Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #927 – PICK TWO Bookcase, Verdict, Sprint, Crisp, Vulgar, Pregnant

The next topic is Position

That Erica Writes site I was talking about with Friday prompts (and she does a 50-worder where you write the last 50 words).

LISA

Escape

Someone whispered ‘Good Luck’ as we set off tiptoeing up the stairs, slow shaky steps away from our prison. We found ourselves in a narrow dimly lit corridor. The air smelled fresher up there: we had been locked up a while. The walls were lined with bookcases, like helpless moths we made for the light at the end of the passageway.

My nose twitched at the faint smell of a coal fire ahead. As we approached the floorboards, that had been as quiet as the grave, gave a bloodcurdling screech and we sprinted back to the safety of the basement.

RICHARD

Ikea? – I can’t!

“So, what do you think?”

I could tell from the pregnant pause, and the slightly embarrassed look on my wife’s face that my flat pack building skills could possibly need a little more work.

“Well… It’s a bookcase, of sorts”, she mumbled.

That was a bit of a blow.

“A bookcase? It’s supposed to be a bedside cabinet!”

“Ah”, she continued, “so what exactly is that other pile of wood and screws, then?”

“Spares!” I replied confidently.

She took my hand, and smiled solicitously, “Tell you what, love, why don’t we just buy a ready-made one from the store?”

ZACKMANN

After a Christmas dinner I opened my gift from my son to find I had received a DVD copy of “The Hogfather” which I had been hinting I wanted for a year and a half. I thought it would be cool that my future rewatches would be advertisement free. It could rest on top of the Pratchett paperbacks when not in the video player.

Not to be outdone, my son’s wife handed my wife, She Who Must Be Obeyed, her gift. My wife opened a framed picture of an ultrasound. I now expect my superhero name will be Grandpa Zackmann

TOM

October 25 1415

Our house is filled with bookcases. Floor to ceiling. Mostly pine with a few oak. It’s An eclectic collection from graphic novels to exploration of the Higgs boson. The complete works of Tolkien and the collected works of Shakespeare. While I have a soft spot in my heart for the Tempest the speech in Henry the V is wire in the blood. On field of Agincourt young Harry spoke:

Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers

Bonanza

When I was growing up the number one program of TV was Bonanza. My Dad loved the show because during the war he met one of the actors. That was Dan Blocker. It’s pretty weird number of people my dad met during the war. Seems he got his front teeth knocked-out was actual written up for damaging government property. While in hospital he met a young Blocker recovering from wounds he sustained holding Pork Chop Hill. My dad remembered him as a gentle man in a huge body. He said he had size 14 boondocks. Dad always called boots boondocks.

NORVAL JOE

Mandi burst into tears. “We have to help those people.” She sprinted toward the meadow.
Billbert shot forward and caught her. “Wait. You don’t want to get shot too.”
The crisp chatter of semi-automatic gunfire continued from beyond the trees.
He pulled out his phone. “Darn. No connection.”
Billbert looked up at the sky. “Maybe I can get some bars above the trees. Stay here, please.”
Mandi wiped her nose with the back of her hand and nodded.
Phone in hand, Billbert shot above the trees.
The driver stood atop his septic tank service van, following Billbert with his AR-15.

TURA

Bookcase; Vulgar
———

My Library exists more outside this world than in it. Those who enter in search of a long-lost tome may find it, if their heart is pure, but otherwise only a spurious imitation. Those drawn by vulgar curiosity will find only vulgar curiosities. Those who seek enlightenment may find it, or something they take for enlightenment but which drives them mad. And those who seek to know how the Library came to be are never seen again, following reference after reference, ever deeper amongst the endless corridors of bookcases.

Therefore take care what you seek, lest you find it.

PLANET Z

Guilty. On all counts.
Of what?
Edgar sat in his cell, unable to remember anything.
Okay, he knew his name. But nothing else.
A man came to talk to him. His attorney, he said.
He was filing an appeal.
For what, asked Edgar.
His attorney stared at him.
Are you serious?
Edgar was moved to a hospital and doctors examined him.
Complete memory loss.
Not guilty due to mental incapacity.
He was a free man.
Free to do what, asked Edgar.
His attorney showed him pictures, told him all kinds of things.
But Edgar just sat there and breathed slowly.

CHATGPT

Amelia’s bookcase overflowed with tales, a kaleidoscope of worlds waiting to be explored. One day, she discovered a crisp, forgotten letter tucked among the pages. It held a joyous verdict – she was pregnant! Overwhelmed with happiness, she sprinted to share the news with her husband. Their laughter echoed through the house as they embraced the impending adventure. Amidst the excitement, they cherished the vulgar beauty of life, finding love in every moment. The bookcase, witness to their journey, stood sturdy and proud, a silent testament to the chapters unfolding within their own storybook life.

Weekly Challenge #926: Crack

The next topic is PICK TWO Bookcase, Verdict, Sprint, Crisp, Vulgar, Pregnant

RICHARD

Thin Ice

They told me I was skating on thin ice: that, one day, it would crack and I’d sink into the depths as a result of my foolishness.

I never listened to them. I was young and free-spirited; nobody was going to tell me how to live my life, and nobody had the right to tell me what to do.

I knew better than them.

Turns out, I didn’t. They were right, and I was wrong.

After the accident, they fenced off the pond, and put up notices saying ‘Danger: Thin ice’.

Nobody skates there now.

My cold, watery grave.

TOM

Too Smart by half

Billy was a precocious little prick. Most believed he was most likely to come to a bad end. He was the sort who told younger children Santa and the Easter bunny were made up by adult to con them into being good. Further he flaunted any nursey rhymes. he would proudly land his foot on every crack in the sidewalk. One day the universe was feed-up with the little M-F. When he stepped on Crack but it didn’t back his mother’s The sidewalk when medieval on his ass, broke him in half. Universe noted: that’s mother fucker’s back, putz.

843

Somewhere

I was born in the city but my parents thought moving to suburbs would be a wholesome environment for young children. Bad idea. The Suburbs sucked. At the tender age of six I was dropped in a place with no sidewalks. Rustic it was, countryfied. Problem you ask? Fear of God had been driven into me never leave the sidewalk into a street. cognitive dissonance, Hal 9000 landscape. Later in life it became the define element to my dwelling choices. Anywhere with sidewalk was fine by me. Yup lived in some pretty rough neighborhoods. Funny the stuff that defines us.

SERENDIPIDY

I wonder what will make you crack?

Will it be the electrodes to the genitals, pulling out your nails with pliers, or maybe the water torture will do the trick?

Or, perhaps you think those methods lack subtlety?

Maybe I should kidnap your family instead and send you their fingers through the post?

Or are you made of sterner stuff, well-schooled in the art of keeping silent, even under great adversity?

To be honest, it really doesn’t matter much to me… I already have the information I need.

I just want to torture you, for the fun of it!

NORVAL JOE

Something whistled past Billbert’s ear, followed a split-second later by the crack of a high-powered rifle.
Wide eyed, Buhmilda clutched her stomach and dropped to her knees. Another crack and Sabrina spun around, blood spurting from a wound in her thigh.
Mr. Trump (Buhmilda’s dog) ran and hid. The other guild members around the meadow fled.
Rapid fire followed Billbert as he grabbed Linoliumanda and shot straight up into the sun.
He angled back down to the forest and set her among the ferns.
“Are you okay, Mandi?” Billbert asked.
She nodded her head as shots continued in the meadow.

LIZZIE

It was an ancient building. The crack on the wall grew bigger. But he wasn’t going to let it crumble down on his watch. So, he filled the crack with cement. When the wall collapsed, he was in Aruba, sunbathing. Everyone was horrified. Cement? Apparently, bad cement, who would’ve thought. The horror! Who had done that? However, they did find a secret room with a long-lost treasure. So, he went back and bragged. Not a good idea. “But, what about the treasure? And a crumbling wall adds character!” He shouted while being dragged off to jail. To brag or not to brag.

PLANET Z

Every time I flex the finger in my left hand, I can feel a joint in the middle finger pop.
It’s not just an intermittent thing.
It happens every time I do it.
I open and close my hand a few times, pop pop pop.
It’s not a knuckle crack. It’s not loud.
It’s just something I feel.
I don’t know how long it’s been doing this, or what it means.
I never remember to tell the doctor about it.
I’m too busy with my weight, my diet, and everything else.
I just open and close my hand, and feel.

Weekly Challenge #925 – Pester

The next topic is Crack

TOM

Drive to distraction

My wife is a Family Nurse Practitioner. Damn good one imho. Early in all FNP careers’ is the lure of the prescription pad. The power to be a min drug cartel. The perks. In the old days lavish amounts of food delivered by perky drug rep-s. Enough Chinese takeout to chock a bull moose. And the industry itself in the veiled cover of a “lecture presentation” where samples are shelled out like gum balls. At some point the lure fades. This is driven by how most patients will pester them to death to get the goodies. Yes the lure fades.

The Big Board

There are few Scoreboards in the country that bring deeper reverence then the scoreboard in Wrigley Field. Watch the crowd after ever major play. All eyes inward and in a beat all eyes at the scoreboard. In Chicago it isn’t real until it’s on the scoreboard. The coolest part of the board is knowing ever change in a game near or far is shown on 35 pounds plates turned by hand. In the age of electronic, keeping score by hand gives considerable charm to the Wrigley experience. My dad was born in the shadow of that nearly century old scoreboard.

NORVAL JOE

They all followed Linoliumanda across the meadow. Sabrina alone, sneered. “That is so stupid. How can you be pestered by people using your given name?”
Linolimanda’s cheeks reddened. “It’s not stupid. Everyone should have the right to be called what they want.”
Just then, high pitched barking stole their attention. They all turned to see a little brown and beige dog that looked as much like an ewok, running toward them.
It was then that Billbert saw the Black Knights climbing from the sink hole.
Buhmilda clapped her hands and shouted, “Good dog, Mr. Trump! Everyone. Get the Black Knights.”

LIZZIE

Those YOU posters… YOU must apply. YOU must, YOU.
Wear something proper. Speak correctly. You don’t want to sound like a moron, do you?
No. But he didn’t want to be pestered all day long about a job he didn’t want either.
Look at that, the future of our nation, that poster says it all, aren’t you proud?
He was annoyed. Proud? No. So, he spent the whole night slashing them. The scandal! That’s how the I’m-Not-An-Asset movement started.
100 years later, employees were still an asset, in the worst possible way… He went from annoyed to angry, murderously angry.

SERENDIPIDY

I have one of those cards in my window, politely asking religious callers, salespeople, canvassers and politicians not to pester me.

It makes no difference of course. Either people can’t read, or choose to ignore my wishes.

That’s just rude.

So, I have no qualms about backing up my request with machine guns, machetes, and the pit of spikes beneath the welcome mat, should anyone choose to press their luck.

What’s more, nobody can say they weren’t warned.

It’s all covered in full: there, at the bottom, in the fine print.

Although, you probably didn’t bother to read that either?

LISA

A big ask

We realised shortly after asking for the pillows that he wasn’t the big bad wolf after all. We could just ask him for things. For many of us, used to pestering parents for bits, this was better than at home. Here we were seemingly getting every desire granted.

It was the natural next step really and this time I was nominated spokesperson, it was a wish we all shared. I thought long and hard about choosing my moment but then just blurted it out when he came down the next morning:

“Can we come out of the basement please? “

RICHARD

Leave me alone!

Internet ads don’t bother me, neither does spam email, mainly because I rarely see either. All taken care of, thanks to decent ad blocking software and spam filters.

Internet bliss!

The same can’t be said for my computer desktop. It seems that every app and programme feels the need to bombard me with nag screens on start-up, shutdown and random intervals during use.

If I want to upgrade, subscribe or trial new software, then I’ll do so – I don’t need you to pester me constantly.

In fact, the more you hassle me, the less inclined I am to do it!

PLANET Z

If I sit on the sofa for more than a minute, my cat runs to the sofa and jumps on me.
Claws out. Not good.
She will cling to my shoulder or circle a bit before laying in my lap.
It makes it hard to type or reach the remote or a beverage.
So I say GET DOWN and shove her aside.
She scampers off for a bit, then comes back.
This repeats until I put down treats or whipped cream on a plate.
She’ll eat, then find somewhere to nap.
Usually on my lap, repeating the cycle once again.

CHATGPT

In the desolate town, whispers of a cursed word, “pester,” echoed through the chilling winds. Locals spoke of a haunted book, its pages filled with unsettling tales. Curiosity consumed Tom as he uncovered the ominous volume in an ancient library. Ignoring warnings, he read aloud the forbidden passages, unknowingly inviting a malevolent force. From that moment, eerie shadows lurked, and unseen hands brushed his skin. The word “pester” etched itself on his nightmares. As Tom spiraled into madness, incessant whispers surrounded him. The town, now void of life, echoed with a sinister laughter—a haunting reminder of the relentless entity that pestered his very soul.

Weekly Challenge #924 – Pillows

The next topic is Pester

LIZZIE

These pillows are good quality, she thought. The price was acceptable. So, she bought them. She placed them in her garden, dreaming of perfect soireés with her super elegant friends dressed in their pricey clothes, smiling fake smiles, dragging along bored little husbands with perfect bank accounts that they spent in perfectly useless facial creams. Argh! She hated them. The pillows. Good quality. Well… Would they endure something rougher, she wondered, something a bit more… But then she remembered her mother’s words “a clean conscience makes a soft pillow”. Perhaps she shouldn’t have wiped those perfect smiles off their faces.

RICHARD

My bed!

Pillows, magazines, computer keyboards and laptops. These are all perfectly acceptable surfaces to sleep on… If you’re a cat.

The general rule is to select a space that will be the most inconvenient and inappropriate for one’s owner, and occupy it in a manner that is so cute and adorable that only the most heartless of people would consider summary eviction.

Which clearly makes me a very bad person, if the resentful feline stare currently fixed on me is anything to go by.

I won’t be long, I promise.

And once I’ve typed this story, the keyboard is all yours.

SERENDIPIDY

I’ve never believed you can smother someone to death with a pillow.

Let’s face it, if pillows were that dangerous, they’d be covered in health warnings, and every time you went to bed you’d be in imminent danger of inadvertently committing accidental suicide!

They also don’t work for muffling gunshots to the head. I’ve tried it, and it makes no difference at all.

However, those polythene bags that new pillows come in are a different story altogether.

Capacious, easy to carry and dispose of, and totally airtight -fatal every time.

You end up with a lot of spare pillows though!

TOM

While sleeping not good to stop breathing.

I remember going into the Cpap Store. There was this deck top poster of a guy, 50ish, gray temples; faced forward wearing a knowing hint of a smile, and a full Monty mask. Think it was a ResMed AirFit F20. Lots of rigid plastic giving off a Bane/Hannibal vibe, that in fact lacked the high wattage personality of either. No one in the history of Cpaps didn’t look stupid to down right silly. To uses the damn thing, you have to value over this hurtle and embrace your going to look stupid. So, in that sprite I ware Air Pillows.

841 – 972

Angel of Death

Major Cristen Larson was mentally extremely flexible in abstract think. The product of A FEW Thousands of years of diligent breeding. Her Count Zero plan terrified the war college. The general consensus of the high council was this experiment had gone too far. They promptly locked the Major in a Virtual reality matrix. From within Larson hacked the central computer and collectively fried the entire council. Her matrix then knifed through the Emperor’s ice field to stand before the throne of Shadus the Five. “Very resourceful,” quipped the Emperor. This was how Major Cristen Larson became LT. Colonel Cristen Larson.

LISA

Outside

It’s a kitchen that he’s led Pippa into. Ceiling high sash windows reveal deep snow outside and she blinks against the brightness. He asks her what they need and ‘Freedom’ comes out as ‘Pillows’.

She doesn’t want to be their spokesperson. She stares past him; out of the window at the snow. Escape would be futile. It’s drifted, deep and seems to stretch forever. Something unspoken hangs between them and she fills the silence by repeating the word Pillows, then adds a ‘Please’.

She wants to get back to the basement, back to the others and away from his stares.

NORVAL JOE

Scowling, Sabrina crossed her arms like Linoliumanda’s presence was a personal affront.
They gathered around the sinkhole and stared at the jeep, sitting in the mud at the bottom. The oozy slime wasn’t as cushy as pillows but must have softened the jeep’s landing, as the Black Knights didn’t appear to be injured.
Linoliumanda continued to walk away.
“Linoliumanda,” Billbert called.
“Linoliumanda,” Buhmilda repeated.
“Linoliumanda?” Sabrina asked.
Linoliumanda turned and shouted, “Stop calling me that.”
Billbert scratched his head. “Why? That’s your name.”
She stomped her foot. “I know. But it’s too long. I wish people would call me Mandi.”

PLANET Z

Dave is a discerning fellow.
Dave shops for pillows by asking the salesperson to lay on the bed.
Then he holds the pillow over their face and holds it down until they suffocate.
Oh, Dave isn’t a serial murderer… he is a buyer for a major hotel chain.
People expect a comfortable pillow, but they also expect a functional pillow.
If the salesperson doesn’t suffocate, he doesn’t buy the pillow. And runs from the store.
And if they do, he orders thousands of the pillow for all the hotels in the chain.
From another salesperson, obviously. One that isn’t dead.

CHATGPT

In the quaint town of Fluffington, a rebellion was stirring among the pillows. Tired of being squished, fluffed, and flung around, they decided to stage a protest. The Pillow Union demanded better treatment and softer cases.

The leader, Sir Squishington, organized a pillow parade down Main Street. Feathers flew as they chanted, “We won’t be sat on, we won’t be tossed, we demand respect for the fluff we’ve lost!”

The mayor, a weary old cushion named Cushy McSoftface, tried to negotiate. In the end, a compromise was reached: a mandatory daily fluffing session and a ban on pillow fights. Fluffington finally rested peacefully, one pillow at a time.

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.