Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty Five, 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 Rusty Steel.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
Anima
I hunt along the rusty Steel river… Eerie hulks list and careen; weeds grow out of the crazed asphalt. When cars ran out of gas on I-95, travel halted on the east coast. Anything salvageable is long gone.
The seats and mirrors are missing, but the trunk is still latched. How did this get missed by the others? The lock gives, and I find- 2 blankets and a box of powerbars. A corner of the carton is gnawed, but most bars are whole. Enough to trade.
Today is a good day, I think, as the cold sun reflects off my face.
Houston Keys
Hello there everyone this is Republican Chairman Michael Steele in for
Bill Bennett. Let’s go to the phones, Rusty from Lenoir City,
Tennessee, you are on!
Mikey, it’s your brother.
Yo my homie brother! It’s good people realize I DO have street cred. WORD!
No, Mikey, it’s your REAL brother.
I don’t have a biological brother sir, but we are all brothers in the
conservative movement.
Mikey, brothers as in we share a mother. My name is Rusty.
Rusty Steele?
Yes.
Oh lordy lordy, this has to be either a bad joke or a REALLY GREAT one
hundred word story.
Lynda
“Excuse me sir, are you Hattori Hanzo?”
“No.”
“With all due respect, sir, I was here when that lady came in here before and–”
“Yeah, alright, it’s me! What do you want?”
“Well, sir, I was wondering if you could do anything about this sword?”
“Oh…what have you done to it? This is not a disposable weapon, you fool! It is a work of art! My steel must be treated with respect! Oiled, cleaned, kept…out of certain things. Tell me, how did it get into this state?”
“It’s really hard to shower with a sword through my head, sir.”
Justin
Everything changed when the aliens took the moon away. Over time the tides stopped and a desolation crept across the planet. Small teams of aliens arrived to slowly wipe out survivors. They came across a lone clock tower that rose above the ruins. Rhythmic ticking quietly protested alien onslaught. The usurpers of life climbed the tower. In the center was a lone figure, weathered and aged. It raised its ticking eyes to the aliens. They raised their rifles. The figure reached reached to its back and wound up a key. One by one the aliens fell from the tower, dead.
Tom
Rusty Steel played petal guitar for Buck Edward’s Chaparral Stumpers. He hated being on the road so he only played session work on their albums. Buck begged him to come with, it took two guy playing as hard and fast as they could to give the road show that Rusty Steel sound. One year it was DuPre Reinhardt and Blind Willie Lang the next it was Baxter Gibson and Gusty Winds. When Rusty passed away Buck learned the reason he never toured was he just couldn’t bear to be away from his daughters for even one night. That’s a Dad.
Norval Joe
Inigo lay dead, the thrust to his heart so rapid and deadly that little blood oozed from the fatal wound.
It wasn’t a thrust from the shinning, razor-sharp, blade of a master swordsman, like Arnesto Cervantes, nor was it the rusty steel of a clandestine, blackguard, mercenary.
He had no opportunity to use the Agrippa defense and take advantage of uneven ground, or engage in witty banter with his attacker.
He couldn’t thrust his fist into the gaping wound and difiantly challenge his murderer.
Lawrence cut him down with an attack he could not counter; an expletive to the heart.
Daniel
In the onset of winter, the blink of an eye is all the time it takes to split the sternum and pierce the heart.
Four days will have gone by when the maggots and other insects begin to consume the flesh.
Thirty days until the beetles come to feast on the tough dry meat.
One hundred twenty days for the moths and bacteria to consume the remaining hair.
Spring will bring the warm humid rains as summer creeps upon what is left.
Fourteen days more until the steel blade bleeds dark red onto the newly polished and washed bone.
Eternity for the soul to forgive.
Bluesmoke
Don’t bring me any of those shiny steel rods. I like my steel rusty. I like it crunchy. I like steel that makes little popping sounds when I chew. I like that steel that slowly dissolves inside my body, leaving a warm sensation in all the right places. I used to nibble on rocks, but it wasn’t the same. Tiny pieces would get stuck in my teeth. Would take hours clearing. It was messy, and the taste was kind of stale. Now I’m on a steel diet. I’m telling you – rusty steel is the way to go. It’s the best.
Planet Z
We made the worker drones with simple carbon steel.
Planned obsolescence for a rainy planet. They lock up before they achieve individual intelligence.
Stainless steel wouldn’t have rusted as quickly. The same goes for zinc-electroplated.
So when chrome and zinc inventories were short last month, we knew something was up.
“Follow The Energy” is my first rule.
Three unauthorized taps from the solar halo grid.
Deep underground, scrap metal and drones were melted down and rebuilt with the stronger steels.
The Robot Army, waiting silently for the command to strike.
And so, by pushing a button, I give it.
I think the midget’s got a lot of soul.