Friday 24 November 2017

Back home but stlll effectively bed-bound

and short of time so have not had chance to properly look back at all I've missed., but Thank you Patricia for clearing up my muddles and taking on the judging  -
am I right in thinking you'll do next week's too?

Words for next week:  grain, ignorance shanty 
Entries by midnight Thursday 30th October  November, winners and words posted Friday 1st December

Usual rules: 100 words maximum (excluding title) of flash fiction or poetry using all of the three words above in the genres of horror, fantasy, science fiction or noir. Serialised fiction is, as always, welcome. All variants and use of the words and stems are fine. Feel free to post links to your stories on Twitter or Facebook or whichever social media you prefer.

41 comments:

  1. ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH....

    Accepting my deputization for another week or so, I will announce my choice for last week's winner. Although I must admit to my imagination being totally captured by Rosie's Planning Ahead (#104 of Rosebud's Adventures), the gold goes to Bill's A New Subject for its innovative subject matter and amazing composition.

    Again, at the risk of being presumptuous, I believe the deadlines should read as follows:
    Entries by midnight Thursday 30th November, winners and words posted Friday 1st December

    And welcome back, Sandra. Please take your time to feel tip-top once more. I'm happy to be your understudy for as long as you need ... albeit the fact that understudies are never truly as good as the real thing!!!

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    1. Thanks, Patricia. The buzz of energy on arriving home after 24 hours travelling proved short-lived.

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  2. Congrats Bill. Good choice Patricia.

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  3. Shanty Town Massacre

    The grain train, a mile long, transporting winter wheat through the rolling Minnesota countryside ground to a halt. Makeshift shanties dotted the two ice covered lakes on either side of the tracks. Fishermen scurried about, checking tip ups and hauling pike up through holes in the ice.

    It was a fine day for fishing, Moo thought as her finger lingered over the remote control. She wasn’t ignorant, but wondered if there could’ve been a way to do this from a distance. It was just a test, not the real thing. Only a few would die. A trembling finger pressed the button.

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    1. I can only imagine what disaster the "real thing" would inflict. Lovely use of the prompt words and what a fascinating name is "Moo."

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    2. Lovely scene-setting here. Moo's ignorance sounds dangerous but I think a little more knowledge might be worse still.

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  4. Small Sacrifices

    She had been missing since dusk, everyone in ignorance of where she'd gone. Again.

    The appointed trapper, only too cognizant about the importance of finding her before nightfall, knew the likely ramifications of failure.

    During his search, he stumbled upon a secluded clearing where stood a little shanty with imitation wood grain exterior and thatched roof -- a cozy cottage with single flickering candle in the window, smoke spiraling from the chimney and invitingly open door.

    He entered with caution. She wasn't there.

    Only seven small bodies. Lifeless. Bloodless.

    Testament to Snow White's ever-growing tally of ill-fated victims.


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    1. That was clever. That dang Snow White. I wonder who else she killed besides the dwarfs. I found it interesting that the cottage had imitation wood grain exterior.

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    2. these old fairy tales come to life when subjected to the horror filter... this one's good!

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    3. Your skill with this sort of adoption/enhancement never fails to fill me with admiration.

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  5. The Hunt

    She emerges from behind the shanty, holding a heavy pitchfork at waist level like she’s been carrying it around her entire life. Her pockets are full of the grain she uses for bait.
    “Whut you planin to do with dat fork?”
    “I hunt critters.”
    ““Dat right? And after you stab ‘em they still alive?”
    “Not for long.” She raises her head. Her eyes sparkle like she is remembering her first kiss and her lips crack open and curl up in the corners.
    “I reckon it’d be ignant to let ‘em suffer too long.”
    “Yes, it would.” She raises the fork.

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    1. I think she's about ready to graduate from critters to something a little higher on the food chain. Enjoyable read.

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    2. For some reason the reference to raising the fork led my mind into the dark realms of cannibalism. Purely my own twisted perception, I'm sure but still, I wonder....

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    3. I'm currently reading something of similar ilk ... terror finely honed and applied with skill.

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  6. The Farm Hand

    On fields as wide as infinite oceans an armada of mechanised harvesters was bringing in the grain. Hernandez watched from the lilting shanty as they moved in a synchronised column toward a rust blood horizon where sheaths of barley touched alien sky.
    To the east gargantuan silos strained at the seams.
    Hernandez ran the diagnostic software to check for any mechanical faults. Across the galaxy there was an ignorance of the power he wielded. The push of a button might plunge entire worlds into starvation.
    Smiling he sent his proposal for a substantial uplift in pay

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    1. This probably isn't too far off from what the future holds for food distribution. Very well done.

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    2. a chilling look into a very probable future. Good one.

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    3. What totally amazing visuals this conjured, almost like the illustrations of a graphic novel. And how subtly innocuous is Hernandez.

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    4. Power in the hands of a very few, used against the masses.

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  7. Cripplegate Junction/Part 123 - Thereby Hangs A Tale

    Marmalade and the Station Master went back a long way and it amused the Station Master to note the feline's ingrained aversion to water, particularly considering the lineage of prestigious ship's cats in Marmalade's ancestry.

    Most eminent was Oscar (a/k/a Unsinkable Sam), who had survived disasters involving the Bismarck, Cossack and Ark Royal, to end his days at Belfast's "Home For Sailors."

    The Station Master, possessed of a rich baritone, sometimes crooned sea shanty lyrics in Marmalade's ear. Fur bristled, but the cat feigned ignorance of their significance.

    Marmalade and the Station Master went back a very long way indeed.

    --------------------------------------------------------
    To read the earlier installments (a suggestion only) which led to this point in the tale please visit:
    http://www.novareinna.com/cripplegate.html
    A link to return to "The Prediction" can be found on the site. Thank you.
    ---------------------------------------------------------

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    1. Quite the pedigree Marmalade has. I'd like to meet Unsinkable Sam...sounds like my kind of cat.

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    2. makes me wonder what else is in Marmalade's history... and what else might be revealed in future episodes.

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    3. So when is the Station Master going to give Marmalade his comeuppance?

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    5. Looking back over past episodes, I see I have linked the lineage of the honorable Marmalade to Skimbleshanks, Trim, Pyewacket, the revered Pangur Bán and now, Unsinkable Sam...to say nothing of Marmalade's aspirations to become a clone of the Cheshire Cat. Luckily, he is more than equal to the task, if only in his own estimation!

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  8. “The word ramshackle comes to mind.”

    “Christ Karen, it’s an ice shanty. It ain’t the Taj Mahal.”

    “It makes us look like ignorant grain farmers, Hank.”

    “You want me to get rid of it then?”

    “Can’t you keep it somewhere else?”

    “Oh yeah, I’ll take it to our summer house, or maybe our lake cottage. Perhaps the chauffer will have a suggestion.”

    “Maybe you could work a full week once in a while.”

    “Maybe you could not buy shoes this week.”

    “Kiss my ass, Hank.”

    “I was thinking the same thing.” They smiled and hurried into the house.


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    1. there's a lot going on here. One of my ongoing lectures is 'don't include back story' as it slows everything down. Here back story is hinted at without slowing anything down. Tis good.

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    2. Deft and immensely entertaining - thank you John

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    3. Oh too too cute, John. You suggestive little devil you!

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  9. Kursaal (Episode Ninety Seven) - "Coming Attraction"

    "Picaroon Lagoon" was located at a far-flung corner of the park. Most Kursaal performers were ignorant of its existence. The attraction's instigator remained an enigma. There appeared to be no proprietor and certainly no patrons.

    The pristine display celebrated the Piracy Age. Casks of grain alcohol sat on the deck and lilting strains of the sea shanty "Blow The Man Down" echoed from the berth below.

    Recently, there had been evidence of activity. The lagoon itself was now filled with water and sturdy plank (presumably for walking) extended over the side of the sloop.

    A sign proclaimed: "GRAND OPENING SOON"

    ---------------------------------------------------------
    To read the earlier installments (a suggestion only) which led to this point in the tale, please visit:
    http://www.novareinna.com/kursaal.html
    A link to return to "The Prediction" can be found on the site. Thank you.
    ---------------------------------------------------------

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  10. The Mad Italian 34
    In the shanty they call the Parliament building are men of ignorance with not so much as a grain of knowledge of the working man, the one they say they are representing. Were that to be so, laws would be passed for such things as zero hour contracts and other nefarious ways of making a living without taking on employees and paying their dues to the Government. I realise my comments echo those of last week but it is on my mind that the ‘common man’ is being deprived of his birthright – freedom to live without interference by the State.

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    1. This was so reminiscent of the delivery of a rousing speech and I love the idea of Parliament being no more than a shanty. How perfectly apt. Long lived the "common man" and his right to freedom. Lord knows, the fight for such a liberty has been long and hard over the centuries. AND "man" here being used to accommodate both genders I might add.

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  11. John, Brexit, the whole of the United Kingdom had a free vote on this subject, leave or stay. Leave won by a narrow majority. Immediately the Remain people demanded a new vote. So unfair and so undemocratic, would Leave have demanded a new vote if they had lost? Remain is made up of the business fat cats and people who are too scared to take the step back. We need out of the EU soonest so we once again have our own laws. It's one of the few times recently I have voted. The ordinary elections, on the island, are a foregone conclusion, as we have no real opposition to the Conservative party candidates, whoever they are.

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  12. To add further problems to those of sickness (though today finally saw some improvement), I have to confess to having stupidly rendered my laptop dysfunctional. It is being looked at and fingers crossed can be repaired, but I fear my attendance will still be be sporadic.
    I'll schedule new words and very gratefully leave Patricia with the task of picking this weeks winner.

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    1. Not a problem, Sandra. Hopefully, this sees the end of your recent string of unfortunate circumstances.

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  14. Now it's short enough.

    The Adventures of Rosebud, Pirate Princess #105
    Fires are Best with Songs


    I’m in ignorance of the reasons behind the creation of the fire newts, though I do know they’re near cousins of the fire-spitting creatures found in the blue forest. Last night we avoided the fire newts and crossed paths with some shanty-men, singing about grain-stealing pirates, of all things. Natasha and I love a good shanty, though most people don’t know our favorites, the creepy one about the blanket that’s not a blanket, the one with the monkey-pony, and the one about every possible religion. I’m also quite fond of anything with a good, loud chorus, though Natasha prefers ballads.

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    1. Absolutely enchanting and such a wonderfully innovative use of the prompts. I adore hearing about Rosebud's adventures, but I do believe this is one of the best to date. I had to chuckle at the fact "Natasha prefers ballads," but must say I'm with our Pirate Princess in being "fond of anything with a good, loud chorus."

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