color of your shirt outline the vocation that selected you. Despite limited funds in their home, Jimmy’s day faithfully every Saturday morning wake him up for a trip to the Bakery. It was Jimmy’s job to choose a random dozen donuts for breakfast. He knew his mother favorite and each sister’s. His younger brother would eat anything within 14 inches of his mouth. Choosing for Dad was always a challenge. He didn’t have a sweet tooth like the rest of the family. So, Jimmy chose one stuffed with olives

LISA

November 23rd

Christmas had crept into the incident room a week ago with random cards on filing cabinets and some very incongruous tinsel. I’m only there today as a picture on the wall.

So, the police now know who’s doing this. Except they don’t. Only I do and I’m locked in a basement with a dozen faces that are all more familiar than I’d like them to be.

I’ve told the girls I’m police. I try being upbeat; a lot have been here for months. I try not to think of the faces on that board that aren’t down here with us.

NORVAL JOE

A dozen teenagers gathered in the empty lot across the street from where Billbert sat on the curb.
Buhmilda shoved some bread into his mouth and said, “Swallow quick. Those people over there aren’t some random crowd of onlookers.”
When Billbert’s vision cleared, he saw the burly crowd of yellow-toothed Black Knights, and jumped to his feet.
Buhmilda looked to Mr. Withybottom. “Well, Cuz? Should we take the kids to your place, or mine?”
Linoliumanda’s father looked aghast. “Why do we have to take them anywhere?”
Buhmilda shook her head sadly. “Climb in kids.” And motioned them to her car.

RICHARD

Sold!

I’d never been to an auction before, but I was having fun.

I placed a few practice bids on random items, just to get a feel for things, in readiness for the lot I’d had my eye on right from the start.

Just a suitcase, one of a number of lost luggage lots, and despite the stories of people finding all sorts of expensive surprises in them, I’d a sneaky suspicion the auction house went through them beforehand.

I just wanted the suitcase: perfect for my next holiday.

I won!

The suitcase, and the twenty kilos of cocaine it contained!

LIZZIE

The secretary was rushing back and forth, folders everywhere. She was so upset that a pile of papers started to spin around all the way to the ceiling. “What’s happening?” She threw her hands in the air. “Brand awareness report. I have 10 minutes. 10 minutes?!” He offered to help, but at that point everything was beyond any help. “I quit, there.” And she stormed out of the office, a trail of paperwork swirling behind her. He just stood in the corridor, wondering how she had managed to get the papers to do that, a shiver going down his spine.

SERENDIPIDY

As an apprentice, I’d had it drummed into me: Brand awareness. Nail that, and everything else falls into place.

Your clients should be able to make that instant association, must be able to envision what the future will look like; how it will feel; how you will change their lives.

It all comes down to brand awareness.

It’s something I’ve never forgotten, and I’ve always striven to put it first and foremost into every interaction, with every client.

Like right now.

“It’s red hot” I say to them, turning the brand in the flames.

“This is really going to hurt!”

PLANET Z

I won’t be going to the local donut shop anymore.
All the register girl has to do is put on a plastic disposable glove, pick out donuts, put them in bags or boxes, and push a few buttons on the register.
It’s not like she has to make change. The credit card reader does all that.
And yet, the last screen on the credit card reader asks how much I want to tip them.
I press NO TIP, grab the bags, and head to the car.
It’s not like they can spit on my food, because I saw it all.

Weekly Challenge #917 – Bread

The next topic is PICK TWO Brand awareness, Lot, Random, Envision, Dozen, Secretary

LIZZIE

“Bread crumbs, I need bread crumbs,” thought the restless crow. He wasn’t hungry. He just wanted bread crumbs. He read a story about dropping bread crumbs to leave a trail. He wanted to leave a trail! People would trickle out of the forest into the open field and marvel at his beauty! But he found no bread crumbs. He did consider resorting to his collection of glass eyes, but it was becoming more and more difficult to steal them from grumpy Old Maggie. So, he just sat on his scarecrow and waited. And he waited for a very long time!

RICHARD

All natural ingredients

Times have been tough since the Great War, but we survivors are tougher still.

We manage to get by on the bare essentials, and where even the bare essentials are lacking, we improvise.

Take our bread, for example: Flour is hard to come by, so we substitute sawdust instead. It makes for an interesting texture, but the flavour’s not too bad.

Mind you, if it wasn’t for the bread we’d starve.

That’s our diet: Bread and water.

Except the water is polluted, and the rain is far too acid to drink.

I won’t tell you what we substitute for water!

SERENDIPIDY

Smells can be so evocative.

Some may enthuse about the aroma of freshly baked bread, the fragrance of newly mown grass or the perfume of night scented stock on a warm spring evening.

Homely, comforting smells.

Not for me though. My tastes are very different.

In fact, those smells make me want to vomit.

Give me instead, the honest, ferrous tang of freshly spilled blood, the sweet smells of death and decay. Better than any bouquet of flowers or the most expensive of perfumes.

And above all, the dank, earthy aroma of the grave.

The smell of home, sweet home.

LISA

A Despondent Incident Room

Another day and another late afternoon briefing; there’s another three photos up on the board. It looks like our man’s working a lot harder than we are. He’s giving us nothing, and we’re working right round the clock.

I’ve not had a meal at home for weeks now. Mum’s doing me double sandwiches.

I used to eat at my desk but I can’t eat with them watching. It doesn’t feel right. They’re all around my age: I think all the women feel the same: it could be me up there. The bread from the uneaten sandwich hardens on my desk.

TOM

Pore more Sugar on It

Going Meta-Meta tonight. My personal rule for writing is: the first thing that lands in my head it the central theme of the story. It can produce some pretty weird stuff. Take tonight’s topic: bread. Before I could take a stroll down memory lane of my years working in a Bakery. I was the guy who choose how many loafs of vegetable herb we were delivering to San Fransisco. But No, what popped in my brain pan was Bread the band. And I use that term generously. If you took rock and roll and dipped in sugar Bread would come out.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliumanda continued to ignore her father’s requests to get into the car until he was clearly ready to blow his top. Red faced, he got out of the car and stomped his size fourteen wingtips toward her.
Just then, a rusty, late 50’s, Chevrolet Biscayne, huffed and rumbled to a stop next to them. A gray-haired woman in a bright orange mumu under a olive rain poncho climbed out, carrying a small brown loaf of bread.
Mr. Withybottom’s jaw dropped. “Buhmilda. What are you doing here?”
The woman smiled at Mr. Withybottom. “I could as you the same, Cousin Charlie.”

PLANET Z

Tonya went to school and opened a bakery.
Hired a few of her neighbors and friends, worked long hours.
Everybody got paid well and got great benefits.
She even covered child care, which for single mothers, is everything.
Then the riots came.
Her bakery was broken into and burned to the ground.
The security company kept the video off-site, so she watched as one of those friends used her keys to open the security grate to get inside.
And set the fire that consumed her business.
All her hard work. All she did for others.
Years of sacrifice.
For nothing.

Weekly Challenge #916 – Stolen

The next topic is Bread

LIZZIE

“Nothing but a crappy painting. A bunch of odd flowers on a dark blue background,” she said. The neighbor advised her to have an expert look at it. “Preposterous!” She knew her art. So, she tossed it in the dumpster. When it was dark, the neighbor grabbed it. He wasn’t stealing it! He had it appraised and… it was worth a million bucks! He bought a new house and a new car and told everyone he had won the lottery, just in case. Oh, and he still drives by the old house to check the neighborhood dumpster for crappy artwork.

RICHARD

Stolen!

I’ve been a victim of identity theft.

Some lowlife criminal is pretending to be me. They go through my trash at night, and somehow they’ve stolen my credit card details and the passwords to my social media.

To be honest, I’m not that bothered about it.

In fact, I’ve been leaving personal information for them to discover for quite some time now.

My credit has been maxxed out for years, my social reputation is at an all-time low, everyone’s chasing me for money.

Now, I just blame the scammers.

I’m perfectly happy to let them take on my failings!

LIZZIE

Stolen

We’re now knee deep in November and no further forward with the case. A case so clueless it doesn’t even have a catchy name yet, just an awful lot of missing women.

Inside is brighter than outside, the mood lower than the cloud on the moors. Oddly, it feels like the sun coming out when after discovering another body we realise he’s taken a necklace from this girl too.

It’s not much is it? But it’s something, another piece in the puzzle and progress of sorts. Our man takes souvenirs. We just need to find him and his treasure chest.

SERENDIPIDY

Sixteen years they kept me chained in the cellar.

My youth, stolen, thanks to their evil deeds.

They’re dead now, by my hand, and nobody holds me responsible. They had it coming, they say, deserved everything they got.

I’m happy to let them believe that.

But the truth of the matter is that they never locked me in the cellar at all. I made it all up – a story to justify my actions, and everybody believed me.

My youth wasn’t stolen at all. I had a great time growing up, I just hated my parents.

So, I stole their lives.

TOM

All the Presidents Kids

He always knew the election was stolen. That other dick had been a better dick by rigging the total in the city. I was child the time that happen. I was a very young man the second time, but a well place young man. I was on loan to Joe Woods group was a single propose. To route the calls from down state. IT was simple hack that surely would be fixed in the next election but not that night. The numbers came in late the so the Chicago machine could offset total, Nixon take the state, wins the election.

NORVAL JOE

Sabrina pulled out her phone and called her grandmother. “Hi Granny…”
She held the phone away from her ear and Billbert could hear the old woman shouting.
“No,” Sabrina said. “No one had stolen my phone. It’s a long story, but we’re in town and Billbert’s eyesight’s been stolen, and half his hearing.”
She put the phone back to her ear as her grandmother had stopped screaming.
“Yes. I know that’s a classic Black Knight’s move, but I can’t do anything about it. Can you come straighten him out?”
She put her phone away. “Grandma Buhmilda will be right here.”

PLANET Z

The Bleeb are an ancient race.
Once rulers of a massive empire, reduced to wanderers of the galaxy, searching for the remnants of their shattered homeworld.
Scanning… testing… analyzing chemical signatures…
Piece by piece, they reappropriate their planet.
Gathering asteroids, hurling the massive rocks through hyperspace channels.
Lifeless planets to shatter and sift.
It is when there is life that the moral question rises.
The Bleeb are honest brokers, and offer fair compensation.
Transport to new worlds. Terraforming technology, vast eons of knowledge to impart.
Some resist.
Just more to sift through when the Bleeb shatter their worlds to dust.

Weekly Challenge #915 – Detail

The next topic is Stolen

RICHARD

An Eye For Detail

Apparently, I have an eye for detail.

It’s both a blessing and a curse: Colleagues are always grateful when I spot their errors, particularly when it comes to reviewing important reports, checking figures on spreadsheets or the content of presentations.

Then again, it can be a pain in the butt constantly getting pestered by other people asking me to sense check their work.

Some days, it seems all I’m doing is sorting out other people’s mistakes, which means my own work is always rushed, and I rarely have time to do it properly.

Tha’ts whu its alwtys full o mistkes.!

LIZZIE

The doors to the art exhibition opened and a flood of enthusiastic visitors roamed the room. One piece in particular caught everyone’s attention. “The detail is remarkable,” they said. “Art is a remarkable… thing, isn’t it?” And someone replied “Yes, it is, remarkable!” People stared at three copper panels, a nose and two eyes, gigantic and kind of lopsided. “Just remarkable!” And this continued for hours, the word remarkable passing on from visitor to visitor like the plague. Suddenly, the eyes bulged and the nose sneezed on the stunned visitors who quickly decided that art wasn’t that remarkable after all.

SERENDIPIDY

You’ve heard the expression ‘the devil’s in the detail’, but I guess you’ve always taken it to be just an idiom.

Not so. If you look closely enough you’ll find that, hidden within the detail, the devil is indeed lurking and, what’s more, he’s looking closely at you too.

Wherever there’s complexity and confusion, he’s there, and the closer you look, the more absorbed you become, the closer he gets to you and the more absorbed into your life he becomes.

Until, finally, without even knowing it, you’ve become the devil…

And you’re screwing up the detail for everyone else!

LISA

The Search

The wall is full of more faces since you were last here. Fresh faces of women in their late teens and early twenties with the whole of their life stretching before them.

This is no casting couch. This is not the hunt for the star of a West End Production. We’re deep in the East End looking for their abductor, perhaps their killer, the reason why their loved ones haven’t seen them recently.

We’re convinced they’re all connected. And just need one tiny little detail, a miniscule clue that helps us link and ultimately find them.

It’s not looking promising.

NORVAL JOE

Because his vision had gone completely and his hearing was reduced, Billbert could only listen as Linoliumanda explained in detail how she had not followed anyone and the root of their problems was actually Sabrina.
All the while, Mr. Withybottom kept shouting, “Linny, get back in the car.”
Billbert sat on the curb.
Sabrina asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Billbert sighed. “I can’t see anything.”
Sabrina scoffed. “You shouldn’t have left out that detail. It’s a classic Black Knight move.”
She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my grandmother for help. Linnyninny, why don’t you listen to daddy and go?”

TOM

No Way Out
It was not so much Timmy was stupid as he was missing one important detail. Without it one would just wander down blind alleys. The missing detail was in plain sight. The man in the café saw to that. The man in the café was placed between a rock and hard place to kept Timmy in play in spite of those who were hell been to tube his career in the eyes of the high council and the elliptical reasoning of the protractor’s guild. The detail was flower in the vase: Semper Augustus. Timmy touched a petal absently. So close.

PLANET Z

I think the last time I played soccer was for the residential college’s team, where I was used as a scrub placeholder whenever a starter needed a minute or two on the sideline to catch his breath.
Another player took me out from behind, and I landed on my head.
I got up and ran back into play, yelling like a maniac… after being knocked out cold for two minutes.
Twelve men on the field. My last-ever yellow card.
And a Miller Lite in a bloody towel held to my forehead as I stumbled laughing to the First Aid Center.

Weekly Challenge #914 – PICK TWO Points, Vision, Fuel, It’s a pattern, Cheers, Refreshment

The next topic is Detail

LIZZIE

Black and white. A vision of nothingness inside a vision of everything.And he points. No one knows.
And he moves forward, alone. The balloons he ‘s holding will be black. The stars hanging from them will be black.
And the more they fly, the less white he will see.
And nothing is there anymore. Just stars hanging from balloons, flying away in silence, ahead of him. No one knows.
And he stops. He wants to smile, but he can’t.
Three cheers and all that. Be brave and all that.
Black and white. A vision of everything ahead of nothing.

RICHARD

Caught!

If she points at you, you’re dead.

Your only hope is to stay out of her field of vision, make no sudden movements, and keep a low profile.

You might, just might escape her notice.

It’s not guaranteed though: She has eyes like a hawk, and few can avoid her gaze.

With these words echoing through my mind, I selected my position with care, keeping to the shadows, careful not to draw attention to myself.

Then, I sneezed.

Cover blown!

To my horror, her finger pointed straight at me.

Chosen by the teacher to answer the question on the board.

NORVAL JOE

“You want out?” Mr. Withybottom asked Billbert and unlocked the doors. “Cheers.”
Sabrina sat on the sidewalk side of the car, and Billbert asked her to open the door.
“I’ll come with you,” she said and got out of the car.
Linoliumanda quickly followed Billbert out, too.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “It’s a pattern, Billbert. You can see that, can’t you? Everywhere we go, she wants to follow.”
Billbert watched as Linoliumanda’s eyes filled with tears of rage and she shook her finger at Sabrina.
Then his vision went black and the two girls’ voices were muffled as they argued.

TOM

flogging will continue until morale improves

They called the program F-T-V. The joke around the office was it stood for Fuck TV. 30 staff crammed into a tiny room staring at a Zoom screen. In bright primary colors the monitor read: Fuel The Vision. It was Sam’s idea to bring in a motivational team to boast productivity. The life coach was perky in the most detestable manor. Radiating a millennial affect that did not sit well with the senior staff. And I mean senior, most of them were Boomers long overdue to leave the work force. The last virus had taken out the under 40 cohort.

SERENDIPIDY

It’s all down to science. By examining the points where blood has pooled and spattered, one can deduce how the victim died, how violent the attack and where each individual wound was inflicted.

To you, it may look like a complete mess, but to an expert it’s a pattern as clear as any map.

Take this crime scene, for example: I can tell the victim suffered initial, violent blunt-force blows, scattering blood spots across the wall, and the fatal wound was a slice to a major artery.

Not that I’m any sort of forensic scientist.

I committed the crime!

LISA

October 27th 1978

The incident room smells of men. The incident room smells of men with creased shirts. The incident room smells of men with creased shirts and creased faces. It’s been a long monotonous day and is far from finishing.

A squealing wheel heralds the arrival of the tea trolley. The missing girls watch the tea being poured from their photos pinned around a local map. Pippa hastily swallows her digestive.

“Is there a Petrol Station on the B28?”

“Yup. Texaco.”

“It’s a pattern… Look!”

She points around the map explaining her reasoning feeling like, perhaps, today some progress has been made.

PLANET Z

The local grocery store chain offers fuel points.
It doesn’t have any gas pumps at any nearby location.
I have no idea where else I can redeem them.
For thirty years, I’ve been accumulating fuel points.
So, my card has like a million fuel points on it.
One day, I’m going to find a location with gas pumps.
And I’m going to stand out there, filling up everyone for free, and spraying gas everywhere and laughing.
What do I care how much it costs… I have a million fuel points.
Although, I’m going to need to buy a car first.