Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #1036 – Twist

The next topic is Dear everyone

RICHARD

Twist
I hate how the world has become so dumbed-down. When did the human race descend to the level where everything has to be explained to them?
Have we really become so stupid we need instructions to complete even the simplest of tasks?
Please hold the hand rail’, ‘Push to exit’, ‘Twist to open’… I mean, come on, are we really that thick?
Then I watch the news, scroll through social media and find myself coming to the conclusion that, just maybe, we are.
Only the message we need isn’t ‘Twist to open’, it’s ‘Wake up and smell the coffee!’

LISA

A Need for Something Sweet
Neptune was angry. He pummelled the pier until the wood weakened and split. The end of the pier snapped into the water; the waves could lap at the shop then. Licking the windows trying to taste what was beneath. The weight of the water behind the waves splintered the glass and it gave way. The shop had been selling traditional sweets since the pier was built. Sweets that no one under thirty had even heard of never mind tried. Aniseed Balls and Candy Twist. A jar of bonbons bobbed in the sea then crashed against a rock. Neptune was calmed.

LIZZIE

Write the story of your life, they said. It’ll be a success. And she wrote the story. It wasn’t fine and it wasn’t a success. Why? Because the story had one character. She was the main and only character. Her story wasn’t that interesting, she thought. Born to a family of crazy people. Small town, crazy school. Moved to the big city and got a fancy job that paid well. Then, she decided to write her story. The intrusive thoughts took over and she was done. The moment she jumped off the bridge, she thought “I’m crazy enough to fly”.

LEWIE

Oliver Twist’s parents were out of town,
vacationing.

He hosted a party
full of energy and music.

There was someone in the other room
playing a game of Twister,
shouting, “Left hand Blue!”

His friend Ernő kept to himself,
sitting in a large armchair,
twisting a Rubik’s Cube,
and Timmy tested Tibetan tongue twisters.

Chubby Checker started singing the twist.
Outside, a twister formed — the ultimate plot twist.
The television died.
Henry screamed.

His mother scolded him for twisting her TV rules.

He blamed his twisted sister’s
twisted sense of humor.

“But it is the theme, isn’t it?” she chuckled.

SERENDIPIDY

Why does the twist always have to come at the end?
Why not the beginning? (The butler did it! There: I saved you a long read).
Or perhaps the middle? I think that would be a real twist… You’d never have seen that coming.
But no, we always pin it to the end, often the last chapter, maybe even the very last page.
So predictable, so dependable, so very boring.
So, I’m not going to do it.
You’re coming to the end.
And, there is no twist.
Really. I mean it.
And you still got to the last line anyway.

TOM

Like we did last summer

If you weren’t an Aruther Murray prodigy, social dancing was problematic. Spent time at many a Polish wedding hugging the wall. Then as if a gift directly from the gods came: The Twist. A dance that remained in my skill-set deep into the 80s. The trick is to look exponentially cooler is lower till your knee are nearly scrapping the dance floor. By 1993 I had all but lost this skill, but then who among us could have competed against the like of Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. And that Italian kid. Wonder if she can still cut a rug.

NORVAL JOE

Mandi shoved the magnifying glass into the pocket of the baggy cat pajamas borrowed from Mrs. Weinerheimer and followed Billbert down the stairs. Standing by the kitchen table, covered with other arcane devices, Billbert said, “Okay. Let her out.”

Mandi twisted the handle of the glass in her pocket back and forth, hesitating. Her bottom lip quivered. “Do I have to? She’s so mean to me.”

“Show Sabrina you’re better than that,” Billbert suggested. “That you’re kind.”

She pulled the magnifying glass from her pocket and looked into it.

Sabrina appeared and frowned. “Why are you guys staring at me?”

PLANET Z

Cindy woke up, sitting in a chair.
She tried to get up, but she was tied to the chair.
She looked around, some kind of dark basement.
A door opened, a man came down the stairs.
It was the singer, Chubby Checker.
And he was grinning.
“Do you want to twist again,” he said. “Like we did last summer?”
“No,” moaned Cindy. “Not again.”
She remembered the bruises. The pain.
The shame.
Checker wagged his finger.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “Just like this.”
Then he held out his hands, reached over to Cindy, and…
Cindy passed out from screaming.

Weekly Challenge #1035 – PICK TWO Stings Low flying Supply Clothes pegs Stick

The next topic is Twist

RICHARD

Plump
“What do you think?”
As pouts go, it’s fair to say this one resembled an inflatable dinghy stuck on her face in place of a mouth.
“What on earth have you done?” I asked.
“Bee stings” she replied, “It’s new at the beauty salon for the plumpest lips ever. It is rather expensive, though.”
I asked her how much. She told me.
“You have to be joking!” I spluttered. “I can do the same, for free.”
She gave me a disbelieving look, “Go on then”.
I grabbed a handful of clothes pegs.
“Clip these on for a bit”, I said.

LIZZIE

It stings. How about this one? It stings too. But what is happening? All the dresses sting? The whole supply is ruined. Who bought the fabric? Some obscure assistant took a step forward. Where did you buy the fabric? Where?! The assistant spun around, and laughed demonically. This is revenge, she said, I should be the head designer. Now, everyone will die. She spun around again and ran away. Everyone looked stunned. The fabric was disposed of by biohazard teams. Everyone was checked at the hospital, and no one died. The financial hit was catastrophic. And that was the revenge.

LEWIE

Zip!

“What was that?” asked John, as he dodged and touched his ear lobe.

Phittt!

John looked back. Nancy was throwing clothes pegs at him from her supply.

“We are over!” she exclaimed as another low-flying peg clipped his forehead.

“Over?” John asked. “We were together?”

Another peg smacked his temple as he fell into the clotheslines.

“Wait, wait, wait! Were we really together?”

SLAP!

Nancy tightened the strings around him with more clothes pegs.

“Don’t ever tell me you’re tied up, unless I put you there,” she demanded.

“I’m tied up,” he whimpered.

“Good riddance!”

“I love you?”

“Fine.”

TOM

Döstädning

A term in Swedish: to de-clutter so your friend doesn’t have to wade through the bio-mass of your stuff. Well, that didn’t happen so armed with def-con level three cleaning supplies I enter day 7 of: The night of a Thousand CDs. I soldier on despite the cat pee. Somewhere middle pile I come across a Cd labeled: No Strings. A groundbreaking work. I figure it’s a revival production. On closer inspection it turns out to the Broadway original. I pop it in the player and I drift back to my mom’s Living room in the 60’s. Not dead yet.

NORVAL JOE

“Yes, I want you for myself,” Mandi said, turning her back on Billbert. “It stings me that I knew you first. I fell in love with you immediately when we flew together on my birthday. Then all she had to do was stick that ring on your finger, and you were hers.”

Billbert put a hand gently on her shoulder. “I do like you a lot. Probably more than Sabrina, but I don’t think we should leave her trapped in a magic magnifying glass.”

Disappointed, but resigned, Mandi said, “Okay. Let’s go down to the kitchen to let her out.”

SERENDIPIDY

I went to school with a girl who was allergic to bee stings. Just one, and she’d swell up like a balloon.
I thought it was hilarious.
My grandfather kept a number of hives and made his own honey, so I had a reliable supply of bees, which I’d collect and capture in a jar. Whenever lessons got boring, I’d release a few into class and enjoy the mayhem that followed.
I never got found out.
Which is a good thing, really.
Especially after she choked on her tongue and died on the classroom floor.
Nature can be a bitch!

PLANET Z

The new girl showed up in a full body, black cloak and black gloves that completely covered her body. The kids that sat next to her later said she smelled like a dead person. Maybe she was? A zombie reanimated and scientist put her in a third grade classroom in Paducah Kentucky. Most kids would tease and torment a kid like that, but we were raised better and smothered her with politeness and kindness. I guess all the attention caused problems because after a week she was gone. Sam say she moved. Others say her family killed her for socializing.

Weekly Challenge #1034 – Experiment

The next topic is PICK TWO
Stings
Low flying
Supply
Clothes pegs
Stick

LEWIE

Champion of the Backyard Games

Harry had a spear.
It had a minty smell.

He thought he was being funny,
humming music
as if he were in the Olympics.

He stuck his finger
in the mint flavored wind
and looked at a big red X
in the distance.

“…and the crowd looks on in anticipation,”
he announced.

He held up the spear
and ran.

He held his hand back
and threw it
at the target.

“DEAD CENTER!
…and the crowd goes wild over the X Spear mint!”
he exclaimed.

He danced with joy,
jumping up and down,
donning a medal
made of yarn and tin.

LISA

Traditional meal with a devilish twist
Emily does all the cooking in the house. She’s quite an experimental cook. Her husband isn’t in much he works late, comes home, eats and heads out to either the gym or pub.
Tonight, Emily’s frying 4 garlic cloves with some mixed herbs and fresh chilli. She adds breadcrumbs, a tin of beef cat food chunks and some ground glass. When it’s cool she forms it carefully into meatballs and cooks a tasty tomato sauce.
Then she boils spaghetti, plates a meal for her husband’s return and goes up for a bath. She never feels like eating after she’s cooked.

LIZZIE

Magic, he said, neon blue small creatures swimming in the garden lake.
So many, she said.
They will stay small like that.
And how many do you have?
He grinned. A lot. To breed them, he had added a few “ingredients” and look, a ton of cute little neon fish!
But isn’t it dangerous? What if…?
He laughed. I know what I’m doing!
The next day, the city faced an infestation of beautiful neon highly poisonous tetrapods reminiscent of Komodo dragons, just lighter and faster.
I guess he didn’t know what he was doing, she thought, hiding in her attic.

RICHARD

Experiment 785
Experiment seven, eight, four.’
Subject remained viable for six hours following administration of the new formula, before losing consciousness. Death within nine hours; no pain or discomfort exhibited’
I paused the recording and sighed. I was wasting my time.
Wasting my life.
The door flew open and a flustered, excited Watson burst into the lab.
“We’ve done it! We fed the data into the AI and in less than five minutes we had the answer… A formula that works perfectly!”
He left, just as abruptly.
I sighed again.
“Experiment seven, eight, five”…
I plunged the needle into my own vein.

TOM

Too much time on my hands.

Of late I have been spending more time Experimenting with underdeveloped drinking experiences. Experiment One: Tuna Fish milkshake. Not a winner that one. Experiment 37: Seaweed Lemonade. Its time will come. Experiment 146: Non-alcoholic single malt. So close yet so far. My latest experiment is Carbonated Coffee. In the tradition of Manhattan Special Inc who have been selling bottled coffee sodas since it was founded in 1895 by Italian immigrants to Brooklyn. My humble addition to the mix is Watermelon juice, liquefied pistachios and a sprig of kale. Wondering. In a six pack or liter? Calling the product Buzz Bubbles

SERENDIPIDY

I thought I’d try a little experiment.
Instead of the usual diet of death and depravity, how about something a little more palatable?
Something suitable perhaps for Valentine’s Day. Maybe with marshmallows and unicorns, fluffy bunnies and heartfelt wishes?
What do you think, should I give it a shot?
OK, here goes.
Once upon a time, in the land of Sugar Marshmallow, there was a Unicorn named Oscar, who was madly in love with a fluffy bunny called, Veronica.
They sneaked behind some bushes to get to know each other better.
But, unfortunately, Unicorns don’t really fit inside bunnies.
Splat!

NORVAL JOE

“How’d Sabrina get in a magnifying glass,” Billbert gasped.

“Well, we were at the kitchen table, looking at all her stuff. When I looked through the magnifying glass, objects disappeared from the table until I looked through the glass a second time.” Mandi shrugged. “Sabrina started out as an experiment. Once she was inside it, I thought, why not just leave her there.”

“But why would you leave her in there,” Billbert asked.

Mandi looked away. “She’s not very nice to me. And this way I have you all to myself.”

Billbert was shocked. “You want me all to yourself?”

PLANET Z

Johnson was a wild-hired ghoul, sitting on his porch, tormenting any unlucky tourists who accepted the invitation through his gate to suffer his rambling lectures on his take on history and politics and the ungrateful students who burned the man in effigy who paid for the tuition that kept them out of the war.
Nixon’s war. It’s Nixon’s war now.
Some tourists, he’d shepherd into his massive car, and he’d drive like a maniac on dirt roads, shouting at cattle and sipping from the whiskey he kept in a plastic cup in his lap.
Stopping, getting out, pissing, and sighing.

Weekly Challenge #1033 – Vanishing Point

The next topic is Experiment

RICHARD

Perspective
“Do you understand it now?”
The blank look on my face said it all. I didn’t have a clue. My art teacher sighed and tried again.
“Perspective is all about giving a realistic impression of depth, so you pick a single point on the horizon -the vanishing point- and imagine all the sight -lines converge at that spot.
I frowned in confusion. I’d always wanted to be a painter, but this was just confusing.
But, I did become a painter, of walls, doors, ceilings, skirting boards…
Not sure my art teacher would be impressed.
It all depends on your perspective!

LIZZIE

“Draw a circle. And another inside it. And another, and another. The vanishing point is a full stop. A full stop inside an O. The circle is gone, it has no meaning as a circle anymore. It became an O with a full stop in the middle.”
“What?!”
“Perspective. Interpretation. Meaning.”
“Excuse me, Professor, but…”
“You don’t see it? You draw a circle and it vanishes into an O! It’s extraordinary!”
They didn’t see it.
The Professor was forced to retire, but he smiled. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He could finally sail away, vanishing into the horizon.

SERENDIPIDY

“Mayday, mayday, mayday! Air Angel four six two, we have experienced an explosion on board and we have a serious cabin fire. Advise heading for nearest airport.”
I hit the emergency button, summoning my supervisor as I responded.
“Air Angel four six two, Jekyll Military Base is eight miles to your North, heading Two Eight.”
I stared anxiously at my radar; Air Angel a glowing dot, slowly traversing the screen.
Would they make it?
Then, the point of light simply vanished.
Inwardly, I smiled with satisfaction.
The bomb I’d arranged to have planted in the hold had done its job.

LISA

A packed room with standing room only. The smell of a long day’s armpit lingers.
“Well, this is the last known sighting since the latest…” the captain pauses for the right word, “…vanishing,” points at a local map on a whiteboard with photographs surrounding it. “It’s the Brotherhood place again.”
The room is quiet as everyone stares at the sea of blonde college girls.
“Sadie’s number nineteen. She may well be there voluntarily but we need to get into their compound and talk to her. And soon.”
The door opens. “Another three Sir, just reported missing from a local school.”

TOM

I don’t get much of an opportunity to use my classic training in art. So now I will carpe diem you all with knowledge like it was 1444. The first modern paint is the Baptistery. Les Demoiselles d’Avignon 1907 is the first post-modern painting. Oddly the latter fails to have a vanishing point. Vanishing Point: The single spot on the horizon line where receding lines appear to meet. It replaced atmospheric perspective which was basically glosses of fuzzy blue. The Florentine Fillipo Brunelleschi painted it 1415, it depicted the Baptistery in Florence from the front gate of the unfinished cathedral.

NORVAL JOE

“I thought that since Sabrina’s gone, the ring might come off,” Mandi explained.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Billbert tried to shake off the confusion of sleep. “She’s got to be here somewhere.”

“No. She’s trapped in a magnifying glass. Come see.” Mandi led the way back to her room.

She opened the drawer, wondering if Sabrina would appear, there, in the room or back at the vanishing point in the kitchen.

“Look.” Mandi held up the glass.

Billbert’s eyes went wide.

Not looking at it, Mandi shoved it back in the drawer, relieved that Sabrina had stayed inside.

LEWIE

As Jim drew lines on his drawing, a paradoxical view of stairs and archways started to form on the paper, similar to M.C. Escher’s Relativity stairs. The tip of his pencil came too close to one of the vanishing points, and it sucked it out of his hands.

Jim looked closer, confused as to what just happened. He tried to brush some graphite away from the area, and was suddenly sucked into the drawing.

Looking at his hands, half of them were drawn, and partially unfinished. He looked up to see a hole closing, peering back into his classroom.

LEWIE

As Jim drew lines on his drawing, a paradoxical view of stairs and archways started to form on the paper, similar to M.C. Escher’s Relativity stairs. The tip of his pencil came too close to one of the vanishing points, and it sucked it out of his hands.

Jim looked closer, confused as to what just happened. He tried to brush some graphite away from the area, and was suddenly sucked into the drawing.

Looking at his hands, half of them were drawn, and partially unfinished. He looked up to see a hole closing, peering back into his classroom.

PLANET Z

We found Jimmy hanging in his dorm room.
He hadn’t showed up to study group that morning, and Elise had his room key.
We cut him down, checked his pulse, and called the campus police.
They showed up, asked a bunch of questions, and the real police came and asked us more.
We shouldn’t have cut him down.
We shouldn’t have touched him.
We shouldn’t have disturbed the scene.
Meanwhile, Elise hanged herself in her room.
We got there in time to save her, but we did what the cops had told us, and she died before they showed up.

Weekly Challenge #1032 – Fancy

The next topic is Vanishing point

LEWIE

I saw an advertisement. It was a feast fit for a ruler of house cats. There was meat, treats, and fancy cat nip.

What’s fancy about it you ask?

Well, there’s a normal, plain cat nip that loses its scent the moment it hits the floor. The dried out flakes have no smell at all.

But the “fancy” catnip? Oh boy, I’ll tell you. The POWER… It’s out of this world! If you haven’t experienced it before, I don’t know how to express what it is. It’s definitely the cat’s meow.

You’ll be seeing time shake hands with colorful sounds.

LISA

Knick Knacks aren’t Chocolate Bars
The sign above the door read, in twisting ornate script, ‘Purveyor of Fancy Goods’. Geoffrey’s shop did alright, its coastal location guaranteed swift summer trade and Christmas saw them through the winter months. Nothing was priced which made a few people uncomfortable. It was so he could lower prices for those he thought couldn’t afford things. If a child was looking for a gift for a parent, he usually just gave it to them – a matter that was, strangely, never abused. Geoffrey ran gnarly fingers through his silver hair and whispered to the empty shop ‘I must find an heir’.

LIZZIE

A ship docked at the cruise terminal. The luxury included a VIP meal, a VIP ball, and a scare. The previous events had been so much fun, they heard. The meal was scrumptious and the ball was a lot of fun until the hall was invaded by armed men in balaclavas. Everyone laughed. It was the scare! So much fun! And then, the black tie event became a whole lot more expensive. When they were finally freed, millions had been transferred away, and the armed men were long gone. “Well, we sure got a lot more than we bargained for.”

RICHARD

Ink
“So what do you fancy then?”
I looked up from the catalogue, “I’m still not quite sure. I’m torn between the snarling tiger and the skull with the serpent in the eye socket… Although, I quite like the big eagle.”
I could tell the tattooist was losing patience, can’t say I blamed them: I’d been trying to choose a design for hours.
I came to a decision.
“The snarling tiger. Right across my back.”
“You do realise how painful that will be, right?”
“How painful?”
“Extremely.”
I changed my mind.
“In that case, just a small anchor on my shoulder!”

TOM

Case of the Eye of Horus.

The years is 1897. Fancy Watercress is stand in the bow of Nile Queen making its way to Luxor. Small eddies of water roll by. In her had is the Egyptian papyrus she stole from the museum. “Daddy will compensate them for their loss,” Fancy mused while loading her revolver. Seem the one of the crew is not dressed as the rest of the crew. She flips open the cosmetic compact. She sights sends sailor over the rail into the Nile. The captain eyes Fancy with new held respect and guns the engine. The sun set in the desert sands.

SERENDIPIDY

I handed over a copy of the menu.
“Please do let me know if you have any allergies, and anything on there with the green symbol is a vegetarian option.”
“Let me run through today’s specials. There’s pulling out your fingernails with pliers, double thumbscrews with the knuckle cracker side, or I’d recommend the red hot poker up the rectum.”
At this point, they began to struggle, but the chair held them tightly.
“Let me know when you’re ready to order, and I should tell you, we take payment in advance, it avoids complications later.”
“And please do tip generously!”

NORVAL JOE

Linoliamanda went back to the guest room and opened the dresser drawer. The streetlight outside the window illuminated the fancy gilt edges of the magnifying glass.

She wasn’t an awful person like Sabrina, yet here she remained with the other girl trapped inside of a magic glass. And for what, so she could have Billbert all to herself? He wore a ring that bound him to the little witch.

Maybe the ring could be removed now.

Mandi snuck back into Billbert’s room, crept to his bedside and found his hand.

She pulled on the ring.

Billbert sat up. “Now what?”

PLANET Z

Sitting there, on my porch, was an angel.
There are three kinds of angel here: Messengers, Mission, and Judgment.
The angel sat there silently. I waited for a while. Still nothing.
So, not a messenger.
I looked around. It didn’t seem like it had stopped something horrible happening to me, so it probably wasn’t on a mission.
Not on a mission. So…
It stood up and drew its sword.
And the look it gave me.
That’s not a good look.
So, its a judge.
So, I ran.
I know, you can’t outrun fate… or an angel.
But I ran anyway.

Weekly Challenge #1031 PICK TWO Hush Beauty Chisel One-eyed owl Interceptor

The next topic is Fancy

LEWIE

The one-eyed owl had a chiseled jaw line. His hushed beak made him the perfect interceptor. Glaring silently at any who dared approach, he rarely spoke.

The moon’s beauty in the night would have its light reflected from all who approached, timid and uncertain. He would ask the question of, not who, but whom?

It was rumored that only the lollipop guild was able to pass, once they answered a question central to the forest’s concerns. Not of smoking forest fires, hooting over campgrounds, crying over garbage, or plows destroying the lands of mice.

Just a centralized accounting of consumption.

RICHARD

Just Joking
It was only a joke, but she wasn’t at all impressed.
She said she was off to the beauty salon for a makeover.
I laughed; told her she’d be better off going to the local building site rather than the salon, “Make -up isn’t going to fix that” I laughed, “hammer and chisel is what you need!”
She was not amused.
Knocked me out with a frying pan, and when I came to, I found myself with my feet in a bucket, full of set concrete.
“Hammer and chisel is what you need!” She laughed, and left me to it.

SERENDIPIDY

The professor peered at the markings on the wall, muttering to himself, “Scarab beetle… dog… obelisk… one-eyed owl… What on earth could it all mean?”
He beckoned me over, “You’re the expert, can you make sense of any of it?”
A subdued hush descended upon the tomb as I examined the hieroglyphs.
“It’s a curse” I concluded. “You will not leave this place alive.”
He laughed and told me he had no time for curses, that it was all nonsense.
I reached for the knife I’d concealed in my jacket.
“Nonsense?” I murmured, “Well, we’ll soon see about that!”

LISA

Poker Face
The room was hard to read. The one eyed owl particularly seemed to be bluffing but the magpie kept putting more money on the table. I thought I had a good hand, but folded early.
I left the table to get another drink, possibly not the done thing, but I didn’t exactly know the rules in this town. When I returned the air felt different. The mood lighter. The hush of earlier was gone.
The owl stared at me – seemed he’d just been winking earlier. I knew then it was time to stop and try to find my way home.

LIZZIE

“Hush,” he said.
“They are coming.” The fear was palpable in her voice.
They could hear her, the interceptors. They could hear her breathe. They could hear her heartbeat. The vibrations of their humming resonated on the walls.
He covered her with his body. He used to be like them, intercepting to drown the resistance.
But she’d changed everything. Her eyes. Her smile, despite everything. And in a heartbeat, he wanted to protect her, to keep her alive.
The humming became distant.
“We’re safe for now”.
And she smiled that smile that almost made him believe he had a heartbeat.

TOM

My last duchess

Maximilien Franklin entered the room through a door that had not been opened in 60 years. The light from his candles caught the spectral array of swirling dust set in motion by the passage of his even strides. On the far wall was a draped painting Max had heard about from his material grandmother. He removed the covering and the hush that hoovered in the room joined a frozen heartbeat. He thought he was ready for work of the Italian master, but the beauty captured in her sad smile brought Max to tears. His hand trembled as to touch her check.

NORVAL JOE

In the hush of midnight, Mandi’s own footfalls sounded as loud as a hammer on a chisel. She hurried across the passage to Billbert’s room.

He sat up groggily as she stopped at his bed. “What’s going on?”

“Do you know of any ghosts that live in your house?” Mandi whispered. “I heard one walk into my room.”

Billbert mumbled, “I didn’t think ghosts lived anywhere. Did Sabrina hear it, too?”

“I don’t know,” she tried to evade. “She’s not in her bed.”

Billbert lay back down and closed his eyes. “Then it was probably just Sabrina leaving the room.”

PLANET Z

Jack used to complain that portions in this country were way out of control. On the one hand, fast food hamburgers are now the size of mini sliders and king sized candy bars should be labeled court jester size. Pathetic. But at sit down restaurants, sometimes it takes two waitresses with platters to bring out your dinner plate. And your drink needs a lifeguard and Floaties. Maybe even a diving board. They charge you extra to share a plate, so you’re paying them for someone not to order. I can’t tell if this is my straw or a pool noodle.

Weekly Challenge #1029 – Broken light bulb

The next topic is Paranoid

LEWIE

George had an idea.

It wasn’t a bright idea.

It wasn’t even a good idea.

In fact, it wasn’t even a bad idea.

Suffice to say, if you could see the physical manifestation of it, you would only find a broken light bulb above George’s head.

The idea wasn’t original.

It was common.

Or… at least, it used to be.

George’s idea was no longer with the times.

People moved on.

They found better lighting.

They upgraded.

George was in a closet, alone in the dark.

He was trying to find a light switch when most people talked to Alexa.

LIZZZIE

At the thrift shop, he spotted an artist’s mannequin with a lightbulb for a head, leaning against a tarnished mirror. It’s broken, they said. But he bought it anyway, and placed it on the mantelpiece. There was just something about that small fragile wooden figure. The next day, the mannequin was gone. Who took the mannequin, he shouted. Not me, everyone replied. He searched the whole house, and found the mannequin leaning against the full-body mirror in the bedroom. He could’ve sworn that there was a faint glimmer in that lightbulb. Perhaps the mannequin wasn’t that broken after all.

RICHARD

Light bulb moment
They say Christmas is for kids but I’ve never agreed, although these days it’s really not like it used to be.
Forget the old clichés about commercialisation or the true meaning of Christmas; it’s technology that’s ruined it for me.
Specifically, LED fairy lights.
Back in the day, it was almost a yearly rite of passage to dig out the fairly lights and spend hours of frustration hunting for the one broken light bulb in the tangled mass, before the satisfaction of seeing them burst brightly into life upon finally finding the culprit.
And now, it’s just not the same.

SERENDIPIDY

The glass from the broken light bulb crunches underfoot, a disquieting sound in the darkness.
The light from the officers’ torches bounces haphazardly off the damp walls, casting eerie, confused shadows on the scene, colours muted and unnatural.
It’s hard to make anything out. You act on instinct, reliant on your senses and an indefinable gut feeling for anything that might be out of place and unnatural.
Something feels, very unnatural. Very out of place. Very wrong indeed.
A sudden gasp at your side, and the sweeping torches pause, all focussed on a single spot.
Then you see the blood.

TOM

It was a dark and stormy night

Sheets a rain broke against the roof. You could hardly make out the edges of homes down the street. Then the light show commenced in earnest, ragged forks of lightening coming from the east. The thunder was freaking the cat out. She bolted into the lamp, sent it hard to the floor. Broken light bulb shards everywhere. I lit a candle and grabbed a broom to sweep. The glass tinkle like tiny bells. This was that last sound I remember hearing before the wind removed the roof. The last thing I saw was glass shards dancing toward the funnel cloud.

LISA

Tuesday
I spent the night in darkness with the cold clasping my hand. I’d pulled my jumper up over my nose, partly for warmth; mostly for its comforting smell.
A small window illuminated my new world. When the sun rose I was grateful for the dark night and was glad I’d not explored – broken glass glittered on the floor from a broken light bulb waiting for my bare feet to find it.
Grim and dirty. Bin bags spilling random belongings piled high.
It was a room with a story no one wanted to hear.
There was nothing to do but wait.

NORVAL JOE

Mandi tiptoed up the stairs to the guest room and flipped on the light switch. With a pop, the light went out. She could ask Billbert’s mother to get a new bulb, but that would draw attention to the fact that Sabrina was not in the room, too.

A streetlight outside the window illuminated the room enough for her to see her way around, and she crossed to a dresser and slipped the magnifying glass into the upper drawer.

She lay down on the bed and tried to figure out how she would explain Sabrina’s sudden absence in the morning.

PLANET Z

Only about 300 feet of water separates Little York Island from the mainland. People like things kept simple. The island is only ten minutes walk around. Everybody bikes or walks the paths. We built a footbridge a while back. Frank Henderson wants to widen it, we voted him down. if you got something big, the main post ferries it over and there’s a grocery at the other end of the bridge. There’s a doctor and dentist and a small general store. At night everyone turns out their lights and we watch the stars and sacrifice goats to the Chaos Gods.

Weekly Challenge #1028 – Sharp Scissors

The next topic is Broken light bulb

LEWIE

The hobo clown, Doc, swiped the oversized, sharp scissors from a white-faced clown, Tippy.

Doc then ran in circles and stepped backwards.

Tippy fell over, landing on his big red nose.

Children laughed at the spectacle.

An auguste clown, Mollywolly, shouted “STOP!” The clowns froze in mid-step.

“No running with scissors!”

The clowns ran in slow motion.

This time, Doc fell down.

He sat up and cried.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Mollywolly asked?

Doc shook his head violently, yes.

“I warned you! You can’t run in slow motion either.”

Clown paramedics came, shrugged, and carried him away in a cot.

LIZZIE

She decorated the scissors with a tussle. Sharp but innocent-looking. Don’t forget the… and she looked out the window. The sun was so beautiful. The birds were chirping. Are you listening? She wasn’t. Don’t forget the pack of sticky note pads of all possible sizes. One hundred of them. And don’t forget to bring them in different… Colors, yes. Annoying… They would have sticky notes all over the place with sticky messages packed with stupidity. The scissors came in handy when it was time to get rid of the sticky problem… It was messy, but it was worth it.

LISA

Interview with Dr Andrea Brookes
I ask about the famous cutting skills that her fellow surgeons once envied. She dismisses praise and mutters about practice, not just in the hospital. We share some memories. There’s a lot of talk of scissors.
She mentions a dressmaking grandma and her pinking shears: zigzag cut so the fabric didn’t need a seam. She tells me how she likes really sharp little scissors and that flesh doesn’t fray.
Andrea stays in her cell for the interview. She doesn’t share it. I was hoping for more answers but visiting time is over before I find out where the bodies are.

SERENDIPIDY

Sharp mind.
Sharp wits.
Sharp tongue.
Sharp words.
The perfect recipe for cutting remarks.
There’s nothing quite like destroying your victims mentally before you commence the real work of finishing them off, and the best method I find is a verbal character assassination.
I like to keep the tools of my trade nice and sharp too: Knives, saw blades, axes, all sorts of bladed articles.
I really shouldn’t have to explain the reason for that -it’s pretty obvious.
Not my scissors though.
I don’t possess any sharp scissors at all, just very blunt ones.
They hurt a whole lot more!

TOM

Tools of the Trade

If you have lived in Chicago the likelihood one of your earliest memories will be about a basement. Mine is my Grandfather Marquette’s, for he had a fully operational barbershop. Chair, mirrors front and back. Leather strap. An assortment of electric clippers from different decades. But the shiny-est object on a glass shelf was a set of German scissors. He kept these razor-sharp scissors in a black velvet case. I once made the mistake of handling the one. To is day there is thin white line which runs across the middle of palm. The sharper the lesson the greater the wisdom.

NORVAL JOE

Mrs. Weinerheimer could have been a pair of sharp scissors when she said, “Enough chitchat. Get up to bed.”

She led the way out of the kitchen. Billbert followed, with Sabrina right behind.

Mandi said, “Sabrina. Wait. Can I talk to you for a second?”

“What do you want, Lindi Mindi?” Sabrina said with her typical snark, turning to face her.

Mandi raised the magnifying glass and looked at Sabrina through it.

Sabrina appeared in the glass, frozen with a condescending sneer on her face.

Mandi quickly shoved the magnifying glass under her shirt to avoid accidentally setting Sabrina free.

PLANET Z

Arthur owns the sharpest scissors in existence.
They can cut through the fabric of spacetime.
Gravitational waves, fluctuating with every snip.
The universe bends and twists, light flickers all around.
Arthur ties off the loose ends, dusts off his hands, and puts the scissors away.
Usually, the universe seals itself up and heals over.
But this time, Arthur’s nicked some dark matter.
A singularity leans out, and devours Arthur’s sewing room, house, and neighborhood.
Over the next few hours, the Earth collapses into a miniscule dot.
The scissors have a warranty for this, but nobody’s left to collect on it.

Weekly Challenge #1027 – PICK TWO Siren, Locked Vending, Machine, Journey’s end, Bullet train

The next topic is Sharp scissors

LIZZIE

Lock the fancy suitcase with that fancy padlock you bought for a fortune.
The siren of the fire brigade just sounded noon.
Hurry down the street towards the station.
Grab some snacks from the vending machine before boarding.
Catch the bullet train to be there in time for New Year’s.
And now… wait and watch the world roll by.
It’s not a game. It’s not a play. The journey’s end is closer.
They’ll all be there. I’ll surprise them with the customary SURPRISE!
Then, it’ll be over. For everyone. Good night and goodbye. The year, I mean, or… do I?

RICHARD

Turning Japanese
Honestly, I didn’t go to Japan for the reason you think.
Trust me, it wasn’t anything to do with the prospect of vending machines stuffed full of schoolgirls’ underwear. No, really that was the last thing on my mind.
I went for the unique culture, the sights and the temples, ramen, and of course, the bullet train. It’s just incredible: super smooth at two hundred miles an hour, and bang on time, every time.
That’s the reason why I went to Japan. Such a unique place, with so much to see and do, and experience.
Not forgetting the vending machines.

SERENDIPIDY

You can try the door, but I’m afraid you’ll find it’s locked.
The windows are tightly barred, the walls are a foot thick and there’s not another soul within miles.
Except me, of course.
And, unlike you, I’m not chained to a chair bolted to the floor.
I’m also the one with the knives and the chainsaw, so the odds are stacked very much in my favour.
I would like your opinion on what I’ve done with the place though. I’d really value your thoughts on the décor.
And the house name… I was thinking, ‘Journey’s End’?
So, any good?

TOM

Nova Zimla

Max moved towards the center of the onyx platform. A lime green light fell across the roll of vermilion bullets brass kiosk. He took out a silver crow and sled it into the vending machine. Max scanned the red tokens for New Tokyo. Q37 for right next to New Moscow. Didn’t wanted to do that again, Max mused. As soon as the bullet dropped into the bottom of the vending machine a bullet train materialized. The door sled open and he continued to the bar. He was going to need a neat High ball to bit the bullet. Phase-Shift initiated.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert tugged harder at the ring, It was like it had become a part of him.

Sabrina said, “It won’t come off. We’re locked together.”

“Forever?” Billbert gasped.

“No. If I take mine off at the same time as you do, they will come off.”

Billbert pointed at her ring. “Take it off.”

She shook her head. “We have a lot to do together. I will take it off at our journey’s end.”

“You make this sound like a fantasy novel, like we have to travel together,” Billbert grumbled.

“Since this afternoon,” Sabrina said mysteriously. “I would think that’s clear.”

PLANET Z

We used to decorate the soda machines for Christmas, covering them with pine branches and lights and ornaments. Or we’d wrap them in gift wrap and tie them up with ribbons and bows. Steal a mannequin from a department store and dress it up like Santa. Lay it across the top of the row of machines like it was passed out, empty bottle of Jack fixed in its white mittened hand. Real vomit on its fake beard, all over the front of the red and white suit. Santa’s helpers helped with that, thanks to the bottle of Jack they emptied.

Weekly Challenge #1026 – Candle

The next topic is PICK TWO
Siren
Locked
Vending Machine
Journey’s end
Bullet train

NORVAL JOE

Mandy looked from the magnifying glass at the table. The figurine was gone. Everyone else was concentrating on the jewelry box and hadn’t noticed. Looking back in the glass, the figurine was still there. Looking back at the table. It had returned.

She next looked at a candle stick which also disappeared from the table until she looked again through the magnifying glass and it returned.

Mandy put it down.

Billbert looked at his hand. “You never told me what this ring does.”

Sabrina swallowed. “It binds two magic users together.”

Billbert tried to remove the ring. It wouldn’t move.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m told that the Roman Candle firework gets its name from the ancient Roman practice of dousing Christians in tar and setting them alight. As for Catherine wheels, they’re a reminder of the martyrdom of Saint Catherine, who was tied to a spiked cart wheel – it failed to kill her, but it was a pretty gory affair.
So, it seems that fireworks and Christianity really don’t mix.
That’s a shame, and it’s about time things were put right.
Which is why I’m happy to torture people and set fire to them, regardless of religious persuasion.
And that includes atheists, too!

RICHARD

Romantic?
I write by candlelight.
No particular reason, I just like the romanticised image of the struggling writer, ensconced in their garret attic room, scribing away by the light of a single, sputtering candle.
That’s also the reason I write with a quill, on vellum.
Sending my stories to recipients can be tricky though: Delivery on horseback is surprisingly expensive, and old-fashioned mail coaches are hard to find.
You know I’m joking, right?
It might sound romantic, but that would be a stupid way to write.
I do it on a computer, and send it by email.
Just like you.

TOM

Job from Hell #47

When I and my oldest friends get together at some point in regaling the past, we share the litany of worst jobs in our sorted youths. Jim told of the joys of loading live chickens into a boxcar. Mary shared the fun times cleaning crystalline beer vats with a chisel. Gail quietly noted the number of times she sat with a dyeing patient. Tim said the hardest work he ever did was stacking cases of antifreeze eight high. But hands down Wayne true had the ninth ring of hell job. He spent a summer in a candle factory. Wayne won.

LIZZIE

It’s Christmas and all that. Jolly, polly, holly, folly and anything rhyming in ‘olly. Also Molly and trolley. Who, you may ask? Nevermind. Look at the candle. It’s Christmas. Festive little Christmas time, where a generous portion of smiles is added to a generous portion of mockery. The fake phone calls with promises of meetings in the new year “oh, we must!”, the fake pledges of friendship for all eternity “best buddies, right!”. Look at the candle. It’s simple. It burns. No promises. No lies. It just is. A candle. Simple. Why can’t people be as simple as a candle?

LISA

What could possibly go wrong?
Celia’s anxiety was through the roof – she was helping out at the church’s carols by candlelight service.
After ‘Carol of the Bells’ she was to help plunge the chapel into atmospheric darkness. Unusually accident prone she’d imagined at the very least somehow burning the place down.
Celia got more and more nervous so stood right at the back; she was shaking too much to use a snuffer. In one breath she blew all her candles out. And moved all the melted wax from the top of them to the back of a gentleman’s jacket.
Celia left and never went back.

PLANET Z

Everybody’s got their lights up, their inflatable Santas and Mickeys.
At night, I walk the street slowly, savoring each display.
Some houses are dark, kinda like the pickled ginger between sushi.
Cleanse the palate, on to the next house.
I’ve been here for three holiday seasons.
I’ve got lights up. Red and white.
I haven’t set up candles for Hanukkah yet.
This place is a bit more evangelical than most.
“What church do you go to?” is a thing people ask.
I did put a mezuzzah up.
On the side door that I use when I go for a walk.