Friday, 18 June 2010

Lily's Friday Prediction

Interesting ones this week, they seem to hark back to darker times rather than predicting the future:
  • Lupercalia
    (Pagan Roman fertility festival held on 15th Feb)
  • Despise
  • Oligarchy
    (Government of the many by the few, often by a family group or single dynasty)
I'm quite inspired to write 100 words myself, but let me have yours - flash fiction or predictions. And we'll see what happens...


  1. I thought last weeks were hard enough, hence a no show. I see you've made it even harder this week. :-) I will try for one later.

  2. OK, this isn't great, but I couldn't resist:

    Blood would fertilise the sand and bring forth further prosperity for the ludus of Naxxus, a petty noble but still of the oligarchy that ruled this annex of Rome. For the festival of Lupercalia Naxxus had fielded his best gladiators,and they'd fought well, entertaining the throng who would shower coin down on the victor. Now only Theranix of Gaul stood over the man he'd grown to despise. Naxxus would not deny him, nor the crowd. He turned down his thumb.
    Theranix rammed home the Gladdus. The gods would be pleased, as was Naxxus and the crowd.

  3. That's a real good 'un Matt. I can hear the Centurions stamping their feet, feel the heat and taste the dust in the arena.

    Love the penultimate line :)

  4. Thanks Lily. That penultimate line sounds like something from a different genre than the one I usually write!! Mills and Boon here I come.;-)

  5. Girdled in goat-skin the god descended from his cave. Speaking through priests he called for fire.

    ‘Let commence The Feast of Lupercalia.’

    Streets ran with ecstatic panic. Man, woman, child - eyes rolling, honouring and evoking the many names of their deity.

    Ruler versus entity.
    Emperor against Faunus.

    ‘Adore me’ the leader begged, the last in line of Rome’s dynastic oligarchy. He turned to his captain in dread. The man whispered through metal.

    ‘We despise you.’

    The spilt blood hit the cold February ground. Lupercus stood back, satisfied. The worshippers drank his praises. Their harvest would be plentiful this year.


Lily Childs is a writer of horror, esoteric, mystery and chilling fiction.

If you see her dancing outside in a thunder storm - don't try to bring her in. She's safe.