Weekly Challenge #168 – Shrouded in Mist

13301938

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-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 Shrouded in Mist.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were your favorite stories this week?
Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com
TJ from http://tjaman.libsyn.com/
Lewis from http://lewismoten.com
Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
Mick from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com
Danny from http://dannymachal.com
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


Justin

The sliver of moon shone onto the obscuring mists. A lone car traveled slowly along the road that wove amongst the fields. It swerved, narrowly missing an escaped miniature pony and ran into a ditch. Dogs barked, but no one came from the farmhouse. The driver climbed out. From the fields of mist arose the hungry dead. The driver unawares until one grasped his shoulder. Scrambling back into the car, the driver spun his wheels, getting nowhere. The horse spooked and kicked, breaking the driver’s window. The dead cut themselves on shards of glass as they climbed in to feast.

TJ

Tiny flecks of dew sparkled on the fine hairs of her forearms, adding to the illusion of sinful gaudy display in the encumbered moonlight. A fine night for a walk, Goody Williams thought, luxuriating in the sensation of her lustrous auburn hair, gathered by day into a proper bun, now flowing freely about her naked shoulders. Any other night the city fathers would surely flog her in stocks but not this night, she mused. Shrouded as she was in night, the deep Salem mists wrapped about her skin, she was free as Godiva and yet modest as her puritanical mother.

Lewis

I heard stories of a wise person once that lived on a mountain.
The path to wisdom was said to be shrouded in mist.
The guru’s sight was able to pierce through the depths of your own.
Your life is an open book without words.
I decided to take the trek to find the man.
I found a village where many people spoke of the same story.
They pointed to the mountain above the town; its peak was hidden by clouds.
The journey up the mountain took two days.
At the top, I found a shack with only a mirror.

Guy David

Heavy mist lifted above the graveyard. Georgy Ghost has risen above his grave, stretched and yawned, then got ready for his morning exercises. “Have to keep in shape” he told Jenny Ghost who’s also been rising. “You don’t say” she said. Her chin had fallen and she had to pick it up and reconnect it to the rest of her face. “You see what I mean?” said Georgy. He made himself ghost coffee, then they heard a loud noise and the patchwork bus came out of Georgy’s grave and made him the bus’s ghost, morning coffee still in one hand.

Mick

The old man walked along the beach, waves lapping over his feet. He had hidden what they were looking for, buried it deep in the sand, awaiting the next generation to take up the cause. His work was done and he was ready for them, no will left to run.
He felt the knife push against his back, but the pain as it pierced his heart was dulled by the pain he already felt at leaving his family alone.
They searched for their prize, but left empty-handed and angry.
Lifeless, his body crumpled to the ground, shrouded in mist.

Norval Joe

Chad stepped forward blindly, the small black box held out before him.
A red pinpoint of light flashed on the screen, and the box vibrated with warmth if he followed its direction, instantly cold if he diverged from its guidance.
He had only a few minutes to cross over and now that he was here, he had no idea where to go.
After hours of wandering, he sat, shrouded in the mist.
A short haired cat, slate grey with silver tipped ears and tail, sat by him.
Chad stared into its copper eyes.
“You’re lost, aren’t you?” The cat said.

Jeff 1

“I thought you said this island was always shrouded in mist.”
“It is.”
“What are you crazy, it is clear as a bell, can can see all the way to New York City from here.”
“Really, that’s an awful long way off.”
“No you Idiot, it is turn of phrase. What I was trying to say is that there is no mist.”
“Oh, I see then.”
“But this place is supposed to be hidden.”
“Why?”
“Because it is Avalon.”
“And?”
“People would start expecting King Arthur to come back.”
“Is he one of the Queens sons?”
“No, he’s king of the Britons.”

Jeff 2

Henry stood alone on the plain and waited. He had been waiting for most of his life, but this was a new one. He had waited to be born, he had waited in line in school, he had waited at the bank and the grocery store. It had really gotten to be a habit for him, he even waited while his mother had died last year and the doctors said there was nothing to be done. His whole life had been waiting. Now he waited for death. When it came it was shrouded in mist.
“Can I help you Henry?”

Lynda

Ven night falls and ze vild volf howls, look to ze full moon high in ze southvestern skies. Zere, upon ze hill, shrouded in mist, you may see it. Follow ze forest road, taking ze first left after ze graveyard. Pass ze vaterfall where ze fallen oak tree rests and continue until you reach ze fork. If you see a man vith a shovel, proceed with caution to ze right. Ven you spy a vooman selling flowers, bid her good evening and ride on until ze road ends.
Zere you will find ze Best Vestern. Tell zem Maleva sent you.

Danny

Sunset – two children play in an overgrown meadow far from home.
“Do you see that Danny?” Katrina stared ahead and quivered at the approaching wall of mist.
“I see it. It’s coming at us fast,” Danny took Katrina’s hand. She squeezed hard and inched herself close to him.
A torrent of wind propelled the thick white blinding mist, engulfing the two kids. Katrina shut her eyes burying her face in Danny’s chest.
“Danny I’m scared,” she shouted, crying.
The screaming wind died. Katrina opened her tear blurred eyes.
She stood alone, sobbing.
The mist had taken Danny away from her.

Anima

Hey – did you see that? I thought I saw…
There’s nothing in there – you’re such a scaredy pants. Every time you go camping it’s the same thing. Remember the “Bear”? I don’t think that old man will ever be the same. And in California you almost broke my leg with your booby traps for Bigfoot. Why do you even leave the house? Just go take a shower already.
I’ve changed my mind – We’re only out here a few more days…
Shrouded in the mist, the giant praying mantis munches on the head of a hapless camper who wasn’t so paranoid.

Planet Z

Wolfram stared at the castle on the hill and argued with his traveling companion Foster.
“I say it’s shrouded in mist,” said Wolfram.
“No, there’s too much mist there for a simple shroud,” said Foster. “Maybe blanketed, perhaps?”
“Why not just say it’s enveloped and be done with it?” snarled Wolfram.
They kept up the argument for a few minutes, not noticing the werewolf approaching.
Foster fumbled the silver bullet and fired far too late to save Wolfram.
“Okay, you’re right,” said Foster. “The castle is shrouded in mist. But you’re enveloped in blood.”
“Fuck you,” said Wolfram, and died.

Talk is cheap

639163

It used to be that talk was expensive. Only the nobles and politicians could afford to say anything while their servants and peasants were condemned to silence.
Some say that Hiram Gabsalot invented talk, but he didn’t: he just came up with a new industrial process to make it downright cheap.
Pretty soon, everyone was talking all the time. (Some people even talked in their sleep… something unheard of in the days when talk was as priceless as gold!)
The nobles and politicians eventually stopped talking altogether, choosing to use spokesmen to add to the constant barrage of meaningless drivel.

Drunk Robots On Stage

639171

“You can’t go wrong with drunk robots!” said the producer.
I watched as men in metal suits stumbled around, breaking furniture while the propmaster tore his hair out.
“This is supposed to be Billy Budd,” I said. “You know: sailors, mutiny, Judas symbols. Why robots?”
“Drunk robots!” growled the producer. “It represents man’s total loss of control.”
I watched the clanking shapes crash into each other while waving various broken bits of wood. “Which one’s Claggart and which one’s Vere?”
“They all are!” he shouted.
The play would have been a hit if it hadn’t have been for that electromagnet.

Hockey, My Love

639164

My first love was ice hockey.
I spent more time on the ice than I did anywhere else.
Especially the shower. I could kill a moose at forty paces with my stench.
I stank on ice. After a while, nobody would play with or against me.
One day, I got dragged into the shower and blasted with the fire hose.
Broke my leg, never quite healed up right.
When I couldn’t skate no more, I went to center ice, chipped a hole with my skate, and put a flower in there.
Then I slashed the throats of those firehose-waving bastards.

Alaska Wins!

639162

At first, I thought the flier said “Alaska Wins!” but it turned out to say “Alaska Wines!”
“Do grapes grow in Alaska?” I asked the Eskimo sitting in the booth
“Sure do!” he said. “It’s not just blizzards and Prudoe Bay oil, you know. When we don’t use hothouses, we’ve got nice wild berries on the nature trails and some really tough grapes up there.”
He handed me a glass and poured out some wine from a bottle that had a polar bear on the label.
I took one sip and spit it out.
Disgusting!
Alaska wins? No, Alaska Loses!

Cheese Bunnies

639164

Maybe down there in Florida or Texas you have your chocolate bunnies for Easter, but up here in Wisconsin, we have our cheese bunnies.
Yep. Cheese bunnies.
We didn’t get the idea for them from chocolate bunnies. You got that idea from us.
Long ago, some guy made cheddar Jesuses and called them “Cheesus.” Got lynched as a blasphemer.
His son thinks “I’ll make them into bunnies.”
Now, not everyone has as good cheese as us, but they make good chocolate.
So, they make chocolate bunnies.
I hear someone makes them out of ranch dressing.
That’s kinda stupid, isn’t it?

Calling names

639163

Every boy in my kindergarten class is named John and every girl is named Joan.
The other five classes are the same.
We check with the other schools in the district and they are reporting the same thing.
You’d think someone would have noticed this with the birth certificates, but nobody noticed a pattern or raised an alarm.
Normal name distribution in the district, normal migration patterns for a developed country.
One boy’s eyes flash blue for a moment.
Then the others. They all smile.
Where did these kids come from?
And where did all of the normal kids go?

Weekly Challenge #167 – Step into a Slim Jim

11399635

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-Seven, 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 Step Into A Slim Jim.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
Danny from http://dannymachal.com
Houston Keys from http://tatertotsforthemasses.blogspot.com
Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com
Platinum Lightning from http://sites.google.com/site/platinumlightningshow/
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
Lynda from http://sisterpeppersray.blogspot.com
Laurie from http://www.myspace.com/sufferingraven
Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com
Mike P. from http://mjpaxton.com/
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


Norval Joe

It was the morning of their final day on the face of El Capitan, in Yosemite National Park.
He sat on the edge of his port-o-ledge and adjusted his climbing harness.
He felt the layer of fat on his teeth and tongue and regretted eating the ‘Slim Jim’ the night before.
All their supplies were in the large pack they hauled up after each pitch they climbed. Water was limited on a multi-day climb, but he needed to brush his teeth.
As he spread hydrocortizone cream on his toothbrush, he suddenly realized why his jock itch wasn’t getting any better.

Danny Machal

Shakespeare leaned against a brick wall contemplating ancient prose.
‘Let’s face it, this stuff was drudging to read and made even the most poor pauper wish for the guillotine,’ he thought.
There was an explosion of brick and a brightly dressed man appeared.
“Art thou bored?!” the man shouted.
“Is this entirely appropriate? You can’t just…” but he was interrupted.
“Step into a SLIM JIM!” the rough looking man was forceful.
He proceeded to bite vigorously on a stick of meat. A snap was heard and the nearby grain mill exploded, showering them with bits of debris.

Houston Keys

OK, Macho Man, you ready to go buddy.
Yeah brother, I’m ready to go.
OK, here’s your line. “Step into a Slim Jim!” Anytime you’re ready.
What?
“Step. Into. A. Slim. Jim.” Whenever you feel it babe.
I thought it was “Snap into a Slim Jim.” That’s what we’ve been
saying for years.
Well Babe, change of plans. This is a new strategy, a new look.
How exactly do you “Step” into a Slim Jim? That doesn’t even make
sense. What kind of moron made this campaign up?
Do you want your paycheck or not?
“STEP INTO A SLIM JIM!”

Jeffrey Hite

It was not until he stood that he realized that his legs didn’t work. He fell painfully to his knees, or at least he believed it should be painful, because he could not feel his legs. Somewhere between sitting and standing he had been hit in the back, just below his ribs.
“You stole my car,” said a very angry woman now standing before him .
“What?”
“You stole my car you bastard, on my wedding day. He thought I stood him up.” Dumb founded he looked at her. “But we found your finger prints on your dropped slim jim.”

Guy David

Slim Jim stepped into the jungle gym. The metal rods expended around him. He started climbing, forever reaching upwards. As the ground disappeared below him a bus appeared, flying between the rods. Slim Jim advanced towards the bus, then he made a jump for it. Unfortunately, he missed it. As he fell down he could see the face of Elvis, the bus driver staring at him, then the bus dove for him, trying to catch him. Sadly, Elvis couldn’t fly as well as he could drive. Slim Jim ended as a squashed mess on the floor of the jungle gym.

Platinum Lightning

“Hey, look what I just invented. It’s a round stick of dehydrated meat.”
“Cool! It can be a snack or a dowel!”
“Looks marketable to me.”
“That’s not all. It’s magical. Take a bite.”
“Is that a portal?”
“Yep.”
“Is it safe to go inside?
“Probably. I haven’t tried it myself.”
“Here I go.”
“Ugh, what’s happening to him?”
“He’s being eaten by cactus people.”
“There go his arms. Ew. I think these are marketable enough without the portal.”
“I was thinking the exact same thing.”

Anima

Howdy Pardner! Put some spaghetti in your western role-play – Step right into a Slim Jim today!
If you need to cowboy up, but don’t have a clue, then put on the white hat that gives you the Sergio Leone backdrop you’ve been searching for. Swagger like you’ve spent a month on the Chisholm Trail, smile a gap toothed grin that shows you floss with barbed wire, and use a ten gallon vocabulary that consists of “yep”, “nope”, and “ ‘nother whiskey for me and my horse.”
Don’t be fooled by other inferior white hats – Accept only genuine Slim Jim’s.

Lynda

“What’ve we got?”
“Macho Man Randy Savage. Looks like he blew through the wall of that skyscraper, did the big diving elbow drop.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah.”
“Find any tire tracks?”
“Nah, if it was that bus his body wouldn’t be here.”
“True. Think it’s the same perp that lured the Kool-Aid man out of the Space Needle?”
“Beats me.”
A Slim Jim crunched under the coroner’s foot. He picked it off the ground and bit into it. I cringed.
“What? It’s not like he’s gonna eat it.”
High above, the leader of the mechanically separated chicken justice league clucked contentedly.

Laurie

She was ready…her hair done up tight in a blue bandana. Her body was tense and she could smell the fear in the air. . every time she raised her fist in the air the girls behind her would chant …the tears would fade and the anger surfaced. her opponent looked to be at least four years her elder. the skanky Cholo pulled her knife and her smile angered Shovay. Shovay swung
immediately knocking the knife to the ground. As the girl knelt to retrieve the knife she delivered a fatal blow, the carcass fell and brain matter spilled into the cracks in the sidewalk. The Cholo’s baby sister started screaming at Shovay
and came at her…she held up the slim-jim just to push the young one away…forgetting she had sharpened the end…as the lil one stepped into it running its point between her ribs and deep within her lung….shovay withdrew the slim jim and the city fell silent …the only sound was a faint whistle of air escaping from Jelli’s Wound. It wasn’t suppose to go down like that.

Justin

“Jim, you home? Vacation was a blast!”
He rolled in his suitcase and dropped his keys on an end table right next to Jim’s. The suitcase he leaned against a wall.
“Hey, Jim?”
The TV was on. A game waited on the screen, paused. No Jim in sight.
A look in the kitchen and the bathroom also revealed no Jim.
Jim’s bedroom was dark. On the way to the lamp, Matthew stepped into something squishy.
When he flipped in the light, he found that he had stepped into his roomate’s decayed remains.
In the background, The Who began to play.

Mike P

At Donovan’s Institute for Personal Control, we believe in your
freedom to choose. You may have been born in just one specific body,
but thanks to modern technology you don’t have to stay there. Our
revolutionary External Control System makes stepping in to a different
body as easy as walking through a door. In seconds you can be taller,
shorter, more athletic, blonde, brunette, younger, or older. Some of
our clients have even stepped into bodies of the opposite gender.
Whether you want to be a Fat Matt or step into a Slim Jim, we’d love
to help you out.

Planet Z

There’s this Broadway show called “Snap” that’s getting rave reviews.
No, not “Stomp.” These people don’t stomp. They snap.
Their fingers snap like firecrackers, gunfire, or as light as a kiss on the back of the neck.
Their big star is named Jim Slim. Each of his fingers are worth a million bucks.
Insured by the Mob, it turns out.
One evening, he’s going through his routine, and he slips and falls.
But the snapping doesn’t stop. It’s a recorded track.
He’s been doing hand-sync all along.
What did Jim Slim step in?
The Mafia snapped his legs.

The shock

639159

Today, we fill our bodies with drugs to make up for reckless lives.
In the world of tomorrow, futurists say there will be nanobots making adjustments, repairs, and corrections.
At what point do we stop being ourselves and end up at the mercy of machines?
Does it matter who controls the machines?
Does it matter who dispenses the drugs?
What raw animal instincts are we prisoners to?
Perhaps we never have had any control over ourselves?
I feel a spark and my vision flickers for a bit.
I feel better now.
That shot didn’t hurt at all. Thank you, Doctor.

Caulk

639155

I stood over the sheriff with my caulking gun, a ribbon of white goo still swinging from the nozzle.
The sheriff was confused. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be to get this crap out of my shirt?”
Not hard at all if you know what you’re doing.
You see, I run the town’s drycleaning shop.
Caulk is easy to get out of a shirt. Easier than blood.
That’s why I gunfight with a caulking gun.
He gets up, draws his gun, and shoots me.
Great. A huge bloodstain on my shirt.
This’ll be a bitch to fix.