Friday, 28 October 2011

Lily's Friday Prediction

So the clocks go back in the UK this weekend. That extra hour makes a huge difference. I should say that gives us an additional 60 minutes of writing but to be honest I welcome a lie in. No doubt my littl'un will decide to get up at 5am so it'll all be moot anyway.

But writing I will do. How about you?

Winners of Last Week's Prediction Challenge

The 'Stonehenge' word turned out to be somewhat limiting, I thought. But as always you rose to the challenge and came up with a plethora of different entries, all brilliant if I may say so.

My winner is Asuqi with A Profound Mistake. Mysterious and chilling this tale left a very clear and disturbing image of the child-vampire in my mind. Now I want to see the movie please. Congratulations Asuqi.

Runner-up is Aidan with his second entry, Bautastenar. Cleverly lulling us with this romantic proposal only to steal Love from humankind forever. Profound. Very well done Aidan. Enjoy your trip down under; we shall miss you!

Words for 28 October 2011

Will Halloween influence your entries this week? No obligation - but I hope you have a very enjoyable celebration. Here we go:

  • Girdle
  • Spanish
  • Ruin

Ooh - I like! 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 3rd November to enter.

Winner will be announced next Friday 4th November. If you can, please tweet about your entry, using the #fridayflash hashtag, and blog if you feel like it.

Undo those literary ribbons and release your all. I'm peekin'...



  1. Congratulations Asqui and Aidan! ^__^

  2. congratulations Asuqi, startling story and Aidan, beautifully done!

  3. Lily! You brought sunlight into my gray, rainy day! Thank you so much!

    Oh, and on a less dignified note: SQUEEE!

    Aidan: Din berättelse är fantastisk! Jag är stolt över att vara i toppen med dig =)

  4. Congrats Asuqi and Aidan both fantastic pieces.

  5. Another Day In Hell
    The women, manacled and held out in a star shape, made a girdle around the ancient ruin. Collapsed walls, tumbled doorways, wrecked drawbridge, only added to the surreal scenario. A medieval Spanish scene or something left over from the Wars of the Roses? Someone approached one of the women and, with a stroke of a machete, open her body from neck to groin. She sighed and smiled.
    It took a few moments for me to realize what had happened. She had been released.
    All the others were still in hell.
    I wondered how long I would have to be there.

  6. Dawn of the ruined Soul
    Looking out across the city he felt, a deep uncomfortable feeling, like his 24-hour girdle had expired. He knew matching his inquisitors’ drink for drink would lead to his ruin, but little did he know the depraved depth of ruin that he was capable of. The Spanish had a word for it, but “Holy Crap!” would suffice for now.
    In the dawn light of his hotel room only their shells remained, stacked inside each other like matryoshka dolls.
    His dilemma now was dispose of their husks or jump?
    A thud at the door made his decision, “Policja! Otwarcie!”
    Further Depths!

  7. Her cries sing through his mind, and places lower, as he tightens the bindings of her girdle; a beautiful horror of Spanish steel and inward pointing spikes.
    He watches, fascinated, as scarlet ribbons flow from beneath, sliding like a lover's tongue along naked, quivering hips and thighs. The device does nothing to ruin the perfection of face or figure. The flames will do that tomorrow. A rib snaps now, and more blood kisses her sweet, wicked lips. Would that he could kiss her so, but she is filth. He is but an instrument of her redemption. He is the Inquisitor.

  8. AntoniaSuch vivid pictures you've painted here, I wanted to look away but couldn't.
    Ravenways That has so got inside my head, Exquisite is the line "Would that he could kiss her so, but she is filth" It gives the sensation of heart in mouth you get from driving over a hump back bridge. Brilliant!

  9. Congratulations, Asuqi and Aidan. =)

    Antonia - A truly hellish scene. And to welcome such brutality as release...

    William - There's a feverish, hallucinatory Burroughs-esque quality to this. That's going to be one hell of a hangover...

    Ravenways - A man with a forbidden love for his work... religion so often binds men with such dilemmas... ;) Particularly noticed the same excellent line William did. =)

  10. Honey

    Spanish boys taste like honey.

    Delilah used to watch them from her window, playing football in the dust. Later, older, she dared to go out, lean against the hot, red brick and smile back beguilingly at their catcalls, fluttering inside.

    Older still and she struts for them; she paints her face, wears a girdle, stockings and heels. Each catcall steals a little more. They press her against the brickwork, cold now beneath the stars, the only fluttering the Euros they toss in her face.

    She used to love the taste of honey, but life ruins every sweet thing.

  11. Antonia: Delicious. Loved the tiny twist at the end; that she is not just a spectator.

    William: I want to read more of this. I want to know how he got to this place.

    John: As a newly diagnosed diabetic (like, last week!) there are bits here that resonate with me in ways that might be thought odd. I like that it did that. I love the tone of it...the acceptance of it. Yes, it's horrible,'s also just Tuesday, if you know what I mean.

  12. Last Days

    Footprints in the sand.

    A blood red disc hovered just above the horizon, girdled the landscape with a warm, ruddy glow.

    The ocean remained calm and deceptive, imbued with dark malachite shadows sailing into the far distance.

    The Spanish would return. No one knew when, but those left behind knew the omens had come true, and in the fragmented jungle behind them, the life they knew had come to an abrupt end.

    Their temples lay in ruins, coloured crimson. The blood of their fathers gauged new channels through the stone and soaked the ground.

    Death stalked the shadows, waiting.


  13. The Bonfires Burn

    Baby Pumpkins coo
    ghost and goblins worry Mom
    sunset rises slow

    Photographs and boos
    Operation Halloween
    blackest ghouls rejoice

    Over and over
    vulnerable figments cry
    ogres dance with bones

    One eerie howling
    echoes the blood inclined
    Spanish ruins shudder

    scarlet girdle falls
    frowns drip from ancestor's eyes
    wall tapestries creak

    Evil seeks a host
    resting with the innocent
    sweeping holy space

    chocolate clown smile
    vicious darkness swallows whole
    Pandora cries out

    the defiled feast
    disguised behind empty eyes
    nothing pure remains

    A tassel of hay
    gripped tight in her pale hand
    soulless eyes staring

    Daylight brings no joy
    virtuous one befouled
    while the bonfires burn

    * * *

    Congratulations Asqui and Aidan on your wins.. wonderful writes from both of you.. Have a
    Boo- tiful night..

  14. Such beauty here this week. I hope to return to comment this evening; apologies for my absence - I've had a week of birthdays and frenetic editing/graphic design for a pile of projects - all marred by ill-health.

    So I'm trying my best to keep up before the candle I'm burning at both ends finally fizzles out.

    My cheeky entry below doesn't even begin to match what you've all brought to the stage this week. But when you've got an itch...

    A Fly In The Ointment

    Who could know if they would live or die? Bombs crashing indiscriminately on England’s blacked-out cities; our boys sentenced to certain death...

    For Nellie, war was good for business; desperation led to wantonness, and wantonness paid well.

    Until G.I. Jim Maginnis spoiled everything.

    “What is it?” Nell asked as he dipped his fingers into a pot.

    Jim laughed, naked except for the cap atop his head.

    “Spanish Fly. It’s an aph-ro-dis-iac”. He spelled it out as he peeled off Nell’s girdle.


    Nell spread herself before the mirror. War was over. So was she. Bloody ointment had ruined her good looks.

  15. Antonia, such extraordinary image of a girdle of women. I felt they were the ribbons, crossed through the hooks and eyes. The release? That this is better than hell itself is terrifying. Really powerful, a superb write.

    William, a seething and sordid world of depravity with your narrator knowing it could only come to no good. Did he? Didn't he? Will he escape? I'd like to know more. This reminds me of a Paul D. Brazill number.

    ravenways, "a beautiful horror of Spanish steel and inward pointing spikes" - gorgeous; it's everything I would hope for and expect from your prosaic pen. And then some. I love this.

    John, you so got me with "Spanish boys taste like honey". I went to a sublime drag show last week by accident and have been camping it up ever since. Pity the poor ladies of the night; they have a job to do. Wonderful description and sadness here.

    AJ, such tragedy. Entire peoples wiped out by disease-carrying Europeans. You evoked this era perfectly and my face feels burnt by the seemingly-impossible blend of colours you have painted in so few words. Sublime.

    Patsy, an incredibly well-crafted poem that took us from sweet traditional celebration through a deepest darkness, dragging us down into possession and obsession until history stares us - dangerous - in the face. And we are lost. Excellent.

  16. Gosh, I've been so busy this week but finally a chance today to write and sneak one in before the doors shut. I've been grabbing peaks at this week's offerings when I can and hope to comment later this week; delicious as always.


    Life was fast, demanding, stressful; sucking her dry every day, continually leeching her joie de vivre.

    It was social to start with. Out after work with friends to share a Spanish rioja or two between them before stumbling home.

    Innocent days.

    The change was subtle. A bottle of wine at home alone on a Tuesday. A glass of gin, mother's ruin as her gran used to say, when she got through the door on a Wednesday.

    Now at thirty-two she looked forty-five with scarlet, cobwebbed cheeks and grey, puffy eyes. At least she was coping. She poured another drink.

  17. Eeek, too busy obviously! Missed out 'girdle' when I posted the above version. Amended and still in 100 words below. Forgive me my haste!


    Life was fast, demanding, a constraining girdle; sucking her dry every day, continually leeching her joie de vivre.

    It was social to start with. Out after work with friends to share a Spanish rioja or two between them before stumbling home.

    Innocent days.

    The change was subtle. A bottle of wine home alone on a Tuesday. A glass of gin, mother's ruin as her gran used to say, when she got through the door on a Wednesday.

    Now at thirty-two she looked forty-five with scarlet, cobwebbed cheeks and grey, puffy eyes. At least she was coping. She poured another drink.

  18. Phil, how do you do that? Hit an uncanny nerve? (Lily says as she sips her third glass of wine - but it is Thursday Prediction night - it's tradition!) There's always an excuse. Well touched on. Well observed. Well written.

  19. Yikes ... I'm on American time before the witching hour cutoff ala UK, but we can chock it up to Lily's chockfull of wondrously eerie renderings over at the Hellicious Halloween show of shows at Thrillers, Killers 'n Chillers. Been keeping me thrilled and reeled in too. Seen the likes of some of you and ME - Lily ran me today!

    {That wasn't a shameless plug, but pure gush o'excitement}

    That said . . . I came to say good stuffs 'bout youse guys great writes:

    ASUQUI and AIDAN ~ splendid deserving deep-hitting *congrats* You two evoke souls.

    ~ ~ ~

    Awesome Antonia! SO cutting edge (couldn't resist) ... release, what a reward worth longing for; what a swirl for how you period-era spoke it out.

    Daring Davoll ~ I believe "Merdea!" is holy crap phrase . . . but you beat the merdea out of your rundown of ruin. Good one sir!

    Roustabout Ravenways ~ Sex and fire ... flames endanger desire ... Last liner note power packs. The Inquisitor comes. So splendid.

    X-rated Xero ~ Touching in its tenacity to paint a brief scene that tastes like . . . honey. Brilliant swerve on the take.

    Holy Humpage! You had me from the smooth way you girdled in girdled, then painted colours in the sky and the real looming on the horizon. Smooth, solid and a spectrum of historee in between.

    Powerful Patsy of Pandora's Penmanship! So very much in images to drip the mind fantastico! A tricky treat of its own dishing out -- loved too many phrases too mention without repeating your verse, but who could resist a good chocolate clown smile?

    Lascivious Lily ~ Cheeky indeed with a title to keep UP the titillation -- Liked the picture GI Jim posed -- at attention.

    Amblin' Ambler Portrait to a crutch of a life needing leaning.

    ~ Absolutely*Kate, conjuring better-well energies Lily's health & spunk ways

  20. Should I be over-deadlined by Brit-lit time . . . in the smallest town in Connecticut, tucked into the confluence of two rivers . . . I just had to play, before your midnight. ~


    "Buenas noches mi reina."

    "Bug off. I'm on a break idiota. Can't you tell ease when you see it stretched out before you?"

    "Oh, so that's what you gals call it these days. The sigh heard round the backstage curtain was prelude to your gush of lush."

    "Make that lush tush and you'll pay homage to l'estrella I am."

    "Renown will get you places babe. Which reminds me -- hurry it up there LushTush. You're On!"

    "This damn girdle shall be the ruin of me yet," grimaced the grip, grasp and shimmy of Carlos, the Spanish drag reigning reina.

    ~ Absolutely*Kate

  21. Absolutely*Kate 'tis true we are approaching midnight on out little isle, and the Prediction closes at 9pm here! But how can I spread dampening rain on Reina?

    "gush of lush" and "the Spanish drag reigning reina" says it all. This is a 'Tacones Lejanos' of an Almodovar, and I love it.


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.