Flash! Friday #21

OK, so this week the challenge is this gorgeous pic of blue skies, fresh green leaves and a ladder going to . . . .

But this week, the lovely Rebekah Postupak has set the word limit at 100 words exactly!!!! A 100 words!!! Impossible!! Well I love a challenge and despite the rewrites, chopping and editing, I have come up with exactly 100 words. I hope you enjoy this very short tale and if you do, then hop over to http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ for more amazing stories and yes, only 100 words. xx  

Forbidden Ladder

Finch had enough of apple picking from the bountiful trees in the King’s orchard. Yearning for adventure, he decided to climb the forbidden ladder.  

Boldly touching a wooden rung, he immediately felt like he was being stung by a swarm of bees. But he couldn’t let go. His eyes widened in horror as his fingers changed in front of him, forming into branches with twigs and leaves; slowly spreading up towards his shoulders, his chest tightening as the transformation was nearing completion.

Now Finch knew where the King’s bountiful trees came from as he became part of the orchard forever.

100

Thursday Threads It's Standard Procedure

Thursday Threads time hosted by Siobhan Muir over at The Weird, the Wild and the Wicked. This week's prompt is "It's standard procedure" which must appear somewhere in the story of between 100 and 250 words. After the high of last week's Honorable Mention for my Thursday-threads-not-even-once. tale, I have come back down to earth and written this piece. I hope you enjoy. xxx  

PS I was tempted to call this piece Guns and Roses but that name is already taken.  x

  

Scent of Life

Melissa eyed her weapon, slowly running her hand along its length; her delicate polished fingers at odds with the bulky, powerful semi automatic. Just because her job as a beautician was redundant, it didn't mean she had to stop taking care of herself, after all she was human. 

Her training over, Melissa hugged her weapon close as she ventured out into the darkness of the new world.

 A thick fog dressed the city like a sinister cloak, muffling the groans of the dying and the distinctive moans of the undead as they feasted. Her breathing was deep and quick, her finger firm on the trigger, her step confident as she whipped her head from left to right at the slightest movement; a rustle of paper, the clanking of a rolling bottle.

“Hey Barbie, you have enough perfume on tonight?” whispered Brad walking next to Melissa.“It’s getting right up my nose.” 

“Better the scent of flowers than rotting flesh” Melissa retorted just as one of their unit threw up; either from the putrid flesh or from the brutality of their situation. She handed Brad her precious bottle and he started spraying it liberally much to the consternation of the unit.

“Stop moaning. It’s standard procedure now” Brad quipped rather preferring the subtle fragrance of flowers to that of death that had permeated his nostrils since the apocalypse began six weeks ago. And flowers reminded him of a world where life lived free . . . . . . . . . and there was nothing wrong with that.

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5 Sentence Fiction Angles.

The surrounding sounds and activity were blocked from Carl’s mind as he stood alone, his breathing deep but controlled; the challenge ahead looking like an impossible stunt as he gauged the steepness. He flexed his fingers, the only movement betraying he wasn’t an urban statue.

 It was his moment, he tipped his foot.    

He sped down the half pipe, gathering speed at each turn until he knew it was now time; never about giving up, never about failing.

Gracefully flying through the air, Carl became one with his skateboard as he completed a full 360 before landing beautifully, and it was then the cheering of the crowd met his ears; he had succeeded and his broad grin was the measure of his triumph.   

For more 5 sentence fiction, please visit http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-angles/ and read all the fab stories and see their takes on the prompt. x 

Flash! Friday #20

Flash Friday is here; doesn't the week fly? And this week Rebekah Postupak has given us a humorous  prompt which reminds me of the greeting cards you can buy now with a witty phrase. Quite tricky to write humour but a relief after all the dark flash fictions I have written this past week or two. I hope you like this and it tickles your funny bone.  And if you want to read the other entries from fab writers, then please visit http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ at your leisure. xxx  

Oops

“It wasn’t messy, just a few drinkies Bertie.”

“A few drinkies! In a speakeasy! In the prohibition!” Bertie’s vain throbbed on the side of his head as he paced up and down in frustration.

“Darling, there wouldn't be speakeasies if it wasn’t for prohibition. Honestly, Bertie.  Have you been sniffing the cooking sherry again?”

“No I have not! Now look here Elsie. As the man of the house and your husband, I forbid you to enter these premises again.”

“Oh Bertie. Stop being such a stick in the mud. Now calm yourself before you keel over and I become a woman of means and buy a speakeasy.”

“Now” Bertie began, having taken a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Father thinks you need something to occupy yourself. I've invited the sobriety ladies for morning coffee. I think you can learn from them. Drinking is ruining the City and I don’t have to remind you that our lively hood rests in the City. That goes bust, we go with it.” Elsie sat, pondering his words. Not liking them but understanding her position and finally agreed with a silent nod.

The butler walked in with the guests and the morning newspapers.

 “Bertie, there’s something you need to know darling.”

“Mmm” replied Bertie, flicking through the paper. “What the blazes!” The vain in his head was popping.

“Ah, you found it. Sorry.”

“Sorry!” he spluttered. “I don’t expect to see my wife in a state of undress in the papers!” A gasp emitted from the ladies and one needed smelling salts as Bertie threw the paper to the floor, exposing Elsie’s milky white breasts.  She picked it up with interest.

“I think this might catch on Bertie; brings a whole new meaning to keeping abreast with the news.”

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Thursday Threads 'Not Even Once'

             

 This story won an Honorable Mention from the lovely purplequeen Miranda Kate.  


          Thursday Threads time hosted by Siobhan Muir over at The Weird, The Wonderful & The Wicked.
This week's prompt is the phrase "not even once" which must appear withing the story of no more that 250 words. This is my attempt. xxx


Insatiable

Kieran stood in the shadows, above the streets as darkness swamped the city bringing with it a dense, creeping fog. This was the time filled with murderous intent causing grim violence among the unsuspecting innocent. He watched, ready to intercept. It wouldn't be long before a victim made himself or herself willing to the predator that needed to feed the urge, sustain the feeling of power and by doing so accept who he was.

 It was harder now than in the earlier days as the gruesome remains reminded people that night time was no time to be wandering the city. The gas lighting provided little light and gave the fog an eerie glow as it lay heavy like a blanket to protect the monster who unleashed such brutality without conscience.

 Kieran’s senses were alerted. He watched closely, peering through the fog, his hearing picking out the footsteps; a drunk stumbling home after spending all his wages in the local inn, reeking of gin. A prime target on such a night for the inhuman predator.

 There was no time to scream as the drunk hit the pavement with such force, his head split like a ripe melon; the limpness making the job easier as the predator devoured, trying to feed his insatiable appetite, not even once entertaining the thought of capture.

 It was over in seconds. Kieran wiped his mouth and with one spring was back on the roof tops waiting for his next victim to wander into his path.

249 (excluding title)

DFQWBS Together

Miranda, Rebekah and Laura have come up with the best idea for a bridal shower EVER! A chance to write a short story based on The Proposal, The Wedding or The Honeymoon. I bet this is one present Kate and Will's didn't receive. But our fabulous bride and her Hubby Anna and Michael  are lucky enough to have the chance to enjoy all the romance, glitz and maybe the odd dark tale that is to be bestowed upon them from all us little writers in the  Dark Fairy Queen Writerly Bridal Shower - DFQWBS. Here is my offering. I have to say that I spent many a sleepless night trying to think of something magical and fairy tale-ish but it turned out an epic fail. Sorry.  One day I will venture into the land of goblins, witches and dragons -ooh exciting! But for now you have Kian and Gemma to tell a tale of a romantic wedding in a style I have never written in before. . . .        

Title - Together

Author- Lizzie Koch

eBook- Yes 

“It’s our wedding tomorrow” Kian whispers softly. He holds Gemma’s hand, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb.

“You’ll be waiting nervously, wondering whether I’m late or not turning up.  Mark gives you a pep talk. I bet you have a few beers beforehand too.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause as Kian glances out of the window.

“Tell me what your thoughts are when you see me.”

“I’m the luckiest guy alive as you walk, no glide towards me, grinning like crazy and stopping yourself from waving madly at your friends.” He chuckles. “And then you look at me and my nerves vanish.”

“And my heart quickens, the closer I get to you. I smell your aftershave. You look so gorgeous; I just want you all to myself. I tell you how much lilac does suit you even though you argued with me for months about the colour.”

“Not sure about the lilac but I’d marry you naked if it meant you’d be mine.” He grins cheekily.

“Not sure about the Vicar naked.” They share a stifled laugh.

“I’m not too fussed about the hymns, I just move my mouth.”

“Kian! You have to sing. It’s our wedding. It’s the law.” He looks at her wryly. “I sing and think about signing up for X factor.”

“You can’t sing” Kian reminds her after many assaults to his eardrums.

“Since when did that stop people signing up?”

“Good point.  You look lovely.” Gemma’s face creases with confusion. “Your wedding dress. It’s elegant, sophisticated and not a meringue in sight.”

“Thank you. I want to touch you. You smell delicious. I think the Vicar has been drinking though; it’s overpowering.”

“That’s me. I had a few beers, remember, panicking about the rings.”

“And then Mark steps forward with the rings. You say your lines perfectly. I can’t stop staring into your blue eyes as you say them” utters Gemma dreamily.

“I slip the ring onto your finger.” Kian slides his fingers tenderly along her wedding finger.

“You try to slip it on but my fingers are hot and swollen and you have to ram it on. I laugh and you smile and I melt again for the thousandth time.”

“Then it’s your turn and you fluff your words but you get my name right and the ring does slip on my finger, even over my knuckle.” He sounds smug but his smile is sincere but with flecks of pain.

“I keep hold of your hand, not wanting to let go, ever.” 

“Like now.” They look at each other as Gemma’s grip is tight. “I just want to devour you Gemma.”

“Now or tomorrow?” She loves how he says her name and despite their location, she wishes she could be with him now. 

“Both. I can’t wait to get you on your own after the ceremony, away from prying eyes. My wife; sounds strange but familiar.”

“Yes, but you've missed the best bit where the Vicar says what everyone waits for” Gemma teases.

“The only part we didn't need to practice.” He leans over and his lips meet hers, soft and gentle but Gemma is hungry for him, fuelled by passion; her hand running through his thick, blonde hair.” She doesn’t want to let go as it will bring her back to where she doesn’t want to be, not anymore. Kian gently pulls away from the most intense moment of his life. He sees panic in Gemma’s eyes.   

“Shame we can’t become members of the Mile High Club.” He winks and Gemma’s tummy flips. She loves the wink.

“Do you think they’ll let us?”  Kian looks out of the window and grips Gemma’s hand.

“There’s no time. I love you Gemma and always will.”

“I love you” whimpers Gemma.

The air hostess shouts to brace for impact as Gemma and Kian crunch over their knees, hands held tight, life jackets on as the middle of the Indian Ocean looms at frightening speed.  

“Look, my wedding dress” cries Gemma, wanting to reach it.

“You can’t Gemma. We didn't make it.” He’s still clutching her hand as they hover over the wreckage. “But we’ll be together for eternity; you and me, riding the stars.” 

699  

Wedding Toast - Congratulations to you both. Here's to a wonderful life full of laughter, happiness, stories and shenanigans. Lots of Love Lizzie. xxx 

Website- http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter-  @Lizzie_Loodles

Flash! Friday #19

Here's my entry for this week's picture prompt. It's a rather dark tale so won't be entering it into the bridal shower; I'll leave that one for a much happier story of celebration. This story asks the question . . . .how far would you go for the perfect wedding? xx

A Perfect Wedding 

Angelina looked at the photo. It didn't look like she was running for her life but it was the best she could do with high heels sinking into sodden grass. She knew this was the last picture taken and if the photographer had survived, he would have captured her scrambling from her shoes to run faster from the slaughter and screams. She remembered how the wet grass felt cold against her feet as she sped into the nearby woods, wishing she had her shoes to protect her soft flesh from the rough forest floor.

Her dress caught on the protruding branches, snagging and tearing, scratching. But Angelina didn't stop running. Not until there was no screaming. No sound of crunching. No sound of snarling. Not until a safe distance was between her and the carnage did she slump at the foot of a moss covered trunk.

Chastising herself first, Angelina couldn’t believe she had been talked into having her wedding in such a public place, like everything was normal and perfect. It wasn’t. Not in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. And now everyone was dead.  She gasped. Not everyone was dead; Julian, her fiancé who hadn't showed. He was somewhere. The thought he had survived warmed her chilled bones. She needed to get to him, even though he hadn't turned up on his wedding day to marry her. The anger soon dispersed when the attack happened as she fled for her life but now it was creeping back. Thoughts of him abandoning her on their wedding day filled her with rage as she slipped into a restless sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep but now the forest was pitch and she was stiff with cold and her mouth dry with thirst. A snapping twig told her she wasn’t alone but Angelina couldn’t see anything; all she could do was stay still and hope they couldn’t smell her. A voice whispered her name.

“Julian” Angelina whispered, not recognising her own hoarse voice.

“Angelina!” Julian ran towards her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, silent, in each other’s arms for what seemed a long time before Julian helped her up off the floor.

“You were going to marry me?” Angelina noticed Julian was wearing his wedding suit.

“Of course. I’m just relieved you got out of there.”

“You drummed in to me what to do if there was an attack. You said to get outside as soon as possible and run. I did.”

“Good girl. And now you get to have the perfect wedding you want with no interference from anyone.” His words hung in the air and Angelina knew their families hadn't made it. A conversation she had dismissed flooded her mind; Julian moaning about losing control of their wedding and questioning how far people would go to have the perfect wedding? “I’d do anything for you baby.”

The photo lay crumpled on the floor with her wedding ring.

499

Apologies for the dark tale; that's what I got from the picture and humour has failed me this week. For other tales that (hopefully) celebrate marriage please go to http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ hosted by Rebekah Postupak. xxx

5 Sentence Fiction Fiction Words

Lauren stared at the page, trying to follow the story as her classmates read aloud but dreading her name being called next to read. She loved the words and the stories they created, taking her to wonderful lands where dragons roamed, witches caused trouble and a prince won the hand of a fair princess; but these were only words she could access as an audio through the beautiful tones of someone’s carefully chosen voice.  

She loved the feel of a book but once opened was scared as the words danced a jig across the page, letters jumbling themselves up, making no sense at all. She wished the words would just stay still; long enough for her to be able to make some sense of them, read them, enjoy them and understand them without fear, ridicule or apprehension.

She turned over the page just as her classmates did, her eyes adjusting to the page as the words tumbled and jumbled again and again only for the class teacher to call her name for her turn to read aloud; words that wouldn't stop moving, words that roamed and teased, words that were unreadable to Lauren, words that were fated to remain forever a mystery, wrapped in an invisible blanket of anxiety.    

For more 5 sentence fiction, please visit http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-words/  where you can read other fab stories based on 'words' and only 5 sentences. xx 

Flash! Friday #18

My second attempt at Flash Friday, hosted by Rebekah Postupak over at http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ where you can read all the other entries. As always, there's a picture prompt which I struggled with this week. But I managed something and even some conversation which I barely do in my flashes. But I read it to Hubby and he hates it. . . . .maybe I should dump him in a pit of snakes. . . . .   

Task One

Juliet headed up the dusty hill, discarding her empty water bottle; her only obstacle now the relentless sun and her raging thirst. She rounded the craggy hill and there, shining in front of her was the silver dome of the balloon. She afforded a smile despite her cracked lips, knowing she was within reach of the prize; a map as well as her life and her nearest rival was nowhere in sight.

 Juliet stared as the balloon began to lift.  

 Vaughn!

He waved the map teasingly,  as the balloon rose, a winner’s smile spread across his face.

“Throw me a rope!” Juliet couldn’t lose, not now she was so close and death now clawing at her heels.

“And why would I do that? You tried to kill me.” Juliet ran, keeping up with Vaughn.  

“I think that’s a slight exaggeration Vaughn.”

“You left me in a pit of snakes!”

“Which were harmless.” Juliet tripped, sprawled flat out. A rope dangled tantalisingly close as Juliet grabbed for it successfully, swinging perilously above the desert.

“Maybe we should work together?” Vaughn offered as he pulled her into the basket.

“Work and relationships don’t mix dear husband” she grinned, plucking the map from his grasp as task one was now complete.

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5 Sentence Fiction Flame

  

Mia watched out of her bedroom window as she always did when she couldn’t sleep; not looking at anything in particular for it was completely dark and as her eyes adjusted, all she could see were shapes from the garden but they were familiar shapes.  The night was still and Mia clutched her teddy tight to her chest for the little warmth it had; wanting to reach for her blanket, when she saw movement in the next garden; her neighbour, Mr Browne who was so lonely since his wife had left him three weeks before.

She watched, transfixed as she saw him light a small bonfire, the flames feeding on a liquid he had poured over them, flourishing wildly, lighting up the rear of his garden like it was day.

Mia liked the way the orange flames leaped and flickered against the black curtain of night with embers drifting up into the night before petering out and she hoped Mr Browne enjoyed the comfort and warmth as much as she did.  

Her attention was drawn to what Mr Browne did next and Mia let out a muffled gasp as she squeezed her teddy to her face and saw what Mr Browne was throwing on his fire; burying herself under her blankets, Mia couldn’t rid herself of the image of Mrs Browne’s head feeding the ravenous flames. 

For more 5 sentence fiction, please visit Lillie McFerrin where you can read more entries for flame. xx