This week's words were an odd combination but everyone polished their pens and delivered short pieces of perfection. Judging obviously won't be getting any easier.
A little summary to get us in the mood...
- Sandra Davies exposes her unwilling victim's fundament, torn asunder by a churchman's vessel born to draw in a bubbling, chalky elixir in Shattering.
- Antonia Woodville sings us an unexpected Siren Song, the flautist's tunnel swearing and tearing at her hero's senses, ripping into his phobia. Nothing is as it seems.
- Thomas Pluck with the lovely name whisks us onto a nostalgic flight where men wear high-waisted trousers and talk with cool seduction, not slime in their voices in the cleverly named Cary Me Home.
- William Davoll slips a dancing creature, almost an Ouroborus between his protaganist's innocent, waiting lips as the Devil's daughter plays him a merry dance with The Serpent's Fife.
- My Stitch in Spine has a needle-phobic lover labouring over his healer's back, sweating as he ribbons her tight and waiting to tie a tidy black bow.
- RR Kovar's mythological pantheon plays with the long-serving proletariate, casually observing their actions and failures whilst flicking through the intricacies of human behaviour over time, in A Gift in Appreciation for Your Many Years of Service.
- Chris Allinotte's Nightcap traps Elizabeth and Edward in a Noel Coward nightmare, arachnid phobias sending a vague shiver through the room despite the caged creature in the corner.
- Phil Ambler shoves his slim whistle into our grateful visual space before teasing us with a big fat brass of a tuba in Innocence Lost. Ouch.
- AJ Humpage steers us through dripping gothic halls, forcing us to circumnavigate a monk's foul attempt to save souls from within Vlad's domain in the gorgeously entitled Execrate.
- Pixie J. King's executioner plays with his/her victim's senses in Arches of Sin, forcing him to wallow in the above and below before plunging him to his death.
- AidanF gets the girls' cherries as they dabble in a dangerous dance with the handy-bendy undead. Limbo keeps going, the kissing's just starting in Summer Raving.
- Vix mixes pantheons and throws us to the pleasure of the Gods and acolytes in her musical, untitled Pandemic of poetic words.
- Col Bury's Rendezvous has the reader shivering in fear and anticipation of the forthcoming encounter; fingers tremble and brows sweat as all he must do is step in to the world of people.
- Kim deals us The Hanged Man in a marked deck of tarot in Party Line. All he is, and all he will become is drip, drip, dripping into the dark-haired one's flute, for the supping therefrom.
- John Xero slips his fingers into a troubled world where musical bliss lies in tremor, awaiting the touch of a player - his notes awakening the beauty of his nemesis/muse.
I am in awe at the delights laid before us on the Feardom this week. Well done everybody. My winner is Reba Kovar for her beautiful, Escher vision of the gods playing with us like so many pawns. Congratulations Reba - I swear I have dreamt this vision.
I'll return in the morning with the new Friday Prediction; in the meantime, do sleep and dream well. May your inspiration feed you.
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