Weekly Challenge #148 – Gladiolas

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Forty-Eight where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Gladiolas.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #148?
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Daniel from http://dannymachal.com>
Serge
Almo
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
Ashley
Michael S.
Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Jeff Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
Norval Joe from http://www.novalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
Mike P. from http://mjpaxton.com
Planet Z
  
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Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


Tom

Mrs. Patterson escorted Mary Todd once more through the garden they had planted at Bellevue Place. “Do write me when the Gladiolas are in bloom.” said Mrs. Lincoln. “Assuredly, Mrs. Lincoln and the plans for the plant food are still your wishes?” Mrs. Lincoln spit on the ground and whispered Robert’s name. As her carriage roll out the gate on that Autumn day she mused how uneventful that Sept 11th morning felt. Years late when Robert’s coffin lid was closed, he was not within but being carted away to Bellevue in a wheel barrel. Robert would make the Gladiolas bloom.

Daniel

Hosokawa got eye level with his foe and moved closer to take in the evil essence.
His weapon poised to run through the foul being, he closed his eyes.
Hosokawa breathed in deep. “Ahh, I can smell your fear, my enemy.”
“You shiver and quake at your impending doom.”
“Be at peace, for I will give you the honor a mortal adversary deserves.”
The swift blow of a trained Samurai master was designed for one thing, ending life.
He hoisted the weed out of his flower bed and into his pail.
Even Samurai gardeners keep their skills battle ready.

Serge

She would always get buckets of exotic flowers but he gave her just one.
“Gladiola’s?” She snorted surprised, but unimpressed. “Old ladies’ flowers.”
He had dissapeared from her life but she had kept the flower. It was a
present she had learnt to appreciate with age. Now old, but still alone, she
sat in her kitchen and looked at the only true companion in her life – the
flower. Its palette of colours as fresh as ever, unchanged. Now… it truly
was an old lady’s flower.

Almo

The father looked down at his wife in the hospital bed as she cradled the
newborn daughter. “Don’t do it,” he admonished. “She will always hate you
for it.” But his wife was determined and the baby was named “Gladiolas
Messmer.”
Twenty years passed.
At Harvard’s graduation, their daughter accepted her degrees in physics and
mathematics.Gladiolas came offstage and hugged her handsome boyfriend.
She looked at her parents and said, “I have always hated you because of my
name.”
The father turned to his wife and said, “See?”
“Nick and I are getting married,” the girl said.” I am going to be Gladiolas
Heimendinger.”

Anima

Welcome to Hexalia’s Exotics!
I need a special arrangement…
Yes? What mood do you want? Is it business? Here is a lovely formal design.
Lost love reunited perhaps? Pink roses are perfect…
Friends tell me you deal in emotional blooms…
Certainly! Currently I have spears of Gladiolas, Madilolas, and Egadiolas.
Anything more dark or sinister? It’s for the rehearsal dinner of my ex and her new trophy partner…
Might I suggest a centerpiece of Callow Lilies, Shunflowers and Penury Blossums…
with sprigs of Purple Violence at each place setting… bouquets to end any relationship in 90 days or less, guaranteed.

Guy David

A sword lily at my door step. Note says “all shell be avenged”. Going about my business. An accountant by trade, taking care of costumer finance, lost in a world of numbers. Always lost in numbers. Staying up late. Sound of the door opening. Looking up. Young Ophelia at the door, in one hand a sword lily, at the other a sword. A quick step, sword piercing my heart. “Two makes a glow. Three breaks the balance” she says. I remember her body crushing into the river. Close my eyes. “I shell be back” I mutter under my last breath.

Ashley

“Hey Hank, guess what Eric just got his old lady for Valentines Day,
“said Randy.
“What, “ answered Hank?
“He said glad Iolaus!”
“What the hell, “choked Hank swallowing chewing tobacco juice?
“You know, Iolaus, from Hercules, the TV show with the big-boobed
chicks. I asked what a TV show character being happy has to do with
Valentines Day.”
“Well, what’d he say,” asked Hank?
“He just shook his head and walked off, that dumb redneck. Man, if I
ever get that ignorant, put a bullet in me, will ya,” asked Randy?
“No problem,” said Hank spitting on the ground.

Michael S.

OK. I gave into my wife always wanting me to learn to dance.
I now know how to waltz, bunnyhop, cha-cha and jitterbug. I’ve even learned
the hardest one of them all. The ola.
That dance has the steps of all the others all rolled into one.
It makes my wife so very happy. I heard her tell her mother the other day,
“I’m so glad he olas.”

Eva Moon

Alma stared at the floral arrangement he’d sent, awed by his mastery
of the symbolic language of flowers. The messages were clear:
gardenias for secret love, gladiolas for love at first sight, ivy for
fidelity, yellow roses for perfect love and peonies for wedded bliss.
It was a proposal in petals! Her eyes misted and her hand trembled as
she dialed the phone to tell him yes, yes, yes.
Earlier, at the florist:
“Nice choice. Special occasion?”
“Nah. There’s a big golf tournament the weekend of her sister’s
wedding. I need to soften her up before I drop the bomb.”

Justin

The cute little lamb chewed on the blood gladiola that had been planted by
an occult member of the ‘Save The Fluffy Animals Foundation.’ As it
swallowed the crimson petals, its eyes glazed to a solid black and single
strands of wool turned scarlet. The lamb raised its head to the sky and let
forth a dread bleat that rent a fluffy white cloud asunder. It entered the
farmhouse.
Finding the clippers, it wielded them in bloodshot tendrils of wool.
From inside the house came cries that fractured the calm silence of the
meadow, screams of the farmer’s sheared terror.

Jeffrey

It wasn’t every day a hero was woken up from suspended animation.
Then, today was not just any day, it would be the trail for all
humanity. They would be found guilty of course, how else could the
aliens plan to take the planet away.
“Are you ready for this Kildorn?”
“Was created for this.”
“Do you remember the plan?”
“Go in disrupt the trial and kill the head judge.”
“Right just go in and chop his head off then everyone will realize we
can beat them.”
“But did we have to name them Gladiolas, I feel like a gardner.”

Norval Joe

The teenage boy didn’t care that he trampled the old woman’s gladiolus; prize
winning plants that she had spent years, even decades, propagating.
Hers was the only house in the neighborhood, as yet, untagged by the street gang.
One hand held the waist of his baggy pants, the other hand shook the can of spray
paint.
In his excitement he didn’t notice the tingling of his legs. Sudden shocking pain
wracked him as vines tore into the flesh of his legs. The plants rose up and pulled
him to the earth.
By morning the ground was smooth, the flowerbed undisturbed.

Mike P.

Batman hung against the wall, bound by a thorned vine.
“Did you know that many plants reproduce sexually?” Poison Ivy teased.
“They have male parts,” she ran her fingers across his chest, “and
female parts.” She turned and walked away, hips swaying suggestively.
“Insects pick up pollen from male parts, and then rub against the
fertile female parts.”
Batman knew he had to stay focused. He began cataloging the plants in
the room. Nightshade. Caladium. Hemlock. Foxglove. Gladiolas. Aloe.
“Enh, screw it.” Ivy laid a poisoned kiss on Batman. He noticed a wall
of Lipstick Vine, and then passed out.

Planet Z

His latest experiment gone awry, Voltmaster called for the healer.
Her apprentice, nothing more than a shambling green robe, examined the wounded electromage. She took notes, rapidly communicating with a broken shard of mirror.
“Healer Twelvetrees commands a tea of mint and gladiolas,” she said. “Drink what you can fresh, and pour the rest on the burns.”
The Voltmaster agreed and paid the healer with a spool of precious copper wire.
“An antiseptic,” she said. “Nice craftsmanship.”
She loaded it on to her butterfly chariot, snapped her bony fingers, and rose slowly from the ancient castle.