Category: Weekly Challenge

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.

Weekly Challenge #1025 – Correlation

The next topic is Candle

LISA

Homework
Mum and Dad were arguing so Michael went upstairs to learn this week’s spellings. He hated English with its pointless silent letters: it was altogether too tricky.
He googles word after word but gets stuck on ‘Correlation’. He sounds it out slowly before spelling it aloud. He’s struggling to get the meaning so can’t put it in a sentence.
When it gets quieter in the house he goes downstairs only to find his Mum missing and Dad in a pile of blood. Realisation dawns and a sentence comes to him but Dad says to run to the neighbours for help.

LIZZIE

The correlation between death and peace is a difficult one. People say, rest in peace. Peace is a given for the departed. But what about those who stay behind. Ah, they have it easy, they are not dead.
The correlation between friendship and stupidity is a difficult one. How are you doing, they ask, a serious look on their faces. What does one reply? Fine, now that I have peace of mind? Or… oh, terrible, I miss them so much?
The correlation between the truth and a lie is not a difficult one. One small step, a word, and voilá.

RICHARD

Sing Sing
The committee was adamant. The makeup of the choir had to be more inclusive, with a more ethnically representative selection of members.
Of course, as membership secretary, the task of recruiting more diverse choristers fell to me.
I thought I was doing a pretty good job, but I was taken to task again at the next committee meeting for not being inclusive enough.
There was, apparently, a gap in our ranks that I was obliged to find someone to fill; and that someone needed to be from South East Asia.
Which is why I’m now advertising for a choral Asian!

SERENDIPIDY

Is there really a correlation between playing violent video games and kids re-enacting what they see on the screen, in real life?
Depends who you ask, I suppose. Some experts are adamant there’s a tangible connection between thuggery and shoot ’em ups, whilst others will tell you it’s nonsense.
I imagine you’re now thinking this is the point where I tell you that I was a gentle, caring soul before I discovered video nasties; after which I became a serial killer.
Wrong!
I’ve always been a serial killer. That’s where I get my inspiration for creating violent video games.

TOM

How can you be in two places at once when you’re not anywhere at all.
Ok, so we have a prompt of: causation. My long-standing rule for
proceeding is going with the first thing that spills out of head.
Breaking that this week, not doing: causation vs correlation. Way too
easy and I bet a bunch of us will bit at that Newton’s apple. So, I’m
doing quantum mechanics, the penultimate example of correlation.
Correlation shows two variables move together associated. But causation
means one variable directly makes the other change. Wait a second that’s
quantum mechanics whole thing. It’s correlcausa

NORVAL JOE

With the jewelry box on the table Sabrina took the locket from Billbert. She opened it and removed the heart-shaped ruby from the side opposite the picture.

The correlation was obvious. She placed the stone in the jewelry box lid. The box clicked and the lid popped up a fraction. In it, they found several ornate rings. Billbert recognized them from the ceremony months before. He wore one that matched a ring on Sabrina’s hand.

Among the other items was a golden magnifying glass. Mandy picked it up, looked through it at a dancing girl figurine, and the figurine disappeared.

PLANET Z

To you, he was a beloved figure. To me, he was a fucking asshole. Yelling at fawning college kids and recent graduates writing pointless news stories because of shitty mistakes. But the more they paid him the cheaper they went with the kids feeding the prompter. He played freecell instead of checking their work. He wouldn’t go to any speech or community gathering without them handing him a check first or an envelope with cash. in every promo that pretended he or his cohorts gave a shit about the community or actually worked, I would laugh and grit my teeth.

Weekly Challenge #1024 – Cool

The next topic is Correlation

LISA

Boxing Day
The house was clinically clean; guests were due at midday. Mum had baked 36 mince pies – we’d all secretly had ‘just one’ as they cooled.
Just before 12 Mum bellowed.
‘Who’s had a mince pie?’ We all gathered at the kitchen door to admit our misdemeanour to discover there were NO MINCE PIES LEFT.
The dog ran downstairs leaving a brown trail behind him then leapt onto the sofa and proceeded to sick constantly. The guests arrived promptly and immediately offered to take the dog to the emergency vets. We argued over who else could go – the house felt unpleasant.

RICHARD

Laundry
The label said, cool wash. Iron on a cool heat.
What exactly does that mean?
My washing machine has a dial surrounded by indecipherable symbols – nowhere does it say ‘cool’, or anything else for that matter.
As for my iron, the only settings it has are marked one, two and three.
I suppose I can make the assumption that ‘one’ is cool, but how can I be sure.
‘In the end, I threw the shirt in the machine with everything else on the same setting I’ve used since day one.
And forget ironing. The crumpled look suits me just fine.

LIZZIE

It’s a plane, the kid exclaimed, rushing to the carousel plane. His mother shook her head. I’ll be a pilot when I grow up! The mother shook her head. Yesterday, you wanted to be a doctor. The kid stretched his arms, mimicking the wings of a plane swooshing through the sky. Isn’t this plane cool? The mother shook her head. He’d be a carpenter, tops. When the kid from back then, already an adult, showed the mother his pilot’s license, she shook her head. Crazy, dangerous job. The adult walked away, the kid cried, the mother never saw either again.

SERENDIPIDY

I wear sunglasses at night, like in the song.
Cool, huh?
You’d better believe it. It’s a look few can pull off convincingly. You need a quiet assurance; the confidence to be secure in the knowledge you have what it takes, and nobody and nothing can undermine your self-worth.
That’s what I tell people, anyway.
The truth is somewhat different.
I don’t just wear sunglasses at night, I wear them during the day too.
I never take them off.
You know what they say: The eyes are the window to the soul.
And some things should not be revealed.

TOM

1024

I wanted to Paul Newman when I grew up

The generation before me defined the term for being above it all. To aspire to a personality that wheeled a frosty wit. Dry and Chilled. The goal was to be Cool. The easy task for a child of the 50s. The central pillar of Cool was certainty in self. In short having an abundance of confidence. Not an evenly distrusted resource for average teenager. So I have spent decades being uncool. What I learn in that time is: Find something your passionate above. Find folk share your passion. For cool is fleeting. In heartbeat it’s so yesterday. Aura Riss 6-7.

NORVAL JOE

It had been a long day, and it was late. Still, instead of going directly to the guest room, Sabrina took the locket and went to the kitchen where they had kept the box of arcane items taken from the cabin in the meadow.

Sabrina handed the locket to Bilbert. “Hold this.”

Though it had been clutched in Sabrina’s hand the entire trip home, it was cool to the touch.

Sabrina emptied the box one item at a time, placing them on the table until she came to a silver jewelry box with a heart shaped depression in the lid.

PLANET Z

You can bet on anything these days.
Balls. Strikes. Touchdowns. Fumbles.
Even the coin toss.
The one thing I want to bet on is the next person to go to jail for a conspiracy related to sports gambling.
You know, some dude is at the free throw line, chucking bricks, and the cops come to serve a warrant and arrest him.
Because it’s not the integrity of the game they’re worried about.
Nothing to do with honor and competition and all of that.
It’s the future of the business.
Games can only be rigged by the owners, not the players.

Weekly Challenge #1023 – PICK TWO Someone else, Roast, When will it stop?, Support Network, Moonwalk

The next topic is Cool

RICHARD

Moves like stagger
On Mondays, I run a support network for people who think they can moonwalk, but they can’t.
You’d be surprised how many think they’re channelling Michael Jackson, when in reality their dancing sucks; and that’s being generous.
I hang out at wedding venues and school reunions, armed with business cards and flyers. On a good night, I can get a dozen referrals from traumatised wives and embarrassed family members, all desperate to wean their husbands, brothers and cousins off the mistaken belief they can dance like MJ.
Wednesdays: it’s Dirty Dancing… and, for the weekend – Saturday Night Fever, naturally.

SERENDIPIDY

“When will it stop?”
“When you’re done” I reply, adding more fuel to the fire, watching the flames burn ever higher.
Eventually, your screams turn to whimpers, and then, after a while the only sound is the crackle of burning wood, and the sizzle of your flesh.
That’s the tricky part, where the real skill comes in. Like sausages on a barbecue, you don’t want the outside burned and blackened, whilst the inside is still pink and raw.
Neither do I want you burned to a crisp.
Trust me, it takes an expert to obtain the perfect roast.

LISA

Professor Gilbert’s Secret
This is the dying testimony of Laurence Gilbert. I know I have been unparalleled in my field for decades. And can only now, on my deathbed reveal the reason.
I moonwalk into every lecture – it drags even the most unresponsive student’s eyes up from their screens. Then, I immediately hypnotise the students. They become someone else in my lectures. Some I retain and they do my bidding: mostly reading.
All students I make study. With their minds open I pour information in and give them the tools to regurgitate it.
I can’t say I’m sorry for anything I have done.

TOM

Same as it ever was.

“It was as dark and stormy night “said the joke to the thief. “When will it stop?” said the dwarf to the elf. “If the sun does rise in the morning, we must find Someone Else.” Of course, Someone Else was the mightiest Warlock in Limbo, not to be disturbed lightly. Which is the only way a pixie can disturb Any One, them being the Council of Elders. Consulting the Elder Scroll the 8th level Bard broke into song. In total discuss the Dragon Spawn fried the cursed lute with a breath of fire. Then a DOA swamped the network.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliamanda looked over Sabrina’s shoulder. “Is that your grandmother in the locket?”

“No,” Sabrina replied. “It’s someone else.”

Patrick cut in, “Where’s that tornado taking Mr. Vanpoot? When will it stop? Will he survive?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Maybe the police station. Maybe the hospital.”

Mrs. Weinerheimer said, “We should get home and sort this out. Is there anything else that you brought with you Patrick?”

“There’s some stuff in the van, but not much,” he said.

After they found more of Sabrina’s things in the van they drove to Bobbie’s house.

“Stay here tonight, Patrick,” Bobbie said. “Dad’s going to jail.”

PLANET Z

Back in the 80s, the moonwalk was all the rage. Johnny would moonwalk at the front of the class every time he aced a quiz or test. Or if he got the last of the pepperoni pizza at lunch, big moonwalk. He was also supposed to be the star quarterback for the school, but in his first game first play, he threw an absolute bomb of a pass that his receiver caught in the end zone for a touchdown, and Johnny moonwalked and his cleat caught in the grass and he tore up his knee and he never played again.

Weekly Challenge #1022 – Pencil case

The next topic is PICK TWO
Someone else
Roast
When will it stop?
Support Network
Moonwalk

LISA

School Days
Our school uniform included coat and bag; so, to express our individuality we changed our pencil cases yearly. In a small town invariably half the class had the same pencil case. Handmade didn’t have the cachet it has now. It was a guarantee of being bullied for the rest of your school days.
I spent summer up north with an old aunt where things were the same as home but they had different stationery shops… I was seen as a cosmopolitan fashion guru. I was picked first for teams. Never ate lunch alone. And all because of my pencil case.

RICHARD

Just in case
Some people carry a rabbit’s foot, others have their plushie mascots, but I had a lucky pencil case.
Far more practical than the totems other students would sit on their desks to bring them luck at exams, my case completely fulfilled all its usual functions. A receptacle for writing materials, erasers, pencil sharpeners and many useful odds and ends as well as chewing gum, and cleaning wipes for my glasses.
You see, I had to wear special glasses…
Special glasses that shifted the colours of the intricate graffiti designs on my pencil case, to reveal my carefully hidden cheat notes.

TOM

Pencil Case

My first wife had rather large breasts. She showed me a trick that seems to me outside my general knowledge base. It a test of gravitational forces and a pencil case. If you are of an age when school supplies were actually a cool thing to have each year there are to major groups of pencil storage. The rectangle molded plastic case with a sliding 12-inch rule, which had a pencil sharpener fused on top. The other a pouch with a zipper, uncool. If you wedge pencil case #2 under a breast and it didn’t hit the ground you won.

LIZZIE

She looked at the pencil case. What’s in there, a nosy colleague asked. Nothing. She grabbed the pencil case. Pencils, obviously, someone said. She nodded, that too. Let them think that. Why are you carrying around a pencil case, that’s for kids. Yes, for kids, she nodded. I’ll give you 100 bucks if you let me look inside. She shook her head. Not in a million years would she allow that to happen and money meant nothing to her. Besides, how would she explain the ears and teeth she had collected from the guys she had buried in the marsh?

SERENDIPIDY

I kept a flick knife in my pencil case.
Knuckle-dusters in my lunch box.
Throwing stars in my school bag.
In case of emergencies, I would slip razor blades inside the covers of my text books and a can of pepper spray in my pocket.
You could never take too many precautions in my school.
It was a tough environment where only the strong survived.
Even the teachers knew to watch their backs.
You had to fight to survive, every day, every lesson.
Bullying was totally out of control, and as for the bullies themselves…
I was the best!

NORVAL JOE

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut. “I will always hate the things you did to me. But someday, we will be all each other has.”

Billbert looked down to give the siblings some privacy and kicked through the trash thrown around by the tornado. His mother and Mandi tugged at Sabrina’s bonds.

Among the varied trash Billbert found a pencil case and picked it up. It rattled when he shook it.

Inside he found a heart shaped locket. Inside it was a black and white picture of a little girl and a large oval emerald.

“That was my grandmother’s,” Sabrina gasped.

PLANET Z

Paul’s family never put a tree in their house to decorate for Christmas. Instead, they’d put a tree in their big backyard every year and they’ve been there a long time for generations and seeing the big trees and the little ones together and Paul saying that one was for my uncle and that one was my grandmother‘s and that was my dad‘s when he was a boy and I look on Google Maps and see the small woods on the screen. And then the map refreshes and it’s all gone they sold to developers to build a housing subdivision.

Weekly Challenge #1021 – Poetry

The next topic is Pencil case

LISA

The Dog Walk

Afternoon. The light fails fast. The poetry of the season doesn’t escape me as a golden glow hugs the park: it’s a feast for the senses. Russet leaves rustle underfoot. Mustard and claret cling on in trees above.
I forage with an urgency through damp, decaying debris in a thousand shades of brown. I find a perfect red mushroom straight from a fairytale but on I search to avoid a fine.
My foot, with full body weight wins the treasure hunt. It oozes either side of my deep treaded boot and smells like I should’ve found it a lot quicker.

LIZZIE

She wrote poetry.
He said it was garbage.
She tried again and again.
He laughed.
She cried.
He mocked her.
She wanted to stay, but couldn’t. She wanted to leave, but couldn’t.
He torched her poetry.
She wrote some more.
His rage became impossible. He destroyed her clothes and her books.
She grabbed her purse, her poetry notebook and her umbrella. She didn’t know why she took the umbrella with her. She just did. It was hers and it reminded her that when you look at an umbrella from underneath, you can see the sky and feel that you’re flying.

RICHARD

Poetic
I’ve never been one for poetry. Give me prose any day. I don’t need flowery language or complicated structure, just give me facts in plain, straightforward terms.
It’s not that I don’t like poetry. I appreciate it, and there are times it’s perfect for my mood or the occasion, but I don’t go out of my way to find it.
The same goes for writing.
I suck at poems.
I never have the time,
And they never really rhyme.
Well, how about that?
I’m writing on the train right now, so I guess you could say that’s poetry, in motion.

SERENDIPIDY

‘Roses are red, Violets are blue
With a shot to the head
I’m going to kill you’
I told you I wasn’t the artistic one in the family.
If I’d asked my sister to pen a poetic prelude to your last moments, she’d have done a much better job of it.
It would have been full of drama, pathos and emotion; you’d have wept at how she’d captured the moment in all its horrific beauty.
But, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, and my less than brilliant grasp of rhyme and meter.
So…
‘Roses are red:
And now, you’re dead!’

NORVAL JOE

Billbert watched the old man spin up into the sky and disappear. He shook his head. “Poetry in motion.”

Bobbi squeezed Patrick’s arm. “What is wrong with your head? You were going to kill those women.”

Patrick shrugged away. “What does it matter to you?”

Tears formed in the tall girl’s eyes. “It matters because you’re my brother and I love you. And I don’t want you to go to jail.”

Patrick looked like he had been hit on the head by a brick. “You love me?” he asked. “Even after everything I did to you, you still love me?”

TOM

reads us stories out of I Ching
She was poetry in motion you can let go. An angel from the angel band. A shadow in a wasted land. A Specter rising up in the sand. Sweet Lorain. You know you should run, cuz your feet know better. The mark on the ground is big red letter. Sweet Lorain. The spell that she cast will be your end. To bottomless pits she will send. Sweet Lorain. Now you know it’s a shame and a pity you were raised up in the city and you never learned nothing ’bout country ways. You’re the not first you’re not last. Sweet Lorain

TURA

Poetry
———
In 1892, young Matilda Dunnett travelled by steamship from New York to Liverpool. During the voyage, she and a young man called James Hurt struck up an acquaintance, and discreetly became lovers.

At some point James wrote her a declaration of love on a ship’s biscuit, its durability promising his faithfulness. It is not known what became of the affair, but Matilda’s grand-daughter found it among her belongings after she died.

The biscuit is preserved at the National Maritime Museum in London. The caption reads:

“This ship’s biscuit

(inscribed with a love note)

shows signs of damage by larvae.”

Poetry!
———

Z

Jerry was posted to a far colony. Faster than light travel, made travel fast, but the infrequency of ships along the routes made communication less than instantaneous. A Data block would collect important information, and it would be delivered along the route. Sometimes a ship would be lost and news of the loss would take a while to arrive before another data block could be sent. Jerry sent poetry back to his fiancé, trying to entice her to get aboard the next ship. Eventually, she agreed. It wasn’t until the next circuit that Jerry learned her ship had vanished.