Friday, 1 October 2010

Lily's Friday Prediction

I obviously threw everyone by posting a day early last week, but David Barber still swooped in to give a great first entry, whilst Chris Allinotte introduced us to the deliciously gruesome, and ever shrinking 'Rinotte'. I dropped mine in only yesterday, if anyone wants to take a peek.

So, over to this week's with no rambling. Three quick words - which are:

  • Rubber
  • Brewery
  • Husk
Rules: 100 max flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above, posted in the comments box below. 

One last thing - would you like me to start choosing a winner? (No prizes, you greedy lot.)


  1. Missed last week but will try really hard to come up with something this week :-)

    Having you choose a winner would be cool!

  2. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with Jo!

  3. BTW, if anyone tweets, could you tweet about your entry (as it were) to the Prediction when you've posted it, pretty please? Chars. LC.

  4. Here we go ...

    No time for a cold one

    The brewery had been closed so long, it no longer smelled of sour beer. Joey liked the slightly yeasty odour that remained.

    Samantha lead Joey into a tiny office with a small cot. Joey tried to remember if he'd brought his rubber.

    "Shall we?" asked Sam.

    "Oh, yes," breathed Joey.

    "Wonderful," she replied, and grabbed him, threw him to the bed, and bit deeply into his neck. From her back, eight chitin-covered legs erupted, and flexed in the air. She moaned with pleasure as she fed. An hour later, Sam skittered out of the room, leaving only a husk behind.

  5. Ooh Chris. Arachnids and beer - what a combination! You evoked the smell of the brewery perfectly and I loved how Sam took an entire hour to drain Joey dry. Splendid stuff.

    I learned something too - I'd never heard the word 'chitin' before. Thanks for that. >>..<<

  6. The word 'chitin' is a new one for me too! Nice one, Chris.

    Here's mine:

    “Couldn’t throw a piss-up in a brewery,” Mike shook his head. “You’ve got this great building...”
    “More a husk,” Shaun interjected.
    “Well, all the better,” Mike snapped. “An empty husk of a building. In the middle of nowhere. Perfect for a rave.”
    “It’s Friday night. No time to organise it,” Shaun shrugged.
    “I’ll burn rubber, get back into town, bring a crowd back,” Mike suggested.
    Shaun shrugged, then nodded. Mike left, and Shaun smiled. Mike was so sure the party was his idea, he and his friends would never see it coming. Tonight, the old slaughterhouse would be full again.

  7. You guys had me looking "chitin" up again, just to make sure I used it right! (I did - whew)

    Great stuff Joleen - nice dialogue and a dark and devious ending.

  8. Joleen, this really had me hummin'. Reminds me of the old days. Love the creepy ending - would it become a slaughterhouse again? I think so. Yes! Great dark flash.

  9. a 'card-carrying' member of CAMRA I think I shall have to put the weary, jet-lagged grey cells to work....!

    But,Joleen and Chris have got things off to a great start - well done, chaps!

  10. Hey Sue! Welcome back. You are CAMRA woman - I expect great things ;)

  11. Just need to point out to non-UK visitors that London's 'Shepherd's Bush' isn't nearly so cool as 'Nutbush'; I think?

    Shepherd's Bush City Limits

    I’m deep, me. Yeah. Learned myself how.
    Sasha Rivaldi told me she’d have fucked me if I wasn’t so uncool. Taught me a lesson.

    Shaved-head, Levis, shades. Suck my tongue and call the cops. Smell that? Sure, I sup cans. Brewery’s makin’ its money outta me.

    Now Sasha’s slinking round my hood, man. I tossed that girl a rubber and said “Make it on your own, child.”


    That Jack’s a twat. Thinks I’m after him. Doing all that US gang accent when he used to be a little tosser from Essex. I’m lookin’ real deep. Don’t want me a husk.

  12. This has got some real flavour Lily. I can just hear the "hard boy" wannabe trying to assert himself. I can't quite puzzle out how you've used "husk" but the rest is cool as can be. Well done.

  13. Cheers Chris.

    The power is with Sasha, not Jack. Sasha doesn't want a pretty boy - cool on the outside, nothing on the inside. Jack's the husk - deluded, not understanding.

    I've known several 'Jacks' in my time (in the olden days). Right tossers. Oops, hush ma genteeel maafff!

  14. Apologies for my lateness, I actually forgot.

    Here's my attempt anyway, better late than never...

    Two Blokes.

    “I had a date last night.”

    “Who with?”

    “That bird who works down the brewery, Rebecca Husk.”

    “Oh, the one with the big…”

    “Yes, the one with the big personality.”

    “So, how did it go?”

    “Well, it was great. A couple of drinks, a curry and then it were back to hers for some slap and tickle.”

    “More food?”

    “Holy shit! I said slap and tickle. You’re thinking of bubble and squeak.”

    “Oh yeah. Well, what happened then?”

    “Well, we’re naked and she asks me if I’ve got a rubber.”

    “What, you were drawing?”

    “Jeez, two more beers please, mate.”

    Hopoe you like. For those that don't know, bubble and squeak is an englich dish made with shallow fried leftover vegetables from a roast dinner. :-)

  15. Lily - very 'gangsta'! (and easily visualised, too!)

    OK - here's my wee offering. Be kind, I'm still jet-lagged ;-) It's bang-on the 100 words - tried to get in under, but couldn't resist that last line!

    The Body In the Brewery


    Dead drunk.

    Well, dead anyway. The massive cavity in the back of his skull and the half-brick lying nearby gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘stoned’.

    The pungent air was laced with malt and yeast as husks of stray hops blew idly in the breeze like miniature tumbleweed.

    As I walked around the yard that formed this micro-brewery pondering the reason for this crime, my rubber-soled shoes slapped on the sticky residue of spilled beer.

    Could be a story in this – ‘The Body in the Brewery’.

    Sounds like a 'Miss Marple'.

    No, wait – that was the library.

  16. Ha - David! Was wondering what to rustle up for lunch - haven't had bubble and squeak for ages

    And what a wonderful name for a brewery worker!

    Glad to see the lads out for a pint again. (maybe Mr H could get them a good deal on CAMRA membership ;-p)

  17. David's got his blokes out again! Brilliant. I love all the misunderstandings - these two need their own TV show.

    Sue, jet lag obviously suits you. Loved the line '...husks of stray hops blew idly in the breeze like miniature tumbleweed.'

    Really liked this, and dammit - you got that library reference in there again!

  18. Chris - Great little story. Reminded me of that scene in "The Things when the legs came out of the severed head. Top write, mate.

    Joleen - Nice job. Great ending with lots of fine dialogue.

    Lily - I like that one. There's nothing worse than hearing white english twats talking like american gangsta's.

    Sue - Pretty good for a jet-lagged young lady. Liked it very much. Nice to see you back.

    Well done all. Thanks Lily.

  19. Hi Lil,
    Not read the rules, but will have a go at these three words now, off the top of me head.

    DC Picksmith stared across the desk at the fuckwit before him. "Well...?"

    "I dun't know nuffin about no rubbery, guv... honust."

    The solicitor whispered in his client's ear, having instructed him to go 'no comment'.

    "Well, you fit the description... plus, you have a speech impediment... and the victim said she could smell alcohol on the man's breath... You been drinking on the job again, Terry?"

    "Aw, guv, you've not bun int brewery have you... speaking to me boss?"


    "I'm only a cleaner there n need the munny. Whut did you husk him?"

    "Can't say."

    "But am no pussin rubber, guv!"

    The legal rep whispered in Terry's ear again, then piped up, "My client has denied the offence and has been advised to make no further comment."

    "Okay, okay..." DC Picksmith dipped his head, sighed, eyed the brief. "One last question... why is he wearing the victim's watch then?"

    Hope this didn't run over - just a bit of fun :)
    Ps. Good stuff above BTW.

  20. See, he storms in here, breaks the rules and buggers off again. Hiya Col :)

    'Fraid the limit is 100 words, but we don't mind your extra fifty on this occasion, as those job interview rejection letters so coldly put it.

    Great piece - Love the fuckwit's stupidity. I'm guessing the baddy's accent is... Scottish, Geordie... C'mon tell me - am I close?

  21. Brummie!

    Soz about the rule break.

  22. Shit, nowhere near. What kind of a character-reader am I?

  23. Great first crack Col! Took a sec. for the dialect to make it through my Great White Northern brain, but the characters are fantastic.

    David - well done on squeezing 2 out of 3 words into one sentence. (I can't get enough of the 2 blokes)

    Sue - like the charming simplicity of murder and mystery here.


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.