Friday, 6 August 2010

Lily's Friday Prediction - Last Chance

Hokey Pokey. No entries apart from my own last week so this will be the last Friday Prediction unless I get five or more entries. No pressure - I know what busy scribblers we all are.

So, at 1 minute past midnight... Friday 6th August's three words/terms are:

  • Freedom
  • Jewellery Box
  • Cavernous
100 words max flash fiction written in the Comments Box below please. Do trickle in...


  1. Confined

    His loss of freedom wasn't that bad. Life in the jewelery box sized cell was structured, dependable, routine and above all, predictable. He should have known they would frown on cannibalism. Life on the outside was too limitless, too cavernous. Prison was really not at all confining, in fact he began to develop a certain affection for his cell-mate. He wasn't sure but felt there was a deliciousness about him. He'd find out for certain soon enough.

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  3. Sorry, had to resubmit - had a re-count. Right on 100, now (excluding the title)

    All that sparkles

    Having the freedom of my Grandma’s cavernous jewellery box as a child set me up for life. Some kids dress up in Mommy’s clothes; only eight, I already knew paste from the ‘real deal’. She taught me well.

    I have my own store, now. I give a good price of course. Well, they think it’s good. They don’t know the true value.

    When she died I convinced the family it was just trinkets; got to keep it, sentimental value.

    Yeah, I can get very sentimental.

    Like the other day, right around the time I held the pillow over her face.

  4. Nice Michael - don't want to be your jail mate.

    Sue, that was some realistic horror you penned there, frightening!

    Here's mine, mates:

    LAST CHANCE (sorry, Lily, that title was just too perfect for my write) - 99 words

    His cavernous eyes bore into her courage as she slinked backward on the plank. Though the deepest ocean raged just a few feet below, she was only seconds to riches.

    “You won’t survive, Claire,” he said, self-assured.

    It didn’t matter to her anymore, his tyranny—at least in death, she’d attain justice. Her hand clutched onto the jewelry box, the treasure of his ancestry, before she made her last step. A grenade fell from her other hand. Below, the waters reflected the dazzling flames that burst through the vessel, and then she swam through the cold dark of freedom.

  5. Aw, three great entries to wake up to; doing the Prediction proud. Thanks all.

    Michael - a lovely story of munching mates in the clink. Love it!

    Sue - I'd be fascinated to visit her store, but wouldn't hang around (might be wearing something she fancies). Great piece.

    Erin - a beautifully visual tale of powerful revenge. "... swam through the cold dark of freedom" - gorgeous.

    Only two to go!

  6. Michael - I suppose it might be one way to reduce overcrowding in prisons!

    Erin - love the twist at the end - triple whammy: she gets her freedom, get's rid of her past and seems destined to have a 'glittering' future!

  7. Hey, Lily. I've been out of the loop for a few weeks but I'm just getting back to normal. Below is my effort.

    Michael, Sue & Erin - Great writes by the three of you.

    The Box.

    For my freedom, they’d taken my wife’s jewellery box. A beautiful box, decorated with tiny shells we’d collected on a beach a month or so before her death.

    Her killers had returned, shouting in broken English about a memory stick and had then left with the box.

    Marie was a beautiful woman, too beautiful for the work she carried out. Her love of explosives had cost her her life but had saved mine.

    Inside the box was a tiny ballerina. Marie had rigged the box to explode on her third pirouette. The explosion left a cavernous hole in the road.


    Have a great weekend, Lily.

  8. Wow - David, that's a dark but poignant tale of revenge. Excellent as always!

    So, Lily - are we going to get just one more story and save your Friday Prediction slot....?

  9. Nice addition, David! Loved the use of the ballerina and the explosion.

  10. Mr Barber, welcome back. Long time no see. Fab flash, thank you. Always something sinister about those ballerina music boxes; you took it to another level. Superb.

    Sue - I know; I've gotta do it myself - whether it's me that takes it to the five, or someone else. Either way, I'll be back.

    Thanks all for saving The Prediction. :-)

  11. Here we go. Come as you are...

    Kurt looked freedom in the eye. The gun he’d said he didn’t have swung in his fingers. He was so tired; the heroin went nowhere.

    A scream from the baby opened the blondness of his long, long lashes - surprising him; he’d thought himself awake, sober. What life was this? He turned to face his wife, wasted on the bed beside him. Reaching over to her mother’s jewellery box he plucked out the last of their stash and hurried it into his veins.

    Downstairs, in the cavernous garage, Kurt Cobain shot his life away.

    Me? I remember. I still cry.

  12. Here's my own stab. It actually worked out miraculously that the words combined to let me write a 100 word "teaser" for a much longer story ... and here we go:

    Postage due, Pandora

    Katie looked closely at the tasselled, powder-blue jewellery box; a present from her ex-boyfriend Stephen - at least that's what the card said.

    Below his anally-retentive tiny signature had been a single additional phrase, "There is nothing in this box, remember that."

    Katie wondered why, if the box was truly empty, it should feel so heavy, but there was only one way to find out.

    Lifting one of the ornate golden tassels, Katie opened the box. The insides were cavernous, and stretched out to forever.

    From somewhere deep inside the box, came a tiny, rasping voice,


    Fucking Stephen ...

  13. Lily,

    Beautiful piece.

    I still remember that day, and how pissed I still get at the selfishness of suicides.

    David - nicely turned noir. Love the wife's revenge.

    Erin - you packed that action as tight at the grenade that ended it .. awesome

    Sue - That story was like a sweet bite of chocolate laced with sulfuric acid. Loved it.

    Michael - cannibalism amongst inmates - justice or "cruel and unusual" ... too close to call on that one.

  14. Thanks Chris for a fascinating entry. Can't wait to read the full version - very intriguing.

    Re: mine, there's always that question of where were you when... For me, I was in France the day Kurt died and saw it on the news. I cried like a baby; what a frickin' waste. Still can't believe it.

  15. Lily - A top job. I can't remember where I was when Kurt killed himself but always remmeber thinking, "what a waste of pure talent"

    Chris - Very nice work. I'm already looking forward to the full length version.

    We saved Lily's prediction!!!

    See you next week, Lily.

  16. Hip hip hooray Henry!!

    David, you're right - you did indeed all save the Prediction. Thank you very much everyone. Back next week with another three.

  17. Glad the prediction's been saved. I would try and contribute my entry, but someone has plonked me into the middle of the, my parents.

    I'll try and write something, if I'm not too late. I'll see...

  18. Okay, I've managed to come up with something. Anyone who may/may not know that I'm working on a fairy stories, and I've been working on bits and bobs for different things, so that when it is all pieced together, it'll all make sense.

    But for now, here is a little piece following on from my last Friday's Prediction...



    That’s all Abril heard.

    Drip. Drip.

    This would have to be her home. A cavernous pit, filled with shadows and water. The Black Spiders guarded her new home; that spark of freedom she desperately wanted was slowly fading away, just like the light in her body.

    She shivered, rubbed her stomach. She knew. Her little baby had died inside her. It devastated her.

    She stared at the jewellery box Theodore had placed near her; saw the necklace Claudio gave her, inside. She anxiously wanted her prince, needed her Claudio.

    ‘I love you Claudio...’ she whispered, her light extinguishing.

  19. Great entry Pixie, desperately sad. Surely Abril's baby hasn't really died? We'll have to look out for the next instalments to find out, I guess.

    Thanks for contributing; hope to see you back next week.


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.