05.20.10
All must pass through the Realm of Dusk before they can reach their final destination, be that the fair Evenlands or the pits of the Abyss. All must come here, at the mercy of the Guardians as to which of the Gates will be opened to them. So came I, but here I remain though an age has surely passed in the lands of the living. Neither of the Gates will let me pass; even the Guardians cannot force me through.
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05.14.10
Brandon T Davidson Jr walked out of the Dale & Biedermann offices with a spring in his step. The merger negotiations between WestChem and PharmRX were going remarkably well – the deal was likely to be made within days and his bonus would be astronomical. This was not, however, the main cause of his good mood: that would soon be attached to his head and indistinguishable from his own hair.
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04.24.10
Well, for the first time since I started participating in #FridayFlash in September 2009, I have been unable to post a story due to time constraints.
One reason for not #fridayflashing this week was that my employer sent me, kicking and screaming, on an ITIL Foundation V3 course where I had to learn all about the IT Service Lifecycle (yes, it is as boring as it sounds). That had an exam at the end of it and hence required me to spend time studying mind-numbing nomenclature rather than writing fun things. Grrrrrr. Still, I have my revenge: I doubt I passed this exam *blows raspberry at boss*
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04.16.10
“Here’s the equipment for tonight, babe.” He placed a box at her feet. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the large gun nestled among the clothing and other items in the box, all of them black or near enough.
“Is that an AK-47?” She raised her eyebrows at him and her brow furrowed.
“Sure is, babe.” He grinned at her, but his usual charm did nothing to allay the worry in her look.
“But I haven’t ever…”
“It’s dead easy, babe. Here, I’ll show you”, he said, picking up the gun and slotting in an empty magazine. “All you need to do now is cock it like this, make sure the safety is off and pull the trigger.” He handed her the weapon; she took it, looking less worried, but he could see a little doubt still lingering in her eyes. He took hold of her by the shoulders and lowered his head so that his face was level with hers.
“It’s big money tonight, babe. You’re not going to flake out on me, are you?” Read the rest of this entry »
04.09.10
She has been walking since dusk in order to get to the wolf-lord by midnight and has now reached the final hill. Up and up she climbs, heavy-hearted but swift of foot. Up she goes, though she knows she will not be coming down again. In her place the wolf-lord will send the rain, and her people will see their crops grow again. They will once again have plenty, and more girlchildren shall be born so that the wolf-lord can carry on his own existence and fuel theirs. She tells herself that she is not afraid; it is an honour to be chosen as the wolf-lord’s feastmaiden. But as the top of the hill draws nearer and the howls get louder, her heart can’t help but skip a beat or two.
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04.02.10
The writing prompt here is: page 247 of a biography, fictional or otherwise. This is an extract of the biography of JS Tycho, noted 25th Century physicist.
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It was this, rather than his unfortunate mutation, that instilled such fear into the alien would-be conquerors of the Colony. They left almost as quickly as they had arrived, and he was declared saviour of the moons of Epsilon Eridani b. Numerous attempts were made to convince him to run for office, but he steadfastly refused.
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03.26.10
The story I was initially aiming to post for today’s #fridayflash didn’t seem to want to be finished yesterday. Instead, have something silly (well, sillier than my usual…).
It was written as an exercise for the Writers faction of the Leeds Savage Club, inspired by Edgar Allen Poe’s How to Write a Blackwood Article:
1. If you mean ‘bread and butter’, do not by any means say it outright. You may say anything and everything leading up to and around it. But if ‘bread and butter’ be your real meaning, be cautious, and never say it.
2. Every article must include a misquoted French, Latin or Greek saying, such as the use of ‘cul – de – sac’ in the article ‘The Spanish Fly who Never Stopped Dancing’ : “I put my good dancing ability down to being born with a certain cul-de-sac….”
3. The article must be, objectively and positively, absolute nonsense!
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03.19.10
“You have brought Laura’s ashes?”
“Yes,” he said, handing the urn to the witch. She lifted the lid, peered into the receptacle, then turned her stern gaze towards him.
“I must ask you to reassure me one last time – you are sure she was a pure-hearted woman?”
“She was the kindest person I have ever met,” he said, and the witch’s glare softened as she saw the love in the bereaved man’s countenance. She sighed and put down the urn.
“Fine. I will perform the spell. But you must tell no one of this.” She startled him by grabbing his shoulders and pulling his face towards her own.
“No one,” she repeated, and he nodded vigorously as a bead of sweat trickled across his temple. She didn’t let him go immediately, but continued to stare into his eyes for a few moments longer. He was relieved when she released him; he wasn’t afraid of her seeing into his soul – he had nothing to hide – but he was a little worried he might get a glimpse into hers.
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03.05.10
Rodolphus walked into the hall, his belly preceding him by a good ten inches. The annual Soulgatherers’ Banquet was in full swing, the waiters struggling to keep up with the demand for the delectable slices. His gaze swept the room until he saw the group he was looking for: Antimus, Tenemius and Tarsus – seven chins between them, three of them Tarsus’s alone. With them stood a young fellow who could only be a new recruit – he was thin as a rake. Not for much longer, thought Rodolphus with a wry smile as he wandered over to his friends.
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02.26.10
We reach the double doors at the end of the long, grey corridor and the warden ushers us in with a sombre greeting. I want a good view of the proceedings, so I stride towards the front row of seats, my wife’s hand in mine. She pulls me back gently and I see she doesn’t want to get that close; we sit down in the second row and I put my arm around her shoulder. A few more people trickle in and quietly take their seats. No one sits in the front row and only one other person sits on the second row, as far away along from us as possible. Everyone stares straight ahead, not wanting to meet anyone’s eye. At last, after what seems like an age, the correctional officers bring in the monster and march him to the front of the room.
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