Friday, 9 March 2012

Lily's Friday Prediction

This old brain of mine is so full of holes I'm leaking all the good stuff. Better scoop it all up or I'll turn into a zombie, and I'd rather use my brain than eat others'.

Winner of Last Week's Prediction Challenge

Great to see new Predictioneers and the return of long-lost friends. This marvellous mix of writers makes for magic and mayhem - and it is so, so dark. Yum, yum. The only dilemma is how to select a winner. I've just re-read them for the 'nth time, and it is so close but...

I have two joint winners, Veronica Marie's violently emotional poem 3.A.M. battled with metaphorical addictions. Such a clever concept - I couldn't leave it alone. And Muckie Duckie's Disbursement of Sin filled my hungry veins like chocolate; totally delicious and wicked. Who wouldn't want to see those "beautiful things"? Congratulations both!

My runner-up is Anthony Cowin with The Dark Children. A highly visual terror treat that is surely waiting for the big screen. I would love to read a full story/novel of this Tony. Well done!

Words for 09 March 2012

Do you realise that the deadline for the new challenge will be The Ides of March? Might be best to get your entries in before Thursday perhaps? Here are your words, all ready to play with

  • Carousel
  • Spy
  • Joker (not 'joke')

Can't wait to see what you make of these.

Rules

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 until 9pm UK time on Thursday 15th March 2012 to enter.

The winner will be announced on Friday 16th March. If you can, please tweet about your entry, using the #fridayflash hashtag, and blog if you feel like it. Do give feedback to your fellow Predictioneers - we all appreciate it.

That carousel's music is jangling, its horses galloping in a never-ending circle. Are you up for the ride?
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222 comments:

  1. The Fairground

    He ran. The empty fairground cast menacing shadows that loomed over him, the Carousel, last week a machine of fun for him and his children, now, the horses stared menacingly at him, like daemons coming for his soul.
    Hide, he needed to hide, so his tormentor wouldn’t find him. Oh he went to the police, but they treated him like a Joker, laughing as they sent him away. So he went home, tried to pack a bag, but SHE returned unexpectedly, knife in hand.
    He Hid, panicking as her voice echoed through the Darkness ...”I spy with my little eye”

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    1. good one, Ronnie, tremendous sense of tension which is hard to create in so few words. Liked this!

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    2. Nice one, Andy. Fairgrounds have always had that macabre and horror feeling about them. Enjoyed this. (Ever read Funland by Richard Laymon? If not, you should. Fantastic!)

      Well done.

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    3. Yes indeed, menacing horses and hidden horrors, and that 'I spy' was inspired indeed.

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    4. Carnivals hold such joy and fear. I kept reading and wanted more. Soooooo what happens next. Good one.

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    5. Evil fairgrounds will do it everytime. ^__^

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    6. Great use of the carousel. I agree can't go wrong with a fairground for creepiness. Hints of Laymon in here. Nice stuff Ronnie.

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    7. A desperate nightmare, Ronnie, where the MC's sense of reality and the terror of being chased by his assailant have blurred. I don't think those kids are going to be safe with anyone. Highly evocative writing.

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    8. I don't know if he's unbalanced and imagining all this or truly being pursued - which makes me go back and read it over and over.

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    9. Like Sandra, the last line 'I spy' is the haunting piece here. Have in my mind a child's voice singing it in a lilting manner whilst 'she' carries a switchblade.

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    10. Great tension... your words evoke some truly dark images and bring rise to latent fears... one can almost 'taste' the desperation.

      Nice and dark... I like! :)

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    11. HEY RONNIE ~ Felt the running. Tasted fear. Dreaded torment. Heard the fairground's lack of defenses . . . got thoroughly creeped out with the little voice packing big impact in the singsongy 'I spy'.

      Ergo, Feardom style -- your carousel scene rocked -- but, as others indicated, could well flesh out (excuse pun) with a before and after. (I'd leave the lights on to read it. ~ Absolutely*Kate

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  2. I'm glad not to have been the one to choose a winner last week - congratulations to Veronica and Muckie Duckie and Anthony, all very worthy winners from a host of many.

    I'm continiuing what I began last week:

    The blacksmith’s wife [part 2]

    ‘Why a gag? I shall not scream?’
    Forge-lit, his silhouette spun the carousel of irons, selecting eight essential letters – no joker he, but a man who kept tight hold on what was his.
    He grunted. ‘I would save your tongue.’
    ‘Why?’ While I did not nag, our conversation ever had been minimal.
    ‘Having seen you pleasure him I would have you do the same for me.’
    Coolly, despite my inner liquidation ‘I did not take you for a spy.’
    ‘You took me for your lawful wedded husband …’
    ‘You took me before I agreed to such!’
    Malevolent, remembering, ‘I did.‘

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    1. Excellent, Sandra. Such a cool woman, in her position. Looking forward to more.

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    2. You are very good Sandra. Keep it coming lovely lady.

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    3. I love the strength and power of this woman. Whatever deeds her husband has in store she finds a chink in his anger to poke her own hot irons to his heart.

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    4. Wonderful Sandra. There is already so much going on between these two that I am completely enraptured by the story. I love this dialogue - it twists and turns, bites and shocks. Give me more! Ahum, if you would be so kind.

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    5. Thank you all for your encouraging comments, have to say I'm enjoying the writing of these.
      @ Lily, I will certainly aim to continue, but please make sure you don't call up any twentieth century words for me to impotently try to wrestle into this tale ...

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    6. Another serial storyteller,who needs the library, not I.

      Looking forward to more Sandra.

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    7. Absolutely gripping. I, too, await the next installment.

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    8. Dion Winton-Polak14 March 2012 at 19:22

      Yup, wonderfully atmospheric once again. I love the blend of hatred and eroticism, but fear for her future.

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    9. A tango of terror as these two dance around each other until......well that's beautifully left to our imagination. Or the next installment.

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    10. Cold and brutal... why he was "saving her tongue"... that bit of dialogue gave me chills!

      I love the subtle eroticism... you 'played the feather' quite well.

      Can't wait for the next installment, Sandra!

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    11. Well, well, well ~ if it isn't strong, sharp, sensual SANDRA with word irons in the fire, taking fire? What a joy to reconnect with your e'er growing style in yet another venue. Historically I read the cadence of your repartee. I sense you channeling 'she'. Veritably . . . you are in your top form dear lady. Despite the menacing tensions sizing each other's 'hot points' . . . there's a clear magnetism to discover the more.

      Clever use of carousel. Brava on all. ~ Absolutely*Kate

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  3. congratulations to MD, Veronica and Anthony for fine, fine writing! Lily, how you chose the winners I don't know... each entry had something different and oh so good to offer.
    This week's words are intriguing.

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    1. Thank you, Antonia! Yes, I don't know how Lily does it... every week... so many excellent offerings... how does she do it?

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  4. The Mistress.

    Her kiss was amazing: soft, tender lips and a gentle, probing tongue.

    I ran my hands over her skin, over her firm breasts, the nipples hard under my finger tips. My head was spinning, a carousel of ecstasy whirling around in my mind. It was magical.

    Behind the curtains stood the spy: three legs and a single eye that was recording our every move.

    From this day on I was going to be the joker. Being cheated on can change a person – forever.

    The joke was now on my philandering husband.

    I’d seduced his mistress.

    ~End~

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    1. Neat indeed David,- and the 'three legs and a single eye' an alien menace.

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    2. Thanks, Sandra. The "tree legs and a single eye" was just your run of the mill video recorder. No alien menace intended. :-)

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    3. Ooohh you naughty boy. You combined sweet revenge, lovely carnal exhibits AND a surprise twist. HA Very cool story.

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    4. good one, David, the silent spy watching all that sex, good twist.

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    5. Fine writing, cunning twist and well held back to shock. I like the idea of the lurking video camera behind the curtain being a metaphor for her husband's unfaithful behaviour. Three legs and one eye is what he would have had when he committed the deed!

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    6. Wanton debauch - brilliant! As Marietta says "lovely carnal exhibits". This is a beautifully-written seduction, with the menace of old three-legs sucking in the action with his roving,recording eye. A delicious twist to satisfy us too.

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    7. Nicely worked David. Really like that twist.

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    8. The whole thing is sensual, right down to the delight in revenge. I can just imagine her husband's reaction.

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    9. Hugely enjoyable. Something's bringing out the sauce this week, and I ain't complaining. Now, where can I get a copy of the tape?
      (ahem)

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    10. My, my, I'm a little hot under the collar here. Great work David.

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    11. Lovely bit of 'erotique noire'... I'll not go into the 'emotions' it stirred in me... hehe!

      "...a carousel of ecstasy whirling around in my mind..."

      That line conjures up so many images... sensations... and then, you bring it all home with the twist at the end...

      Perhaps revenge isn't always best served cold... that video is sure to create some heat!

      Bravo, David... Bravo!!

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    12. WooHoo! Sexy BARBER babe seduces temptress and tapes the act of the joker running wild over quivering flesh . . . You zapped me as well with the justice twistarama. What was in your tumbler when you teased this beaut out?

      ~ Absolutely*Kate ... still grinnin'

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    13. Thanks, peeps!! I have no idea where this tale came from. I was originally going for it from a blokes perspective, so my switcheroo was a wise choice.

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  5. My congratulations to Veronica, Muckie Duckie and Anthony


    Creatures Of Darkness

    A child’s laughter turns to cries. Infectious, it spreads among the patrons clinging to their wooden mounts.

    Parents shuffle closer, mesmerised by the leering rows of horses that gallop on their posts. they dare not intervene. Blurred snot faced children blend with coloured light bulb smears.

    The Carousels heart beats faster, sucking in the fear. Beneath its millstone shape, among the rat gnawed remains of toffee apples, it grinds on children’s dreams.

    It’s the joker in the pack, a creature old as sin, taking form to lure the innocent in, a spy hiding in daylight, a spider in a web.

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    1. like this, there's that brooding sense of menace that good horror writing carries. Nice one.

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    2. Shaun, this has a devilishly sinister feel that goes deeper than the blatant horror of your words. I hear the carousel music, distorted, playing in the wrong key, getting slower as the horses ride faster. A demonic delight - I loved it.

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    3. Thank you for your comments, they are most welcome

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    4. Yes very tasty and terrifying. It does take us right into the fun fair at night and leaves behind to find the lurking terrors.

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    5. So full of dread and inevitability! I was sucked in along with those parents. This is an insidious piece.

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    6. Creepy and cruel. Reminds me of a nightmare I had once.

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    7. I could feel the pace of this story increasing much as a carousel starting its rotating waltz. Lovely concept of a beast luring the children in to feed it with fear.

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    8. Dark, brooding horror... the inevitability of their fate has a sound of its own... a fear-stained dirge that echoes in the reader's head long after the last sentence is read...

      Brilliantly written, Shaun! Bravo!

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    9. ANGST OF ADAMS ~ You had me on the word 'infectious'. What a mood-metaphor your whole piece spun . . . chockfull of well-placed gruesome details to underlay the foreboding of the coding.

      Kinda surpasses superb. I read this literary, softly - to enhance each word. ~ Absolutely*Kate

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  6. Dark and dirty this, stuff of nightmare, and millstone shape an inspirational image.

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  7. Carousels are strangely frightening and you identified the why. They run on children's dreams and nightmares. Excellent concept. Truly though the parents should have wiped the kids noses before allowing them on the ride. That is just rude...HA. Great story. Does this ride have more victims?

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    1. Scary stuff, the idea that something so innocent can be so evil.

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  8. Question to Lily's minions and to Mrs. Lily herself,..what has been your experience with creating an ebook. Have you done it on your own? Did you go through a company? As creatures who truly love to write what has been your experience and what advice would you give. If too much to write send me a note at google. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed and looking for breadcrumbs to find my way.

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    1. Hi Marietta

      Yes, I self-published the two Magenta Shaman books, plus Courting Demons - a Collection of Dark Verse, and the forthcoming Cabaret of Dread: a Horror Compendium. Volume 1 (out this Friday!)

      I did it myself including the cover design, and wrote an article for the UK's Writing Magazine about it. If you join Kindle Direct Publishing they have lots of useful information and guidelines, as well as support forums. I would recommend you take time out to study everything (and take notes!) as there are quite a few processes to get your head round, but once you've done it, it all falls into place.

      Good luck - and keep writing!

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  9. I put a couple of books on Amazon, I used their Kindle programme, and uploaded the files. I had covers created already and found the process to be relatively simple and painfree. Check it out before uploading, have a read through the Kindle advice and see if you can go with it. I regularly get royalties from my booklets of 100 story ideas and all you want to know about mediums, ghosts, spirits and death. I have had just one refund requested on that one, which isn't bad.

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    1. Thank you for the guidance. I think I might jump in or fall face first. I just love to write and hope to do it everyday. I appreciate you thoughts and words. I enjoy reading your words and find you and Mrs. Lily to be a light on my walk. Hope you don't mind.

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    2. Marietta ~ With love for writing so evidently evident, you're constantly fueling your fires . . . tis but a natural progression to publish your stories. If I can sleuth out your e'mail, I'll hook you up in a few writing collectives of folks who freely share hopes, schemes, themes, techniques to dreams all along the way. One is brought to you by our dapper colleague David Barber.

      Step by stepping stone in -- the process is the journey. Oh - and kindly let me know what/where you've published, will you? ~ Absolutely*Kate, wishing *best* to your zest.

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  10. here goes:
    Riders on the storm

    The calliope plays, the carousel turns, the horses dance their way to nowhere.
    The fairground people spy on the punters, enticing them in with choice words and glittering cheap prizes.
    The joker wears his best smiling face, the one concealing the evil inside.
    She falls for it, the smiles, the glitter, the noise and the invitation. She falls for it for her life needs enriching and thus the trap is laid.
    The joker smiles when the blood runs and stains the grass.
    The sacrifice is made, the fair can move on, another successful visit - another town weathering a storm.

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    1. Well Antonia, aside from the wonderful Doors title that had me drifting into a peyote trance in itself, I just loved the bleak tease in this tale. We know what's going to happen - and it's so wicked, so evil - but we want it anyway. I am smiling within its darkness, riding bareback.

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    2. From cotton candy to blood-stained grass, you create an evocative scene. I could see her being drawn in by the spectacle, blind to what was to come.

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    3. Love the images this brings to mind Antonia,

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    4. Great stuff, riffing on the suspicion we culturally feel towards travelling folk and the willingness to be fooled by baubles and lights. Nasty.

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    5. Travelling Carnies offering daydreams and delivering nightmares. I wonder how long they have been travelling.

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    6. What a tale. The vulnerability of the chosen victim is palpable. I hope for her. Rich imagery really paints a creepy tale.

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    7. Mmmm... dark and delicious, Antonia... pardon my gluttony... I had to go back for seconds... the wicked imagery is both enticing and repulsing!

      The joker smiles... the blood runs... the sacrifice is made... the fair moves on...

      A dark, deserted carnival at night has always reminded me a bit of (to borrow from Mr King) nightmares and dreamscapes... your delightful little slice of horror only adds to my reluctance to visit another.

      Excellent wordcraft!

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    8. ANTONIA ~ I was instantly sent to *mood* by the songspun title, but sadly, Lily would not share what she was indulging with and I had to read your targeted heat cold sober. Therein lies the trance - round and round you jokered the bloody moment. I pictured 'killing fields' of one carny to one town picking up for 'next' in a quiet terror of another. ~ Absolutely*Kate

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  11. 'for her life needs enriching' - and how many of us have fallen for that in our daily teenage drabness and fear that nothing will ever change? A deeply evocative piece.

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    1. Oh a fair that collects people's souls or whatever is always scary material.
      I loved the opening sentence.

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  12. Here's my offering for this week. ^_^


    Wild Card
    The fair hummed with the chatter of people. Alice looked at the Carousel; the horses rising and dipping to the tinny music. She longed to loose herself in its rhythm, to escape. She wondered if he was still spying on her, who ever he was. She closed her eyes. The thump on her shoulder startled her. Her eyes snapped open; there was no one there, just a playing card stuck to her jumper. Her hand trembled as she peeled it off and turned it over—the Joker. Scrawled across it was the words —soon, very soon….

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    1. Such menace, Helen. I love tales of playing card murders and this is up there with them (although I suppose it could be the promise of a date, but somehow I don't think so). Really enjoyed the staccato delivery which quickened the pace. What next, I wonder?

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    2. This got my heart beating fast! I want to go deeper, to know why and who and how it all began.

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    3. Helen, Sinister goings on,I agree with RR, wold love to know more.

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    4. Horrid stuff! My stomach squirmed at the catsplay and the claustrophobia. Bravo.

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    5. Helen, this is very good. That last line gives the piece such a menace to it.

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    6. Get outta there Alice. The feeling of being observed is chilling indeed.

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    7. Dear HELEN at the fair amidst the chatter, concerned at what's the matter ~ I especially liked the touch of wanting to simply escape - lose oneself in the natural up and down and round and round movements of a carousel. So what do You think the thumper will deal out next?

      Teasing with intrigue be you.
      ~ Absolutely*Kate

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  13. Helen, this one comes with so much promise of so much more story! good one!

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  14. thank you all for the good words, thanks Lily. I was lacking inspiration: that's the time I go into my media player and choose something. Anything from Walker Bros (No Regrets) to Moody Blues (Nights In White Satin) but the cursor stopped at the Doors. So I sat and listened to one of the most evocative intros of all time and then had the unmitigated pleasure of watching The Man cavorting on stage (he could sing but hell, he was no dancer...) as well as all the wonderful moody photographs someone posted to illustrate every horror writer's favourite song, or it should be!
    'There's a killer on the road
    His mind is squirming like a toad
    If you give this man a ride
    Sweet memory will die
    Killer on the road...'

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    1. ' Like a dog without a bone,
      an actor out alone '

      Evocative stirs you well, Antonia.

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  15. Well done last week Veronica, Muckie and Tony.


    Last Exit

    Residual sounds of a carousel echoed through the darkness, playing to the creeping vines and weeds which crept across motionless, rusty rides.

    The wind whistled through broken railings, cradled by cold desolation, where shadows lurked as though to spy.

    The laughing clown at the entrance– a joker puppet – remained mute inside his broken glass box, forever silenced since 1973, when the wooden rollercoaster buckled and wrenched from the rails, ripping its fleshy load and raining bodies and torn limbs on a packed fairground.

    Beneath the rotting coaster, twenty-three spectres shuffled through the pervading silence, forever looking for the last exit.

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    1. Decades of shuffling silence far more creepy than reality - this is truly haunting

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    2. The only thing more creepy than a carnival with the lights out is an abandoned amusement park. Such vivid description and believable horror. You never disappoint.

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    3. Such beautifully desolate imagery

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    4. Chilling, bleak and affecting. Marvellously rich in imagery and evocation.

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    5. Another piece where the final line just brings so many more layers to the story. Such a sorrowful ending to a chilling piece.

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    6. There is so much sadness to the end of this atmospheric and tragic piece that I wanted to cry out. I can hear the wind and the creak of broken things, rust eating the machinery slowly away. Beautifully delivered.

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    7. This is sad rather than scary, very visual I could hear the wind whistling through those railings.

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    8. Reminds me of old tragedies told by grandparents...haunting and melancholy. What a lovely writing voice you have.

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  16. Source

    Everyone gets the answer wrong. Everyone. People simply overlook it. Everyone picks the obvious; souls, sacrifices, semen. No-one guesses where his power lies; ignoring the solution like a discarded joker in a deck of cards. The answer is so simple.

    He had this Carnie once, ran the carousel, sent down below for spying on kiddies. He took one look at him and that was enough.

    An eternity he'll spend like that, pole rammed from his mouth out his anus as the ride keeps spinning.

    So you know the answer yet? No? Well come closer, I'll whisper it to you.

    Imagination.

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    1. Jesus ...(quick look over shoulder) I think you may be right, in which case ... uh oh.

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    2. Holy cow! That is such an awful scene, and yet there's such joy in it. I'm going to have to contemplate my sins.

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    3. Delightfully vicious and vibrant. Now stay the hell away from me you scary scary man...

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    4. Phil, this is brilliant - bloody brilliant. I love the image of the pole - perv kebab. And so deserved. I want to go out and put posters up - "roll up, roll up". Sublime.

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    5. Can't get that image out of my head now, :-)

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    6. This was creepy with just the right element of scary attached to it.

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    7. I am a fan of revenge and justice. Of course they are not the same but they feel similar at times. Really edgy writing,

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  17. Eek a try

    The Agreement

    Beauchamp's gold grew from blood and cotton. His plantation no place for family. One may spy secrets the master preferred hidden.

    Therefore, Madame Beauchamp and daughter resided in the Crescent City. This eve Master Beauchamp arrived for celebrations before Lenten. The city sparkled like a carousel.

    Upstairs pristine china dolls and perfect, purple harlequins surrounded their sleeping child. Here too lurked a joker. His visage was a mask of hunger. Starving flesh covered his bones. He skittered nearer the crib.

    Beauchamp's agreement with this elemental was now due.

    "And me thinks that I shall start with you." The devil grinned.

    Marietta Miles

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    1. Such evocative words to create an atmosphere of ill-gotten gains and a double - and now-threatened - way of life. Would have said the first sentence brilliant, except that they ALL are. Look forward to reading more.

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    2. Ah, the time for payment due is such a ripe feast for horror. I love the description of the room and that we know what will happen without seeing it.

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    3. yes, there's that unspoken horror which is often worse than the spoken one!

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    4. Another tale full of relish, and horrific glee. Beautifully sketched out and gruesomely easy to picture.

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    5. Ah, the greed of men. Such a high price to pay for the comforts of wealth. Chilling read.

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    6. Marietta, this is like an original dangerous fairy tale before Disneyfication. I loved the poetry throughout; "pristine china dolls and perfect, purple harlequins" is so vivid. Disturbing, horrifying and a perfectly tight write.

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    7. Beautifully written. So elegant.

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  18. Golden Gate

    Four rows on the carousel, like great-grandpa taught. Three isn’t enough. Two is asking for trouble. Not all horses, neither. You need the stag and bear, wolf, too. Zebras spy for horses, don’t be fooled.

    Some joker said the old-fashioned carousels were too elaborate, but he meant too expensive. You pay up front, or you pay later. When the world spins and a child snags the gold ring, you’re safe. Horses don’t like that.

    Down the pier, they forgot the rings, and kids slipped away, no bears or stags or wolves to protect them. The horses are still laughing.

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    1. this is excellent, really good horror writing and then you get to the last line, which caps it all!

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    2. Ooh, I love this one. Wonderfully off-kilter with a genuine sense of half remembered folk lore filtered down the fayre folk. Fabulous.

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    3. Such a unique and wonderful piece. As Dion said, a mixture of fables and fairy tales in a beautifully dark fashion. Lovely writing.

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    4. Reba this chills my very soul. It reeks of menace, glorified by the power from static (in corporal appearance only) animals of heraldic history. It's oblique and blatant at once, and I absolutely love your style - as always.

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    5. A fascinating read. I wanted to know more.

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    6. A dark fairy tale, now I want to know how it ends!

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    7. I grin for the horses. I really liked the juxtaposition of grandpa and the uncaring cheapskates. Great story, relevant and lyrical

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    8. When the world spins and a child snags the gold ring, you’re safe. Horses don’t like that.

      Really RR, this told a story in how carousels were designed to be. Being more the happy-endings gal around here, I read it for the upholding of the old ways of true craftsmanship. If you look up Bristol, Connecticut - you'll find the Carousel Museum. Once upon my giving back to the town I grew my kiddos up in, that fine institution was one I served on the board of directors of. Your tale would do well on an engraved placque there. Oh so clever on "the zebras spy for the horses". Lovely and evocative.

      ~ Absolutely*Kate

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  19. I hear this muttered and clandestine ... and very disturbing indeed.

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  20. Misery-Go-Round.

    Discordant calliope tunes oscillated from the carousel masking the growl of the creature hiding between carvings above the ride. It sprang through the blur of harsh coloured bulbs landing on a wooden horse below. The girl turned to see it sitting behind her grinning like a joker from a pack of cards.

    “Go fish.” it screeched.

    She froze, her falling smile a row of cracked painted teeth, her head a carved block. Mothers screamed as wooden children whirled past.

    Corn-dogs and burnt popcorn drifted from the east.

    “I spy more fun at the fair.” It echoed leaping through the night.

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    1. yes, truly nasty, vivid imagery here, great stuff.

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    2. Heh heh heh, this reads like a great snippet from a horror movie in the vein of Gremlins or Creepshow.
      Cacklingly funny and nightmarish.

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    3. Congrats on last week, by the way :-D

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    4. Had to read this twice and then went 'oh'! A devilish imp trapping fun loving children. Pure terror.

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    5. A well done, good old fashioned scream. Vivid descriptions help to recall the state fair. Good one.

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    6. Oh, this is a wicked piece! It's not enough to turn them to wood, but they have to be worn and chipping. Fabulously awful imagery.

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    7. Go Fish? :-) Loved it Anthony.It conjurers a crazy image does that creature.

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  21. I may have been reading too much Edgar Allen Poe...but here goes anyway.

    The Waltz of Blades

    Awake again.

    Dizziness and Nausea. Vision blurred.

    Spinning again; pushed back against the harnesses by the whirl of the carousel. Don’t want to be awake, don’t want to see.

    Slowing down, and I spy the card images at the centre become discreet. Jack, Ten, Nine...slower and slower...

    …Two, Ace, so slow now. Praying for it to stop now but it doesn’t.

    …Joker…

    Please move. Please Keep Moving.

    …King.

    I exhale, shaking with relief.

    To my left a scream, first of fear, then of terrible pain, then silence.

    A clunk, the whine of machinery, and we start to spin once more.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Reminds me why I don't read Edgar Allen Poe.

      Delete
    2. oh my, vivid and gory and all in the mind, too!

      Delete
    3. Whoof - that's horrible. Love the machinary of death. Is there a way out or do they 'play' until everyone is 'out'?
      Nasty stuff.

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    4. Oh Matt, I am so glad Dion and I enticed you here especially after reading this. Last one survives? Visions of Brucie hosting this as a macabre Price is Right crossed with the Running Man. Great stuff.

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    5. I wonder what they did to win a seat on that torture ride? Who is running the ride? Thanks for the creepy tale.

      Delete
    6. This one got stuck in my throat, perhaps because I could be one waiting for my card to show. This is only the surface of the story; it goes so much deeper, and I both want to know and don't.

      Delete
    7. A tale to read by firelight in a cold winter room. Dark and classic.

      Delete
    8. Hello Matt, wow, fast paced, brutal and delighful

      Delete
  22. Ourobori

    How much was chance? How much design?

    We know Maggie and Ronnie fought viciously over the years, as only snakes and sisters can. During interview neither recalled how this carousel began, though their Nanny cites incidents of childhood jealousy, spying and petty thefts.

    School friends dub them mere practical jokers. No physical attacks appear on record, yet Ms Roche's testimony indicates a brutal escalation. Parental divorce eventually separated them.

    Now, the drugs were already administered: there's no way Margaret could have spoken, but the Anaesthetist swears 'her eyes were shrieking'

    The replacement mid-wife was Veronica.

    The baby's throat was crushed.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. totally agree, deeply disturbing which good horror should be!

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    2. Brooding malevolence over decades. It's the back story which builds the terror and, yet again this week, the final line delivering the final blow. Another top story.

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    3. Revenge is best served cold...Veronica Is frighteningly patient. Excellent, modern twist on traditional tale of jealousy and murderous revenge.

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    4. So very, very horrible, to be helpless while her enemy too such damnable revenge. This one may haunt my dreams.

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    5. A spanning rivalry that was always going to end in pain, but I never guessed how horrible it would be. Disturbing ending. Great stuff.

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    6. Frightening, grim detail, well done

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  23. Deeply disturbing this, makes my spine itch.

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  24. OK, Blogger's stopping me commenting on individual entries now so I'm adding the next lot collectively here:

    Tony, I feel very self-indulgent because I enjoyed Misery-Go-Round so much it felt as though you'd written it just for me - bespoke-like ;-) Terrifying, wicked horror - and a growling, demonic entity to boot. Bliss.

    Matt, no such thing as too much Poe. A superb title, and the story's of the same quality. So relentless, unending torture with teasing glimpses of relief... and then off we go again. To exhaust the reader with words alone is very, very clever.

    Dion, there's an immensely exciting story here, with layer upon layer of intrigue that screams of emotional disfunction. This needs, at the very least to be a Criminal Minds episode- but I'd go watch the movie. I'd pay double.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Oh my! Look at all these delicious little slices... room for one more?


    UNINTENTIONAL


    Harsh words… like crossed swords… swinging… slashing…

    Vanity of youth… wounded pride… lesson to be taught… from the ancient rune… dusty words spoken… he’d only meant to give a fright.

    Sadistic glee cracked the painted gloss of the ponies’ faces… the girl chased round and round the whirling carousel.

    Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, spy… stumbling, falling, sliding ‘cross the warped deck… not even Smiley could save her from this dervish hell.

    Joker stands at rainbow-hued vortex’s edge… curved blade in hand… sharpened steel singing in the night.

    Moonlight shines on rapacious delight… ivory or steel…

    Both…

    Hunger for the gashing…

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That final line reverberates ...

      Delete
    2. That is creepy as all hell. Disjointed in desperation and mad panic. Narrative voice seems both enjoying and horrified by the scene it reveals. Great stuff!

      Delete
    3. Dion Winton-Polak15 March 2012 at 07:04

      (and congratulations on last week, too)

      Delete
    4. Creepy! I really liked this sentence "Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, spy… stumbling, falling, sliding ‘cross the warped deck… not even Smiley could save her from this dervish hell."

      Delete
    5. Always room for you, Veronica Marie ;-)

      This is a gorgeous battle of the senses, fighting with despair. I love the breathlessness of the delivery and the glint of sharpened, flailing metal.

      "Hunger for the gashing…" is so delightfully wicked I may well have it tattooed on my...

      Delete
    6. Hello Veronica, each word carefully crafted and hammered home. Fine work.

      Delete
    7. The choppiness makes the whole thing gripping, like stream of consciousness madness dripping with nefarious delight.

      Delete
  26. Just a Ding Show

    On the madman's carousel, the joker grinds the gears while the spy swings in silk -- lazy, observant, bestial in her beauty.

    It will spin too fast and it isn't over until he decides, or they get bored, or something -- someone -- explodes and dies. They like that, oh yes. All the pretty colors against the pretty paints and lights.

    You don't need to buy a ticket. One's been tattooed on your soul since birth. There's no need to show the jock; blind bastard can't see through the stitches anyway. Just step up; step on. Choose your mount.

    Ride.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This last sentence sounds as if it should be set to music, played in a car without headlights, drivung blind through a forest at night.

      Delete
    2. I had a similar sensation. Couldn't quite catch a tune but it felt like some kind of rock song. Fabulously evocative, rhythmic and mythical.

      Delete
    3. I agree with Sandra and Dion on this Dawn - rhythmic, poetic, lyrical - and dark as hell.

      As well as song it almost felt like a living book-cover, so visual and evocative were your words.

      So well-written, so much colour - this has really resonated with me. Thank you - and welcome to The Feardom.

      Delete
    4. The cadence of the piece made me feel like I was spinning and this: One's been tattooed on your soul since birth. made me dizzy.

      So glad you decided to come play!

      Delete
  27. Yes, I think I hear the tinny fairground music playing! Very evocative.

    ReplyDelete
  28. My apologies if I haven't commented of every single one, time is short, but rest assured I have read them and very good they are too!

    ReplyDelete
  29. Busy week. Heavy workload and my parents are up for a week. Couldn't let my series come to a standstill, though.

    The Package, Part 8.

    We made it out of the train station and headed back to my car. Jones’s thug was a joker if he thought he was getting Venus. I was going to deliver her alive and well.

    Above the city noises, we could hear the music from the carousel that accompanied Manchester’s answer to the London Eye, the unimaginatively named The Wheel of Manchester.

    Once inside my car, Venus looked at me. “Who are you? Are you some kind of spy?”

    I turned to her, her brown eyes full of fear. “My name’s Tony Spencer. I’ve been hired to protect you.”

    ...to be continued.

    ~End~

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. There's something incredibly sinister about the sound of carousel music against the urban song of trains and traffic.

      You've gone all romantic on us this week David! But it's a good 'love interest' tease. This remains a thriller I am hanging on to with dear life. Love it.

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    2. Why yes, you did make me go back and read the entries I missed in this series. Thanks for that. And now I can't wait for more!

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    3. Nice pulpy feel to this one. Dimestore thrills and breathless chases. Keep going.

      Delete
  30. SUPER CONGRATS to daring Veronica now a regular at luscious Lady Lily's ... and ever a "YAY" to talented Muckie Duckie! Plus ... added benefit of good ol' scary nthony - Whew! Lily musta tossed and turned with pluckin' these three out for many a full mooned night.

    Before the lambent moon of this night -- I shall read then write 'pon each and every of this TREMENDOUS showdown here. WooHooo, it's so grand to be back in another of my gypsy-ramblin' homes again. Love you fine (albeit scary) FEARDOM FOLKS!

    ~ Your pal, Absolutely*Kate
    . . . sharing this one, this week:

    ReplyDelete
  31. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    STOP THIS MERRY-GO-ROUND!
    I WANTA GET OFF!

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Detective Nelle Callahan knew. Damn, down to the concealed parchment lining her teal-heeled shoe, she knew. A gal gumshoe with gumption knows unequivocally what she bloody must do.

    First, she had to get off this freaky carousel. Spinning circles never ferreted a driven direction, plus insipid carny music was cheapening her perception powers like stale Aqua Velva from a big lug who lingered too long on lilac linens. Helluva showdown for spy meets spy though - a decrepit amusement park barkering its last down-and-out dirty dollar. What kinda joker brokered this deal anyway?

    Had to be Heinous Herman.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    TO BE CONTINUED . . . in following FEARDOM's frays
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    ~ whispered Absolutely*Kate . . .
    channeling Detective Nelle Callahan

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dammit Kate, I used to date Heinous Herman and thought I'd disposed of him, gently. Now you're telling me he's still out there?

      Love the energy in this tale. It spirals through our senses with no tolerance for lackadaisical spies - as is correct. Nelle's a hell of a gal - I sure would like to make her acquaintance.

      Lovin' it.

      Delete
    2. Great voice in this. Your clever rhyme and alliteration only add to the carnival atmosphere.

      Delete
    3. You do carry us away with your rhythmic prose Kate. A unique style and a passion for language that never fails to put a smile on my face.

      Delete
  32. Alfred M. Taitague Jr15 March 2012 at 18:55

    "Choices"

    BOOM! “eveRYONE HIT THE FLOOR!” The Joker-masked robber cried as he reloaded his 12-gauge.

    “Kristan it’s a boy!” exclaimed her husband as he laid eyes on his son in the delivery room.

    “Move it! If I spy any dye-packs you’re all dead!” He roared at the sobbing cashiers.

    “What should we call you?” Kristan whispered.

    “Stupid hero.” Said the robber coldly after blasting the off-duty cop onto the children carousel playing Loony Tunes.

    “We’ll name you after your Daddy!”

    “Sure Babe,” said Detective Hero Nakamira as he turned to leave. “Want anything after I stop by the bank?”

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Why Mr Taitague, such a familiar name in our midst...?

      I love the duality of this scenario. The bank robbery vs. the birth - one stealing - one giving forth. What happens next hardly bears thinking about. Such a clever concept and an amazing achievement in so few words. Excellent.

      Delete
    2. The juxtaposition of birth and death is fabulous, even if the reality is awful. This was a roller coaster, not a carousel.

      Delete
    3. Lily Childs I have the pleasure of introducing you to my father Mr. Taitague.

      He would hear me talking about your weekly challenge so often that he had to try it out for himself. What a great - if heartbreaking - first entry.

      He may not comment often, he's visually impaired and it's hard for him to navigate around your site; especially the dreaded Captcha. So I help him out in that aspect.

      Don't you worry, we Taitagues aren't afraid of some (un)healthy competition.

      Good lord what have I just unleashed in The Feardom?

      Delete
    4. Captured the raw horror of a raid well here. 'Roared' and 'sobbing' are particularly evocative. The casual death and its impact is too awful to contemplate, yet is speaks a daily truth.
      Congratulations, and welcome to the fold.

      Delete
  33. I'm not entering this week. But oddly I seem to have written a 425-word piece that just happens to include this week's three words! Maybe I should drop it off here for your perusal anyway.

    (Yes, I know I'm a cheat. Blame Phil Ambler - he says I can break my own rules. Din'tya Phil, din'tya?)

    As the lot of you have marvelled me with what must be the best entries EVER, I've gone for a little light-hearted fiction for you instead. Humour me - I'm not gonna win, so...!


    THE PURPLE PROBE OF PECKHAM

    These days you don’t have to wait to be approached by MI5 to become a spy, you can simply apply online. Rita Fellowes knew that, and quite fancied a bit of covert activity, not to mention a dodgy dalliance.

    Suspended now beneath a rotating carousel of syringes Rita couldn’t even cry for help. The Joker, as her masked captor kept referring to himself grinned his rubber smile into her face, dribbling onto the gag at her mouth.

    “What flavour of death do you choose, traitor?”

    Rather partial to nut, Rita kicked the Joker in the balls. He screamed, a high-pitched squeal – though his expression remained unchanged. The laser secreted about Rita’s person had sizzled through the straps at her ankles and wrists, freeing her to rock off the table and grab her assailant from behind. She threw him onto the place where she had lain bound and gagged for the last ten hours, and leapt on top of him. The breath that burst through The Joker’s curling lips told a tale of coffee and garlic.

    “Gross. Think we need to do something about your flavours, sicko.”

    She spun the glistening syringes round and round until viscous drips emerged at their points.

    “Let’s see,” she said. “A different taste for every orifice. Let’s start with your eyes.”

    Rita tore the mask from her abductor’s head, ready to face her nemesis.

    “HA!! Oh. Oh dear, this is all rather disappointing.”

    “Don’t hurt me Rita. It’s only a game.”

    George Compton usually sat quietly at the Peckham Thriller Appreciation Club, reading and occasionally sneaking outside for a thin roll-up. Now, he stared up at Rita, hands clutched between his legs.

    Rita climbed off him.

    “I thought you were...”

    “Clive. I know. But I got here before you tonight and they said he wasn’t coming. I heard it was your turn to use the fantasy-room so I said, well... I said I’d step in.”

    Rita eyed old George.

    “You dirty old bugger.”

    George hung his head; he waited for Rita to storm from the room leaving him to wallow in shame. He watched her feet move, but not towards the door. Instead she reached out for the ‘carousel of death’ – really an old coat rack with broken hooks – and pushed it out of the way.

    “Here you go George.”

    To George’s surprise Rita handed the mask back to him. She nodded for him to put it on, slipping out of her knickers with a smile.

    “After all,” she said. “They don’t need to know that I know, do they?”

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ha ha ha ha, loving the kinky stuff this week, you dirty old bugger. Hope she doesn't give him a hernia...

      Delete
  34. Straight Talk

    “Who’s the boy, this joker?”

    My father’s eyes bore into mine as he shoves the camera into my hand. I flip through the pictures relieved: walking on the boardwalk, eating lunch, laughing. No! Holding hands and kissing in the shadows of a carousel.

    My anger burns the fear away. “So your cop buddies spy for you now?”

    He’s disgusted. “Think I want them seeing you like this –“

    “I’m gay Dad it’s not the end of the world.”

    Mouth hard; fists clenched. “Then I’ll have to change your mind.”

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Straight indeed - punch to the gut, not a word wasted.

      Delete
    2. Oh, hell MD. How sad is this? You've revealed what must be one version of millions of similar conversations. It breaks my heart. And you've captured the volatile fear - of the father - so well. Superb writing.

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    3. Sometimes, the best (worst? most?) horror is what we find in the real world. I know too many who've lived this scenario. You bring it out into the light, so we can shudder.

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    4. Leaves us ashen and derelict. Heartbreaking betrayal of a relationship between father and son.
      Congrats on last week, by the way.

      Delete
  35. The disused carousel suddenly sprang to life the gaudylights reflected around us, the organ music pipes out to surround us with it’s eerie tendrils of sound.

    I shivered.

    I hated this god damned place.

    Jack the Joker grabbed me

    ‘Come on yah chicken, let’s get this shitdone’

    I spy movement from the corner of my eye, a shadow movingthrough the horses.

    ‘No Jack let’s just go man, get your money tomorrow ’

    He spun around the fury contorted his face into a mask of hate.

    I feel the knife blade bite deeply in my guts

    ‘Fuck’in chicken’

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So fixated on the possible menace of a shadow, your narrator missed the death-dealer in front of him. I hope whatever he thought he saw ended up eating Jack's face. Because I believe in justice.

      Delete
    2. Horrible sense of passivity - you want to drag him out of there but the pov character won't move. Need to know more. Is this a case of bullying taken too far, a gang initiation or what?
      Dangerous and cruel beginnings Mr Roberts. What other dark notions will you bring to our table?

      Delete
  36. Been too many weeks just had to throw this in before Madame closes the shutters

    Carousel

    The guy that ran the Carousel was forever the vicious joker, especially with us naïve types. He used to tell about a Spy hole under the Carousel where you could get a good look up the ladies skirts. He never said lying underneath was stupid.

    He sold my body to the meat guy, put me to good use feeding the living.
    I never did trust the burger van.

    Now I’ve joined the army of souls that drag behind the funfair as they tour the county fairs, there’s nothing else for us to do. I never have found that spy hole.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So many small horrors in this - the awful death, the burger van, and the terrible fate of not being able to leave. That is a tightly packed story.

      Delete
    2. Cracking stuff William. The death is orrible, the humour is dark and the unhinged nature of the fair is revealed.
      Love the last line. Gives the impression that every so often the ghost goes back under, still sweatilly hoping to see up some skirts :-D

      Delete
  37. Hello there! First time submitting a story here, hope it's good enough and enjoyable enough. Leaving it in your hands now.

    Payment

    The carousel was barely turning, its lights flickering like dying fireflies; the music almost becoming a distorted sound, the melody of many broken music boxes combined into one crying symphony.

    The horses, poor wooden things butchered on posts with the paint falling off had their seats empty.

    They had been like that for ages.

    The Joker gripped tighter on his whip.

    Mr. Spy had told him the children weren’t spinning his toy fast enough. Turned out he was right.

    The Joker approached the souls, his shadow emerging upon hundred tortured little faces and he raised hand preparing to strike punishment.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This is lush with suffering and yet gorgeous in its spectacle. I like that we don't see his hand fall. Makes it so much worse.

      Delete
    2. Love the description of the horses - butchered on posts. Grisly imagary. The notion that it is the children spinning the carousel is fun in its perversity too.

      Delete
  38. Very nasty, Nick. The aggression gleams and rages through this piece and I really like how the emotions of fear and greed blend with the sudden coming to life of the carousel.

    "eerie tendrils of sound" is lovely.

    There are a few grammatical/punctuation blips in here but otherwise I enjoyed this very much.

    ReplyDelete
  39. The Prediction is now closed. I'm exhausted - but STILL William and Cindy have snuck their feet under the door, you cheeky wordsmiths.

    So - no more please. All done.

    How the effin' 'eck am I going to judge this tomorrow? (Crawls away to the cave where only pure darkness can inspire decision...)

    ReplyDelete
  40. The Two Blokes.

    “Life is a carousel old chum...”

    “Cabaret.”

    “Eh?”

    “What you’re singing, it’s cabaret. Life is a CABARET.”

    “...”

    “Never mind. What you been up to?”

    “...”

    “What’s wrong?”

    “I’m a joker, I’m a poker, I’m a midnight stoker...”

    “What are you up to? Do you know any lyrics to any song?”

    “What?”

    “You make them up as you go along.”

    “They’re right...aren’t they?”

    “Nowhere near. I’ll tell you what, let’s play a game.”

    “Yeah, OK.”

    “I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with k,
    ending with b and has no in the middle.”

    “...”

    “Jesus! Two beers please, mate!”

    ~End

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hah! Nice bit of dialogue there. The terror for me was the realisation that I recognised the lyrics to Cabaret.

      Delete
  41. Yet again Blogger's stopping me commenting individually (must be a character/time limit) but here we go, for the final two entries...

    William, I enjoyed this immensely - great fun. It's Ringo Starr in That'll Be The Day and that short Italian bloke peeking up girls' skirts under the bench in Grease, both combined into the guy running the carousel. There's a sloped-shoulder of dejection to the narrator's lot which slips into sorry acceptance with the final line. Glad you're back.

    Cindy, you are most welcome at The Feardom.

    Payment is blissfully upsetting. You have wreaked havoc with this piece of beautiful writing, as has the horrific twinning of The Joker and Mr Spy. It is bizarro horror at its most sinister, and I love it to death.

    ReplyDelete
  42. Go on then David, as it's The Two Blokes - you know I can't resist.

    And there they are talking about me new book Cabaret of Dread too! Coming out tomorrow, it is. No? Was that not the intention?

    Ha! I just love these two - and this was a cracker. Glad they came back to sully my pages.

    ReplyDelete

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.