Friday, 14 October 2011

Lily's Friday Prediction

She is waning, the moon - in strength but not in beauty as she stares through the morning sky. I proffer humble thanks, watching her quickly slip into slumber as her backdrop  turns from red to duck-egg blue. 'Twill be a crisp but sunny one today, methinks.

Winners of Last Week's Prediction
Were my Prediction words cruel last week, I wonder? I felt so. The big book didn't treat us kindly, but still you managed such diverse wonders.

My winner from last week is William Davoll with No Rest For The Weekend. Even with a little typo (Your next" ;) ) there was something so wicked about this concept, and so rampant was the carnage that I couldn't help but love it to bits or stop thinking about it. Congratulations William; I seriously think you should develop this into a full length story.

The runner-up is John Xero with the extraordinary construction Cartography of Provocation. I was truly overwhelmed at the enormity contained with 100 words. Very well done indeed.

Words for 14 October 2011

Will the big book provide sweet relief this week? Let's see...

  • Ascend (all forms acceptable - ascension, ascent etc)
  • Newspaper
  • Shrivel
Interesting. Good luck everyone.


The rules are: 100 words max flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above. Please add your entries in the Comments box below. You have the whole week until 9pm UK time on Thursday 20th October to enter.

Winner will be announced next Friday 21st October. If you can, please tweet about your entry, using the #fridayflash hashtag, and blog if you feel like it.

I'm so enjoying these longer, darker nights; my pen trembles all by itself in anticipation. And yours...?


  1. congratulations to William and John! Once again outstanding entries.
    Interesting words, Lily... will go ponder...

  2. Congrats to John Xero.
    OMG Thank you so much, I was so bowled over by the other entries I never thought No rest for the wicked stood a chance. I'm certain Alice will come back again in a fuller version, she's got some other stories to tell.

  3. Congrats William and John! Both excellent pieces.

  4. Medium Rare

    A limp-dicked, shriveled up panty-waist he was, but our business dealings inextricably linked us together.

    His face was plastered all over the newspaper, the headline screaming “Serial Killer Unmasked!!”

    His ascent and corresponding plummet was the stuff that kept Hollywood screenwriters working overtime.

    Chair and CEO of Tentronix Infosystems, he’d built a billion dollar company in two years from scratch off a $500 loan I’d given him. We were rolling in it and life was grand, or so I thought.

    When he told me he “had a taste for the ladies” how was I to know he meant barbequed?

  5. Congratulations William & John.

    Conjuring Hate

    At first, they newspapered my house. Teenaged boys unable to contain their hormones. They egged my porch, soaped my windows, and ascended to cat feces on my door. Unimaginative.

    A clear message: hoodoo, go home.

    I waited. I cleaned their spoor into labeled jars. My vows restricted my power to those in need. Hormones and fear weren't need.

    But I am sly. I promenaded through their haunts. They beat me.

    That night, I prepared effigies, newspaper body tied with cat gut containing my coagulated blood, and their DNA, their hormones. I salted rooster testicles placed in the groins. They shriveled.

  6. Michael, You had me at your frist sentence! Tasty ending. Glad to see you back.

    Aidan, I love your language in this. I find revenge stories difficult to write without clichés, but you did it and I enjoyed it.

    The End of the Route

    The night crawled from the hills like long-legged spiders and creeping, dark phantoms that pervaded Ruby Jo’s thoughts with unholy dread as she ascended Green Hollow Road. Shriveled vegetables rotted beneath knotty elms, and rumpled leaves curled through a brisk, October air.

    The old house squatted on the hill like a muddy toad. Ruby Jo clutched the newspaper in her shuddering hand, using her other to press the doorbell.

    Gong. Gong.

    The latch clicked, and the door rasped open.

    “Hello? Count Dreckenberg? I have your newspaper.”

    “Newspaper?” he snarled from dank, cobwebbed corners. “What century do you think I’m from!”

  7. aidan - rooster testes? ouch.

    ec- the practical always takes over!

  8. Michael, good one!
    Aidan, revenge indeed...
    Erin, oh what an ending!
    Still working on my offering... keep being distracted by things like neighbours and emails and the demands of the 'real' world to write letters (what are they???) and sort things out. I might even have to (oh don't even think of it...) go shopping later...

  9. Mankind Works in Mysterious Ways

    Never have they been this weird, thinks the Angel as he ascends through milky clouds. Flicks a speck of dust from his impeccable sleeve before entering Heaven.

    He´s immediately granted access to the Sanctuary. The Lord himself awaits him, presented today, as a nuance of red.

    ”So…?” whispers the nuance.

    The Angel clears his throat. ”Well, Mylord… I can´t really say I understand what they´re up to this time…”

    The red light swells into a painful heat and the Angel shrivels, but endures.

    ”Mylord!” he shouts and God Himself listens.

    ”I brought a newspaper, I believe the truth lies therein.”

  10. Getting in early.....just in case!

    The Beginning of the End

    November 18th 2011. 12:48 pm.

    The sun was shining, the flowers were blooming – it was the Indian summer they’d predicted.

    I found an empty park bench, sat down and read my newspaper.

    Headline: Armageddon Is Upon Us.

    “Yeah, right.”

    A woman sat opposite stared at me and then stood, clutching at her throat. Others started doing the same.

    I heard something and I looked at my paper. A tiny creature squirmed on the page. It began to shrivel and then turned into ash, blue smoke ascending from it. Thousands of the creatures were falling from the sky.

    My throat constricted.


  11. Frozen Evidence
    “It’s cold enough to shrivel your balls in there” called Sellings as he ascended the ladder from the industrial freezer unit.
    “What have we got?” Tench queried
    “It’s like an archive of missing organs; each one is frozen in a piece of newspaper bearing the story of its owner’s demise. The unit’s registered in the name of Alan Kook, no previous criminal record“
    “Isn’t he that bloke that shouts about god at Hyde Park corner? “
    “Probably, let’s go get some grub, I’m Starving”
    “What you got in your hand, Sellings?”
    “Oh, Just some Birds Eye, Peckish?”
    “Not any more!”

  12. Desperate to make sure I make the effort to comment this week. I'm off to Poland early doors tomorrow, so not sure if I'll be online again till late Thursday evening,
    but I'm loving the stories so far.

    Michael "A limp-dicked, shriveled up panty-waist" I love it, I've so got to work that into a conversation this week.
    Aidan I love how you deliver this revenge story, even made me wince at the end.
    Erin I love the descriptive language, I could perceive the rolling darkness.
    Asuqi A very clever piece I love the clever play on words "I believe the truth lies therein"
    David That's got right under my skin, I can't stop scratching.

  13. In the beat of a heart.
    It was there on my doorstep, wrapped in newspaper. Who left it? I looked up and down the street; empty. The wind howled through the blackness of the night; a voice carried in its wake whispered, ‘leave it.’ I felt something inside me shrivel as I hesitated. Don’t be stupid. Picking it up, I ascended the steps, got out my key and let myself in.

    I placed it down on the table and slowly unwrapped it. Inside, a heart lay silently beating, How can that be? and a note ‘I’m coming for you next….’

  14. Michael: great comic timing. He may be rolling in it, but the newspapers will have a field day with him too. The opening line sings.

    Erin: beautiful, beautiful images, the house squatting like a toad creates a perfect image for me.

    Asuqi: hopefully it isn't News of the World. I like the touch with nuance and then whole. Layers of little tidbits here are teasing through.

    David: Nice. I like the idea of a "descension" as opposed to the other end-of-the-world scenario. I always knew there was something about that last gasp of summer.

    William: intriguing timelessness or paradox of this piece with organs wrapped inside their own stories. I'm certainly no longer peckish.

    Helen: great to see you here. Creepy serial killer here who is so intent on the fear he creates that he notifies his victims in advance.

  15. ****************

    I read the news today oh boy. Said non-squares were sitting on squares in circles 'round Wall Street. Said the price of tea in China couldn't keep ducks in a row. Something shriveled inside. Musta been bigger fears matterin' than world matters.

    That's right. I put that newspaper down, those fears aside. They were only black and white. Me? I was after vivid colours -- took a trek to Lily Childs' joint to tuck a comment into the fray, read up what youse guys had to say. My fears re-ascended. You're all so damn gruesome good, you still scare me.

    ~ Absolutely*Kate

  16. Congratulations William, and thank you, all. =)

    Michael - Great first line, and a cracking punchline. =)

    Aidan - while I sit here with crossed legs... nasty, but they got their comeuppance, and there's the moral.

    Erin - love it, the atmosphere you build is classic horror, with the twist being a modern vampire. The imagery in the first few lines is gorgeous.

    Asuqi - Hi =) Now that is a modern parable, with a send off that truly shows how much they don't understand. The idea of God appearing as a 'nuance of red' is excellent.

    David - That's just like us, isn't it? End of the world, you say? But I haven't finished my breakfast!

    William - And now I'm glad I actually have already finished my breakfast... ;)

    Helen - hello! =) That is creepy, a still-beating heart as a calling card.

    Kate - Ha ha! Brilliant. =D

  17. Silly me... I couldn't post yesterday because I hadn't closed a bold tag properly...


    “It is done, my lord.”

    His lord? How insincere.

    He came to me for ascension. If he could genuinely conceive of fealty or obeisance he would be no good to me. He thinks he will feign subservience until I grant him his apotheosis and then be done with me. Fool.

    He waves the newspaper. The headline is his, again; they have dubbed him The Hangman of Headley. Proud fool.

    With each innocent child hanged his soul shrivels. Soon enough he will be empty and I will ride his husk... It has been too long since I walked this world.

  18. A quickie dippie in to let you know I haven't buggered off and abandoned you - I AM reading. I AM loving, loving, loving these gorgeous words and am excited to welcome new Predictioneers, Helen and Absolutely Kate.

    A ce soir...


  19. Thanks Lily and everyone for the warm welcome. A wave to those I already know, Absolutely Kate, John Xero and Aidan - looking forward to getting to know everyone else in time.

    All the stories are just fantastic and creative, great work everyone! ^_^

  20. trying to catch up with you all ...
    John Xero, cold, cold and wonderful.
    Absolutely Kate, good to meet you and this is
    sooo good!
    Helen, good to meet you! This has the potential to grow into a full length piece of work. Go do it!
    William, devious and delightful as ever, how do you do it so consistently?
    David, more intrigue ... more please.
    Asuqi, images again, which stay in the mind.
    I have a list of tasks tonight, they include writing my entry for the week ... the muse permitting, of course.

  21. Just dropping this off... Laters.

    Playgrounds to Pavements

    I want to write her out of my life, Sherilyn fucking Flacker with her gossamer voice, that solicitous grin and heart-stopping breasts and threats of ‘I’ll tell’.

    Let’s ascend the stairway of trust, shall we? Who caused the hurt; who stole the knife that cut?

    Sizzling and cruel, a girl’s girl with a posy of mascaras she’ll slice your confidence like an open throat, mop it with newspaper then spread it, red – to be read by one and all while you shrivel and die.

    Sherilyn Flacker. That used to be my name. I’m over her now. The truth is out.

  22. Well - it happened. I missed a prediction. It was getting to be a pretty good streak too! Hopefully the little bits of story popping up elsewhere in October will explain some of my absence.

    I managed to cobble a little something this time though - here 'tis (back to comment on the rest later!)

    Newspaper Hat

    On Wednesday night I made a friend
    For real this time, not just pretend.

    (She liked my newspaper hat.)

    We ascended to my moonlit home.
    A warm tiny place for me alone.

    (And my newspaper hat.)

    She yelled when she met my little cat,
    Shriveled and quiet on his mat.

    (I took off my newspaper hat.)

    Her screaming filled the empty night.
    Blood splashed up on my little light.

    (And ruined my newspaper hat.)

  23. Lily, love it, such anger revealed there.
    Chris, very funny and gory.

    OK, after several abortive efforts, this piece of non-fiction arrived, I think because tonight I did a tarot reading which seems to have been well received by someone who has not had one before. This is just as well, as I have been asked to do an evening of tarot readings next month, the feedback being so good about my evening (for a Ladies Night) which I did last November. Sometimes I need the confirmation that the readings are still on course, ie correct, before I commit myself to another evening. Last time I did 15 readings and was exhausted all weekend! So, here's the perspective on readings from a working medium.

    Facts of (mediumistic) life

    Being a medium is hard work. People dream of you giving them a reading which says their dreams will come true, handsome man, lottery win, children… they do not see the newspaper headlines of winners whose lives were destroyed by money, their minds shriveled and torn by the ever ascending mounds of begging letters.
    The truth is, mediums connect with spirit who in turn give only that which the querent needs, not what they want. There is a difference.
    The mediums are only the messengers, not the message. I know, been there a hundred times already – with more to come.

  24. What can I do but writhe in delight? Such gorgeousness here so far.

    Michael, best opening I've read for ages. Ah - barbequed woman, a delicacy for only the wealthiest gastronome. (Bleeuurgh). A splendid snapshot.

    Aidan, my heart leapt in defense of this poor man; a victim of neighbourhood yobs. And then I got it. His power, his philanthropic voodoo, his web of revenge. Rooster testicles are the only way; no noubt about it.

    Erin, loved the rambling prose of the first sentence and the mulchy stink in the scenery. A Halloween horror waiting to happen - with an hilarious contemporary, po(e)-faced twist.

    asuqi, Jesus, this is astonishing. I adore the concept of a nuance, chosen by mood. Such a terrible worry that a newspaper might inform deity of our behaviour. A fascinating write.

    David, so timely as the extraordinary heat of October recedes to bring us the freezing blast we are used to. This piece chills me to the bone; how many of us have imagined The End?

    William, and it all comes together - Tench, Sellings and Kook. And there - my very good friend - is your novel. Get it done in Poland - what else have you got to do over there ;).

    Helen, warmest greetings and welcome to The Feardom. "Leave it". We all felt that chill, knowing it would come to no good - yet who amongst us could resist that temptation to... peek. Not I. Does that mean I'm next? Scrumptious.

    Kate, absolutely divine to open the Feardom doors to you. I see you're already in. Loved the repetetive language and contradiction in the first paragraph, like fabulous Romany trickery. I hope you found the vivid colours you were seeking? We did, in your wonderful words.

    John, I owe you an apology for not responding to your tweet; so glad you got in in the end. Ooh, demon or deity? Who is to say they are any different; what determines the intent or controls the madness? The dialogue of My Lord breeds fear in this contemporary setting. I'm intrigued...

    Chris, I cannot deny it, we missed you (mourns and weeps). But now you're back with a surprise - a poem; a wicked, chilling verse narrated by a character brimming with childlike danger. I like this - a lot.

    Antonia, so very true. Nor do they understand when you suffer the death of the deceased or the disease of which you need to warn the living. They don't wring out your sodden shoulder. Only a vessel - indeed, but one who thinks, and feels - and loves.

  25. Asuqi, always a lovely piece. Excellent language and nice play on the words.

    David, that’s one newspaper with quite a headline. Too bad no one will ever get to use the coupons. Great finish!

    William, a creepy little piece you crafted. Tightly woven to a great finish.

    Helen, Excellent stuff- loved the idea of the heart still beating in the box and the note with it.

    Absolutely Kate, No one can pull off your originality! Loved your contribution, “Said the price of tea in China couldn't keep ducks in a row.” You are definitely a non-square, in neon color!

    John, that one rings with me … kind of hits home with current times. Excellent writing. Love the promise at the end—well done!

    Lily, Damn! That one bites, and I love it. The attitude, the f-bombs, the surprise POV, it’s all so perfect.

    Chris, This is like one of those eerie little rhymes I learned in school. I enjoyed the repeating of the hat and definitely the dark twist at the end. It worked well.

    Antonia, this is good—“… mediums connect with spirit who in turn give only that which the querent needs, not what they want.” It reminds me of, “Be careful what you wish for,” because the universe is not a safe, nice, fair place, and dealing with that kind of energy has got to wear one out. Better do a cleansing ritual with natural water afterwards! Thanks for sharing your world.

  26. The Climb

    It had not been love at first sight... she had just began to shrivel when he pounced on her from the lowest limbs of the old tree.. He was a rare form of ugly.. one that few had ever seen and none had admired.. fanning her with a newspaper he had offered her a piece of gum to chew.. as if they were nothing more than humans on a desert camping trip...

    "It's the only way to hide in plain view " He explained..

    Knowing that it was time.. she followed him deep into the caverns.. where their ascension began...

  27. Pblacksaw "a rare form of ugly" - great phrase. There's a really deep relationship here, in very few words.

    Antonia totally intriguing, and a little bit touching - the way you lay open a very real part of yourself in what this means to you

    Lily There's a raw edge to this that's a little different from most of your stuff - I like it. On the second or third time through, you really get the sense of self disgust, with the undertone of triumph.

    John Fantastic dark tale of master and servant, and the truth that lies beneath. Loved it.

    *Kate* I've been on a total Beatles kick recently - so your superb start sucked me right in. Love your style - and the substance too!

    Helen this strikes all the notes of a classic horror tale ala "The Monkey's Paw". Great tight writing here.

    William Atmosphere to spare, and all in dialogue. Am I missing a rhyming slang at the end? Well done, this one.

    David Super piece. The imagery is amazing, and frankly chilling. Armageddon in a rain of worm-things? Awesome. Brr.

    asuqi Exquisite imagery. And leaving which of our many foibles is to blame a mystery just makes this all the sweeter.

    Erin A great vamp tale for the season. The sense of humour is what sells this for me. (I kind of want the vamp to say "And get off my porch!"...)

    Aidan Now that is a lesson in neighbourly manners they won't soon forget. Great imagery.

    Michael Heady stuff - with a welcome black chuckle at the end. Well crafted.

  28. asuqi - brilliant though one rarely finds truth in the paper

    david - tasty scifi feel going on

    william - nice to see the genital theme carried on in the opener

    helen - i'd stick to the telly if that were in my paper

    kate - what's a party without absolut?

    john - husk riders all

    lily - after maracas i was waiting for the cucaracha..

    chris - poetic and btw, nice hat

    antonia - i have some tea leaves for you

    pblacksaw - love love love rare form of ugly..

  29. thank you for comments, people.
    Michael, I read tarot (picture cards, not conventional tarot) rather than tea leaves ... a good deal more accurate. I have done two readings already this morning ... at work no less...It's not an easy pathway but one I would not change for anything.

  30. Michael - maracas? I'd like to see those swept across your long manly lashes. ;)

    Patsy (Pblacksaw), there is so much to The Climb! I read it several times and am left with a vision of chameleon creatures, human in countenance.
    "she had just began to shrivel" - What the...? I love that!

  31. Lovely Predictioneers, I am not around until late tomorrow night so will comment when I get home. No sneaking entries in after 9pm UK time - I'll know!

    If you're interested, I'm going to meet my favourite photographer - the hugely talented Ana Isabel. See!main-portfolio. She paints fairytales with her lens and whispers images of folklore in pagan forests of gorgeousness. Follow her on Twitter @_ana_isabel

    Until tomorrow then - by pumpkin midnight.

  32. Evening all

    Have been reading the tales when I can and will endeavour to comment tomorrow evening when my mind feels more alive.

    There was enough spark in there to pen this flash for you, hope it is good enough to keep company with the delights already presented.


    She had learnt the trick as a child, using strips of newspaper to form a papier-mâché crust for her dolls. She’d lived a lot since then. This time she had flayed a sow and the strips of mucal coated skin had lain there soaking for days as she prepared the host.

    The child was carved from an ancient yew, its hollowed chest filled with a shrivelled crabapple. The strips clung eagerly to the wood as if the child were desperate to grasp at life.

    She suckled the child to her breast as she waited for the demon is ascend.

  33. Ok, brain not fully alert as last line should read: She suckled the child to her breast as she waited for the demon to ascend.

    Off to bed I think.

  34. Impressed (and still scared) wit'all of you, but ... in particularly speaking . . .

    SOUL OF SOLENDER ~ Ya grilled me @ Medium Rare title (and thanks for the Absolut pour)

    AIDAN not on the FRITZ ~ Holy shit! Where do you shop? They don't have that stuff @ WholeFoods, right?

    Oooh cool COLE ~ Erin, e'er do I love how you take a reader's mind into windows of words so laced to linger. I was there from the creepy, crawly phantom night and damn, if I didn't jump at the doorbell. Ruby Jo is a great character name. {Thanks for the neon sign!}

    asuqi ~ Nice to read ya! Celestials in a red light district? Heavens!

    Dear ol'DAVID ~ Seems like somedays you should just sit on a park bench and not even open your paper. {Thanks for nudgin' a few of us gals over here, man} {Lily still scares me - can I stand by you?}

    Na zdrowie MR DAVOLL ~ Concept of itemized demise wrappings Kooky-cool. Laughter at 'Birdseye' and 'peckish' ensued.

    Hearty HELEN ~ Soft goes your prose tabling the fear of your twisted discovery. {Wave returned Lady H!}

    HERO XERO ~ Husk riders on the storm! Heady stuff man. {and thanks for the laughter after}

    LURID LILY ~ That's some mean Maybelline that Flackers femme is packin. Your title was aces in the wind. Sizzlin' and cruel, Sherilyn and the Childs woman rules. {I curtsey dear queen to your grace welcome in such a scary joint - I'll keep my back to the wall, I will. Glad am I that wordplay knows no genre bounds.}

    CHRIS in the key of C ~ What a pretty ditty that got so gritty. Cat in da hat gots nuttin' on your rhyme time. So loved the tune I read this to in my minds'eye. {Knew you were cool 'nuff to hear my lads from Liverpool croon in my premiere. Thanks pal}

    ANTONIA Attuning ~ As an empath, your spiritual spin let well in reality of cusps well turned and interpreted. My Brava. {Appreci'kate the Welcome and look forward to sensing more of you too}

    Pblacksaw ~ Golly. From gum to climax in the woods. Now that's doublin' your pleasure. {Nice to kinda sorta meetcha}

    And Ms Lily ~ Damn, but the colours are vivid!

    Thanks for leavin' the door open a crack guys, so this Kat could wander/wonder in ~ Absolutely*Kate

  35. I've been reading these as they appear and I think they are all fantastic stories - some very talented writing going on here! Great stuff everyone. ^__^

  36. They beam out at her from the photo in the newspaper. Their bright smiles a reminder of everything lost. She spits onto the photo, thrice, then flips to the next page of the book, biting her lip in concentration.

    Ok, light the black candle, and then the circle of puke green ones (Gosh, those were hard to find!)
    Next...Oh!, ONE drop of blood. (Yick...Ouch!)
    Stick the picture in the flame...
    Watch it shrivel...the smoke ascend
    Make the deal...Great Elathan...
    Ten years I have, ten years I trade
    Both of them dead, dead, dead...
    Daddy...bloody bastard.
    Didn't even wait a year.

  37. Clean up in the Aisle of Man

    Michael sets aside the newspaper, rubs his forehead. He should have been the one with horns, with all the damage he’s done.

    Righteousness still masks his pleasure at the smiting, but he’s moved from blood and black bile to slow withering. More time to enjoy the sad attempts at repentance.

    “When your basement is littered with the corpses of cats and children, you have missed your shot at ascension.”

    “But…It wasn’t me! I would never do that!” As if Michael cannot see the soul stains.

    Given free reign, he’d shrivel them all.

    Perhaps it is time to release his brother.

  38. Michael What a last line! I guess you don't always know you you're "in bed with" when it comes to business.

    Aidan I like that he finds a way around his vows, prepaying for the enjoyment of revenge. And here I just shoot at the hoodlums with a paintball gun.

    Erin Lush imagery and great tension in this. Poor little paper girl.

    asuqi What are they up to? I must know! The Angel has more faith in newspapers than I, if he believes there is truth therein.

    David Such a pretty setting for the end of the world. I can believe it would come like that. The simplicity of the last line sells it.

    William That stole my appetite, as well. I enjoy your dialogue stories. The character relationships need no other explanation; it's all right there.

    Helen Don't you hate it when you ignore that inner voice and end up bringing internal organs into the kitchen? Such a simple note to carry such horror.

    Kate How very meta! I really like your second sentence and the cadence of this piece overall.

    John I'm glad I posted before reading! We seem to be on the same page this week. I love the dripping contempt of your overlord.

    Lily You floor me. This is so ripe with hatred that I never expected it to be directed at herself.

    Chris That crawled inside my head and asked to be played like a song. Dreadful little ditty, but persistent.

    Antonia I feel you, sister. I don't read for others, because they come with the answer they want and don't like the ones they sometimes get. And no one will read for me, because they see something they don't want to say (as if I don't know myself).

    Pblacksaw I want so much more of this. I want the before, the journey, the after.

    Phil This was so rich, visual and delightfully macabre - a perfect little slice of time in which something truly awful is prepared.

    Ravenways Beware the scorn of a daughter still in mourning! Her childlike recitation of the ritual makes her desired result even more chilling.

  39. Honeyz - I'm home!!

    Kate - you knock me out - do you want my job? Fantastic comments :0)

    Phil, deep, deep primal horror to this piece. It comes from the darkest of places and I feel as though I have witnessed something intimate. Very powerful writing - I loved it.

    ravenways, such a bitter grimoire; this girl is so angry she will spoil the magic with her vitriol. I like the mix of scene-setting description followed by internal dialogue - clever.

    Reba, SUCH a great title! And a very interesting concept with Michael bemoaning the sibling hierarchy - the fame and acclaim of his 'brother' a permanent source of annoyance. Intriguing.

    Well, I've been awake since silly o'clock so will be seeking my bed shortly, all the better to choose a winning entry in the morning. I really have no idea how I'm going to do it this week. Bonne nuit.

  40. Want to catch you all as it's my virgin week in this joint. Now that didn't sound right ... anyhow ~

    SILLY LILY ~ Nobody can do the voodoo that you do so swell ... ( but thanks! ) (And Ana Isobel's nature-photog works are phenomenal, one layer up from earth)

    Amblin' AMBLER ~ That sure ain't how I learned to create creations with paper-mache. You've gone conception mode for some horrific delivery ... this piece could well sequel (and explode).

    RAVENWAYS ~ You certainly feather in dark as your nom de plume. Dig the photo beam to the chant and flame. You stir the sensation with more than wordings. ( And those puke green wick-sticks are in aisle 8 at the Dollar Store. )

    RR KOVAR, you spanned far ~ Winged me in at "Righteousness still masks his pleasure" and I think I audibled a sigh at 'soul-stains'. Nice phrasing, devious/angelic twist. ( My thanks for the meta vibe )

    G'nite good author'folk ... have enjoyed refinding and new'finding. You guys kick it with the best. ~ Absolutely*Kate


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.