Esther’s Ghosts

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Esther had her grandson go up into the attic and bring down the box from the corner.
“It’s for the museum,” she said, rubbing her wrist where the numbers were.
Later that week, the museum thanked her for her contributions, but insisted that she sit for an interview.
“We’d like to add your memories to the collection,” they said.
“Let those memories die with me, please,” said Esther.
“Without ghosts to haunt us, it could happen again,” said the museum. “How easily we forget.”
Esther nodded, hoping that there would never again be the need to keep awful memories around.

Weekly Challenge #23 – Cat Burglar

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Welcome to the twenty-third Weekly Challenge, 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 selected by last week’s winner Rahel: Cat burglar.
Twelve stories were submitted this week.
No rookies this week. Boo!
And, as always, the usual madness by Planet Z.
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Who had the best story for the 23nd Weekly Challenge?
T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Laieanna
Caroline from Quadra
Jim P.
Rahel from Elms In The Yard
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
Kolek from The Kolektive
Tommy from KAG Report
Cynthia
The Mystery Man from Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
TA MARQUETTE

Watson turned his head towards the violin.
“What is that your playing, Holmes?” ask the Doctor.
Without a glance of notice he replied
“The Cat Burglar’s Lament.”
“Oh Yes, it is February 25.” Quipped Watson.
“Pity poor Peace,” said Holmes.
“I will not,” huffed Watson “he stole the very violin your playing.”
“And all the while as you slept in that very chair.”
“Not the point Holmes. Charles Peace was a thief and murderer.
Marwood’s long drop was too kind an end.”
“Oh Watson, He was more than that and dissevered less.
For when he played he’d steal your heart.”

CALEB

“Why do they call this cat burglary anyway? We’re not stealing cats. There’s plenty of cats as it is, who the hell would buy a used cat much less a stolen used cat?”
“Shut up”
“And we’re certainly not stealing from cats. Cats don’t own anything. Cats don’t have pockets. Why would anyone try to burgle cats?”
“Would you please shut up?”
“Sure, I’ll shut up just as soon as you can tell me why they call this cat burglary when there’s no cats involved.”
“It’s because we’re supposed to be quiet. Like cats are.”
“Oh! Sorry about that.”
“yeah”

ELISSON

Cold wind rattled the bushes as Pak Rhee plastered himself against the side of the building, making himself invisible.
The street was empty. It was time for him to make his move.
He hoisted himself up and slid the pry-bar under the window’s edge. Ten seconds later, he was inside the elderly lady’s apartment. Working quickly, padding from room to room in complete silence, he filled his sack.
It was a good haul. Fifteen of ’em. Crazy old woman.
The manager of Korea House handed Rhee a fat envelope. “Dinner?”
Rhee declined politely. He had never cared for Seoul food.

ANDREW

Morris the cat burglar was pleased with himself when he got home from his latest foray. It was this challenge that led him off to a fortress-like house on the outskirts of Camden, Maine. He was on holiday and just needed to do a job. He’d not even bothered to look in the box he stole; merely assuming it was valuable on account of its location in the house. He barely had time to scream as the shape crashed through the roof and grabbed him by the shoulders lifting him out of the broken building. He never understood his fate.

LAIEANNA

“Where did you hide it?” the uniformed figure barked.
“Hide what, officer?” she purred.
“Lieutenant,” he growled back. “The necklace. We know you stole it.”
She playfully swatted at him. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Others in the room panted, excitedly, their eyes never leaving her.
“Very well,” he replied, baring his teeth. “Search her again, boys.”
With no valid charges, she was released. Barely out of the station, the convulsions began and up came a hairball. Smiling, she pulled away the wet fur to reveal her prize. She liked shiny things that dangled before her green eyes.

CAROLINE

Jake couldn’t believe he’d landed the red head. She was slinky and smart. His mate Barry always got the girl. This time it was him. What a great cook too. She’d stayed over last night – and that was a night to remember. Then he’d woken to frying bacon and steaming coffee. Wow he couldn’t believe his luck. What tales he’d have to brag about at the plant. She said she stay and clean up after he left. Nice. He got home around 5 with blissful anticipation. The door was a-jar. He’d been totally cleaned out. Cool cat burglar indeed.

JIM P.

With graceful ease, Raffles slid through the penthouse window and glided
silently across the marble floor.
Suddenly, the lights came on and a woman’s voice yelled, “Stop where you
are! Acts 2:38!”
(Repent and be baptized, in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may
be forgiven.)
Raffles froze in place, not even daring to turn around. He stayed that way
until the police arrived.
“Why didn’t you just run away after the lady yelled a scripture at you?”
asked the cop cuffing Raffles.
“What scripture?” Raffles shot back. “She said she had an axe and two .38s!”

LISA

Myrtle didn’t know why the detectives were questioning her so harshly. She had no idea where the jewelry under her stairs had came from. She was a church-going woman, certainly not a criminal!
The detectives received a call about another similar robbery; the suspect was shot dead at the scene. Still suspecting Myrtle’s involvement, they brought in a picture of the deceased suspect and asked her if she knew him.
She cried out in shock as she recognized her old cat, Mr. Dickers behind that hole in his forehead and all the blood.
He had always loved things that sparkled.

TOMMY

Too much light, it was easier in the dark. At least the mark was looking the wrong way, maybe he’d be OK even without shadows. He crept silently away from the window, he’d learned you had to watch for everything the kids left on the floor. Toys were annoying, but it was the crunch of a candy wrapper that he worried about the most, you just couldn’t take that back when it happened. He made it across the room, grabbed his prize and silently worked his way back to the window unnoticed clutching the treat between his teeth. Stupid dog.

CYNTHIA

He peered into the room before venturing through the open window. He saw the object of his desire just a short distance from him.
He crawled into the dark room, careful as not to disturb his prey. On tiptoes he glided across the parquet floor. All he needed was just one more step and he would have it in his grubby hands.
As he reached out to grab his treasure, it hissed angrily and a claw swiped across his face. He yelped in pain and jumped back. Unfortunately this was the trials and tribulations of being a career cat burglar.

And it just wouldn’t be a Weekly Challenge without the Champion of the Planet of Mad Bards…
PLANET Z

In space, nobody can hear you breaking and entering.
It’s not so easy to be a cat burglar in the orbital colony stations. Cameras are everywhere, watching for leaks or stray repair robots.
One does not just pop in through an airlock. They’re damn noisy, with sirens and flashing lights.
If you piggyback on a cargo vessel, your additional mass along with the mass of your loot will be detected.
So how do I do it?
I’m not telling you. Because I don’t need any competition, and I don’t trust you enough at this point.
Now how much can I get for these titantium servopods?

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.
(In case you’re interested, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

Disarming

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Maria Lopez was found dead in the breakdown lane, sitting in her SUV with her arm ripped out of its socket.
The first of many victims. Many more.
Pretty soon, you couldn’t drive the highways without passing one.
Then, a one-armed soccer coach crashed into an Emergency Room, covered with blood.
“I was talking on my cell phone, and he attacked me,” he said before dying.
The Cell Phone Vigilante was caught stalking an off-duty cop.
He’d lost his daughter to a careless driver talking on a cell phone. So, for revenge, he wandered the city and took their arms.

Space

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It’s all systems go when Houston Keys sends in his 100 word stories.

Floating in space above the blue and green ball we call Earth with nothing to block your view was incredible, you could see forever.
Captain Hunter was moving briskly from the front of the shuttle to the rear when he realized he couldn’t stop. Arms flailing he uselessly tried to change his course in some way. Reaching the extreme length of his umbilical tether it popped, exhausting his air supply. His body reacted with a violent pop filling his spacesuit with red goo, boiling in the oxygen less environment.
That game of crack the whip wasn’t such a good idea.

Mother of monsters

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Cynthia, quite literally, gave birth to the Teratagenic Art Movement.
She’d get pregnant and then take a whole series of birth defects-causing chemicals.
Once the “artwork” was ready, she’d have a late-term abortion and have the monstrosity preserved in a jar.
She was quite a prolific artist, splashing life and death on her revolting canvases.
When menopause finally hit, she realized that she had birthed no heir to pass her craft to.
Nor would any right-minded agency allow her to adopt.
Students came and students went, but the chemicals eventually killed Cynthia.
And the Art Movement with her, thank God.

Private Time

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Let’s give a big hand to Houston Keys for a fun 100 word story that’s all about family.

Being the father of a large family took it’s toll on Jim. He often sought out refuge in the only place a fifty year old father of five could go for quiet, the bathroom.
It had it’s downsides as Jim had hemorrhoids the size of dogs and he carried the smell of Charmin and feces with him.
The final straw came when he locked himself in the toilet for eight hours straight, ignoring the cries of the bowels of his family. Taking a play from Janet Reno they cut power to the bathroom and charged the door in riot gear.

Retentive Red

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Red was a man who believed in an orderly life.
Perhaps it was his military background, but for whatever reason, it was “a place for everything, and everything in its place.”
His gun cabinet was carefully arranged, weapons sorted by type and caliber. You could eat off the floor of his garage…provided you cleaned up afterwards.
And his butt-plugs? Meticulously shelved by size.
To those who questioned his orderly outlook, Red would always say, “There’s nothing wrong with being a little anal.”
To those who questioned his personal proclivities, Red would always say, “There’s nothing wrong with a little anal.”

Fishes and Loaves

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You’d think being Jesus Christ’s roommate would be cool, right?
Wrong, man. The guy’s seriously fucked up.
First off, the shit he does with his pet goldfish. He brings his friends over, multiples the thing, and eats all of the fishes alive except one.
Sticks that last one back in the fishbowl for the next time.
Then there’s the toaster. Sticks two slices of bread in the thing, thousands of slices pop out.
Crumbles it all up to feed the birds in the park.
I’d throw him out, but he keeps promising to cure my leprosy.
He never does, though.

The Stopped-Up Watch

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From the look on his face, Edwin hasn’t taken a dump for over a week.
From the numbers on his wristwatch, you’d be right.
You see, he keeps a running timer on his wristwatch to count the time since his last dump, and right now it’s saying a week.
When he takes a dump, he resets it.
But not recently. Since he hasn’t taken a dump.
Wait – he’s running off to the bathroom.
You’ll probably be able to tell by Edwin’s face if he’s taken a dump.
As long as it’s been, he may not remember to reset the watch.

The Lever

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For Archimedes’ birthday, we all chipped in and got him a lever.
“Is it long enough to move the world?” we asked him.
“It’s looks long enough,” he said, holding it in his hands. “Let’s find out.”
Archimedes put it down, spat into his hands, and rubbed them together. Then, he picked the lever back up and began to dig it into the ground with all of his might.
“Can you feel the world moving?” asked Archimedes.
Just then, an earthquake struck Athens. Many were killed.
For the safety of all, the lever was melted down into various homoerotic trinkets.