Tuesday, 18 December 2012

My Xmas Gift to You




Hi peeps and festive greetings to you all.

I'd really like to give presents to my loyal blog followers but I don't trust paypal, e-Bay or the Xmas post.

So instead I'm going to give gifts right here on the blog!

If you just tweet me or comment in the box below a story prompt, I'll write and post here your very own flash fiction, between 100 and 500 words. The prompt can be a picture, a title, a theme, 3 words that have to be worked into the story. You can suggest genre too if you're feeling really evil!

I'll try and get the story up as soon as possible in response, so it'll be good to tweet me that you've put in a request. On Twitter I'm @21stCscribe as if you didn't know who was gumming up your timeline already!

I'm going to throw this open from this Friday 21st December and keep it going until the 27th December.

Look forward to seeing what you throw at me!

Happy Crimbo

Marc x

Couldn't fir this one in the comment box for Elly. Her prompt was "Killing With Kindness"



She answered the front door.
"Someone just walk over your grave?"

"What the hell-? But - But, I threw a flower on your coffin this morning you bastard!"

"I know. It bounced off... Like a rubber cheque"

"Who on earth did we put in the soil then?"

"Search me, I wasn't there. You gonna invite me in?"

She turned and went back inside. He followed her into the lounge. He studied the peeling wallpaper and damp under the windows. She was stood at her hostess' trolley where sat bottles of spirits with no such signs of mildewed age. She mixed herself a tequila sunset, as her hand fumbled over the order. "Hair of the dog..."

"Drowning your sorrows... or toasting mine?"

"Look. I’m not even interested in how you faked your own funeral. Cos you sure as hell aren’t gonna be sympathetic to how I survived these past twenty years you've been banged up"

"Twenty-two"

She slumped down into the sagging nap of the armchair. Some liquid spilled over the rim of the glass and stained her dress. She didn't seem even to notice it. He strode over to her and bent down to inspect the stain. "I think that's beginning to burn a hole"

She raised her glass in mock toast. "You gonna buy me a new one then? With your ill-gotten gains?"

"Setting up my escape cost me every penny I had". He walked back over and parted the curtain with the flat of his hand and gazed out. He let the curtains flop back. He moved over to the mantlepiece and picked up a coloured glass figurine. He held it up to the light and revolved it around in its dim corona. The smoked glass was too opaque to admit the light through it. She coughed. He spun round to regard that she was trying to light a cigarette. Her hand was trembling. He grasped it with his and steadied the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. He flicked the lid back down releasing her hand. Her fingers went straight up to cradle her temple. He flicked away a loose tress perilously close to the cigarette tip. She took a drag and exhaled loudly.

"Some of your clobber is still upstairs if you need a change of clothes"

"Thanks"

"Look like you haven't put on a pound in all that time. Should still fit"

"Expect they'll be moth eaten by now"

"Only kept them so they'd have something to bury you in. I should have twigged when no one came calling". She dabbed at a leaf of tobacco on her tongue but couldn't locate it. He lobbed the figurine into the fireplace. The glass smashed leadenly against the grate.

"You can have a bath as well if you want to"

"You come and join me? I don't mean- Just come and chat"

She shook her head as she exhaled, jagging the smoke as if she was casting a smokescreen to efface herself. " She drained her glass and held it up and waggled it. "Couldn't mix me another one?"

He took the glass and mixed the ingredients. He bent down to study the sunrise taking shape. Its colours were dulled by the scratches in the glass. He handed it to her and returned to study the trolley. "Knock yourself out. When in Rome-ford and all that!" She giggled and lost herself further in the depression of her chair. She resurfaced to wipe a dribble of tequila from her chin. He pirouetted away from the trolley and walked over to the sofa. There was a magazine on the cushion. He lifted it up to inspect the title.

"'Style' magazine?" He cast his gaze around the careworn room.

"Whatever you do, you gotta do it with style. That’s what you always taught me"

"So I see"

"Yeah, well takes a bleedin’ budget to have style"

"Always got to be in there with the last word"

"Get to have the first one too when you’re living on your own"

"See? Doing it -"

"But -"

He placed a finger over her lips. Her top lip moved to enfold the tip of his finger. He tapped against her teeth for release. She complied. He went and sat down on the sofa. With difficulty she raised herself from her chair and almost fell back into its maw. She shuffled over to the trolley. She picked up one of the bottles and tipped it upside down. "Shit. We're out of syrup". A thick dribble of liquid finally ended its slow slither down the bottle's neck and plopped to the floor. She staggered back to her armchair and fell into it face first. She didn't respond to his queries whether she was okay or not. He rose from the sofa and flipped her round in her chair. Then he left the lounge and started rooting around in the drawers of the kitchen. When he'd located what he was after, he returned back the lounge, now reverberating to her thick snores. He pulled down her sweat pants. He yawned her panties down just to expose her thatch. He worked off her wedding ring and then carefully applied the glue's nozzle to coat the white gold in adhesive. Then he sunk to his haunches and precisely gaped her open with his fingers. "Still moist... still fermenting havoc after all these years". He inserted the ring. "This ought to have served as a chastity belt first time round"

He stood back upright and leaned over for a cushion from the sofa. The oblivion she was in, she wouldn't feel a thing. He would grant her that kindness at least.

9 comments:

Hawksword said...

"Opportunity Knocks"

What can you do with an optimistic up-beat prompt, Mr Nash?

Sulci Collective said...

Her
Advent
perforated
portals
Yuletide
calendar
heralded
rum
infused
soft
toothsome
mocha
alternatively
strawberry
truffle
or
divine
edible
nougat
it's
simply
endless
selection
praline
and
raspberry
ripple
ornate
walnut
homemade
apricot
whirl
Knock, knocking on heavenly doors, to reveal a surprise chocolate gift behind each. What's your fondant fancy for the day before Christmas Eve? But delayed gratification is hard to do, this isn't like Lent and making sacrifices. Will the baby Jesus visit damnation on you if you don't spread the cocoa joy out daily, instead consuming them all at once in a glorious chocolaty banquet? Going in like a police dawn raid on London's looters, battering ram to the fore? Opportunity knocks... And I don't think it's miniature foil Carol Singers doing the knocking...

jackkholt said...

How about from a news story I read this week? "Crocodile Jumps Into Swimmer's Face"

Sulci Collective said...

Only the beast's eye was above the water. It looked like a log just submerged beneath the surface. Snagged in the shallows, covered in green weed, something was definitely wrapped around its tail and dragging it downward.

There was a sudden water spout and the log disappeared in a spume of foamy liquid. When the cataract had returned to earth and the ripples had stilled, the log was now cresting the surface. All seemed peaceful as the sun spangled off the water. Suddenly the log erupted into the air as it was uppercut from underneath. The streamlined form of a man speared up into the air after it. he steepled his arms above him like an arrow as he returned back into the water, making the smallest of splashes. The log sailed serenely back down in his wake, it's air-filled body floating on the air. As the man looked up, his inflatable crocodile lilo jumped into his face. The man slapped the recalcitrant mattress, before swandiving back on to it and paddling away.

Linda said...

Happiest of Holidays to you Marc!
May Santa leave you good thoughts and great words this year. Peace...

Cindy Vaskova said...

Finally here!

Now, how about a picture? Something different.

Here it is: http://twitpic.com/bp9y6u/full

Sulci Collective said...

Here you go Cindy - great pic by the way!


Burnt Offerings

Beware Greeks bearing gifts. And pagans and barbarians unwrapping theirs. For in thrall to the supernatural, that which couldn't be seen, they were of a tendency to make things evident. Evisceration. Disembowelling. bringing to light that which is better left undisturbed inside.

The ladders and rickety scaffolding were still in place as they tribesmen were putting the finishing touches to their thatched image. A fearsome wild boar god. As with all dualities, it represented the source of their boon as the richest food obtainable in the forest. But only when hunted down by sizable and prepared force of arms. For when one was alone and caught off guard, the mighty Boar's tusks would obtain a sacrificial feast for itself.

Here was a tribute to the power of the beast. Standing so tall as to mammoth the mere human. The assemblage had taken the best part of months in order to honour the high feast day dedicated to the fructifying boar. The gods should be so pleased with their gift as to reward the clans with plenteous food in the years ahead.

But maybe the gods had wearied of the exchange. Maybe human offcuts had now jaded their porcine palates. The first clew that all was not well in the forest was when all the smaller beasts came hurtling out of the shadow of the foliage and ran past the clearing where the pig was being erected. Small in stature they may have been, but collectively their pulsing pace along the ground stirred up the sound of thunder itself. When the pig fabricators raised their gaze to the skies, they were confronted with the blue ceiling itself being eclipsed by the mass of birds having taken to the wing to flee the forest canopy where only a few minutes earlier they had been nestling. The men flinched, but caught themselves and the braces of their ladders to steady themselves and prevent themselves from hurtling to the ground.

But they had no defences from what happened next. Nothing to cling to to protect themselves. As devastating fiery rods and serrated jags erupted from the sky. Their thatch caught alight and the men were instantly consumed in flames on their perches. The belly of the pig glowed like the core of a furnace as men laying sod inside were charred to a crisp. The link between the earthbound boar and the heavenly power of thunder and lightning were not clear to the tribal chieftans sat back in their tents watching the pyre from afar. But clearly the Boar God had demanded burnt offerings for his immolations and acquired a taste for cooked meats like the humans themselves.

Elly said...

Great Idea! Happy Christmas

Please can you do me a friday flash prompted by:

Killing with Kindness

? I'll put it on my blog too!

Elly/QRG
x

Sulci Collective said...

Elly, I couldn't fit it in comment box, so have posted at bottom of original thread. Hope you like.

M x