#TuesdayTales is a 100 word challenge
Week 27
Taby1: OMG! I did it! OMGOMGOMG!
ANON: ??? WH@?
Taby1: I killed sum1!
ANON: ORLY?
Taby1: Yes!
Borgaxm: BS
ANON: Y?
Taby1: ?
ANON: Why?
Taby1: BCOS 2 join
Borgaxm: UGTBFK
ANON: WH5
Taby1: IDK SUM SK8TRGRL on the beach, piosind her 2day aftr skool
Borgaxm: 4RLZ?
Taby1: 4RLZ!!!
ANON: how does it feel?
Taby1: U4ic
Borgaxm: UNO we were kidding, right?
Taby1: Funny ;)
Borgaxm: seriously we were joking
Taby1: Thast not fnny
ANON: its tru we were joking
Taby1: STFU
ANON: U STFU BITCH. R U SO FUC|<1NG STOOPID U ACTUALLY KILLED SUM1?
Borgaxm: what a |=uc|<ing LOSER
Week 25
When the buzz to deploy finally came vibrating through the air causing the tiny scillia of his limbs to vibrate, Pilot Chrmcg*kd Fmr!]g was more than ready. His homeworld of Xm^)#tggg had been preparing for this invasion since before he was hatched. Finally, the chance to carry on his hive’s legacy of wartime service was at hand!
<i>Pilotzzz, zzztay together. No herozzz today</i>, the squad leader added at a lower vibration.
Seeing legion upon legion of Xm^)#tggg fighters swarming was too much for Chrmcg*kdsp! He dove at the nearest enemy, weapons blazing--
<i>Slap</i>
“Damn,” Johnny said. “Mosquitoes in winter?”
Week 24
“So what do we have here,” Lieutenant Johnson asked as he approached the body.
“One Dylan Rattington. Art critic,” Detective Henson replied.
“Cause of death?”
“Blunt force trauma the back of the head.”
“Motive?”
“Possibly his latest review,” Detective Henson said as he held out a plastic evidence bag containing a newspaper clipping. “Found it next to the body.”
‘Dresses in Trees’ is a pulchritudinous vignette replete with lugubrious overtones and an obsequious tincture fulminating in a desultory confabulation of the senses.
“So you think it was the artist?” Lieutant Johnson asked.
“Possibly. But more likely it was Rattington’s editor.”
Week 23
“Are so,” Ryan teased, “are so it.”
“Not so,” Julia yelled as she stomped her feet. “Not so it!”
“Okay you two,” their mother intervened, “that’s enough. It’s bedtime.”
“That’s not fair!” Julia said as she crossed her arms in a defiant manner. “He keeps saying I’m it when I’m not.”
“It won’t matter in the morning,” their mother said as she shooed them to their rooms. “By then you will have forgotten all about it.”
---
Julia looked at the words she had written on the wall in big, pink letters.
<i>not so it</i>
“I won’t forget!” she said.
Week 21
Free at last, free at last…
Words were from some speech she couldn’t recall. They came unbidden to her mind, a declaration of change.
Finally she was free. Free from the abuse, free from the controlling. Free from The Fear.
The cold December wind blew as she stumbled in the sand. She dropped the knife and watched as his blood washed away, mixing with sand and sea.
Then she collapsed, allowing the surf to wash over her. The torn, bleeding flesh of her womanhood welcomed the purifying burn of the salt. The throbbing bruises on her body welcomed the cold.
NOTE: edit would be replacing “…stumbled in the sand.” with “…stumbled on the beach.”
Words were from some speech she couldn’t recall. They came unbidden to her mind, a declaration of change.
Finally she was free. Free from the abuse, free from the controlling. Free from The Fear.
The cold December wind blew as she stumbled in the sand. She dropped the knife and watched as his blood washed away, mixing with sand and sea.
Then she collapsed, allowing the surf to wash over her. The torn, bleeding flesh of her womanhood welcomed the purifying burn of the salt. The throbbing bruises on her body welcomed the cold.
NOTE: edit would be replacing “…stumbled in the sand.” with “…stumbled on the beach.”
Week 20
Jasmine’s stomach rumbled in response to the aroma of cinnamon filling the kitchen.
Hot water ran in the sink as she rinsed off the baking utensils.
The rising heat caused the kitchen window to fog up and she saw the heart that Shawn had drawn that morning.
She smiled.
He had such beautiful eyes, she thought.
“Too bad he had to go.”
Drying her hands, she opened the cabinet next to the stove and stared into the white orbs with their blue irises in the jar of formaldehyde.
“He was so sweet.”
The timer sounded.
“Ah! The snickerdoodles are done!”
Week 2
Only a master was allowed to leave a mark, the Anvartha-nakhadana. For an adept such as Yani, it was not permitted.
Today his test was the Churit-nakhadana. As much art as skill, it required arousal before inflicting death.
His lips touched her skin with the softness of chic down. He caressed her face, her lower lip, her cheeks, her breasts. His mouth brushed the soft pubic hair above her clitoris, her breath drew quick, sharp! His nails suddenly clenched her flesh, her back arched, her body tensed, a shuddering, rising horripilation...
Her neck snapped gently, her face frozen in pleasure.
Today his test was the Churit-nakhadana. As much art as skill, it required arousal before inflicting death.
His lips touched her skin with the softness of chic down. He caressed her face, her lower lip, her cheeks, her breasts. His mouth brushed the soft pubic hair above her clitoris, her breath drew quick, sharp! His nails suddenly clenched her flesh, her back arched, her body tensed, a shuddering, rising horripilation...
Her neck snapped gently, her face frozen in pleasure.
Week 3
Brunner Walters' senses were firing like a crack cocaine fool's rush as he watched the two bikers slow to a stop about 100 yards down the highway. Male and female, probably a previously mating pair now devoted to the hunt together. He eased his highway patrol issued 9mm from its holster and slowly released the clip. He pulled a second clip from his belt, slapped the back of it against base of his palm and checked to make sure the bullets appeared snug. The silver heads shone brilliantly in the cold morning sun.
This, he thought, will make them sparkle.
This, he thought, will make them sparkle.
Week 4
“I don’t understand,” she said.”Why would they ask us to do this? It makes no sense.”
He slid his hand across the table as he took a sip of wine and she responded. They held hands.
“Let me see,” he said quietly.
She smiled, leaned forward, and ran a well manicured finger down his wrist towards his hand, tracing the lines of his palm as she secretively deposited the note.
Casually, he glanced at the note-- and choked on his wine.
Wiping the dribble from his chin, he attempted to recover.
“Dissemble.”
“What?” she asked.
“It says ‘dissemble’. Not ‘disassemble’.”
He slid his hand across the table as he took a sip of wine and she responded. They held hands.
“Let me see,” he said quietly.
She smiled, leaned forward, and ran a well manicured finger down his wrist towards his hand, tracing the lines of his palm as she secretively deposited the note.
Casually, he glanced at the note-- and choked on his wine.
Wiping the dribble from his chin, he attempted to recover.
“Dissemble.”
“What?” she asked.
“It says ‘dissemble’. Not ‘disassemble’.”
Week 8
“…but here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We’d jump the life to come.” He quoted, quietly.
“What?” she mouthed.
He smiled. “Nothing. Just something from an old poet.”
Running water could be heard in the distance.
This job was probably too important for him to have brought along an apprentice. But she was good. He knew she would go far.
Across the way a door opened spilling the raucous noises of the pub. Their mark steadied himself against the wall.
The assassin signaled the apprentice. She focused, summoning from the depths.
And then, all hell broke loose.
“What?” she mouthed.
He smiled. “Nothing. Just something from an old poet.”
Running water could be heard in the distance.
This job was probably too important for him to have brought along an apprentice. But she was good. He knew she would go far.
Across the way a door opened spilling the raucous noises of the pub. Their mark steadied himself against the wall.
The assassin signaled the apprentice. She focused, summoning from the depths.
And then, all hell broke loose.
Week 9
Captain Harmon surveyed the skyline as dusk settled, covering their escape. Overhead she heard the sounds of creaking leather from the twin zeppelin frames of her Her Majesty’s Comment.
Below, aboriginals could be seen twirling fire accompanied by the rhythmic sound of drums.
“I am flabbergasted,” Madame Porthumus said, viewing through her opera glasses, “that anyone should handle fire in such a manner.” Her immense bulk strained against the side-rail for better viewing.
“I am sure that you are Madame,” the Captain replied, “However, should the ship capsize due to an imbalance…”
Madame Porthumus stormed away, huffing as she went.
Below, aboriginals could be seen twirling fire accompanied by the rhythmic sound of drums.
“I am flabbergasted,” Madame Porthumus said, viewing through her opera glasses, “that anyone should handle fire in such a manner.” Her immense bulk strained against the side-rail for better viewing.
“I am sure that you are Madame,” the Captain replied, “However, should the ship capsize due to an imbalance…”
Madame Porthumus stormed away, huffing as she went.
Week 12
I don’t claim to understand the science; that is not my role. But I have faith in Heaven above and in the Apostles within our church. I am a soldier. What’s the old adage? ‘Ours is not to question why…’?
When a child exhibits preternatural abilities, healing in this instance, it is the deceit of the Accuser of the Brethren.
“In the name of the Father,”
Safety off.
“And of the Son,”
Bolt back.
“And of the Holy Ghost,”
Bolt forward.
“Amen.”
Squeeze the trigger.
200 meters down range, her tiny face erupts. Washed in blood, God’s mercy is delivered.
When a child exhibits preternatural abilities, healing in this instance, it is the deceit of the Accuser of the Brethren.
“In the name of the Father,”
Safety off.
“And of the Son,”
Bolt back.
“And of the Holy Ghost,”
Bolt forward.
“Amen.”
Squeeze the trigger.
200 meters down range, her tiny face erupts. Washed in blood, God’s mercy is delivered.
Week 14
Johnny looked out the balcony window. He knew she would be getting ready for a bath. He waved his hand over the cauldron, concentrating. The glowing shape of his neighbor effervesced above and he watched as she undressed.
Her curves excited him.
The door to his bedroom burst open. His concentration broken, the image disappeared in a whisp of vapor.
“Dammit Johnny,” his mother raged, “for the last time, if you haven’t finished your homework I am going to take that cauldron away from you! Do you understand me?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Johnny replied.
It was tough being a teenage witch.
Her curves excited him.
The door to his bedroom burst open. His concentration broken, the image disappeared in a whisp of vapor.
“Dammit Johnny,” his mother raged, “for the last time, if you haven’t finished your homework I am going to take that cauldron away from you! Do you understand me?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Johnny replied.
It was tough being a teenage witch.
Week 15
She would be the end of him. Everything he saw reminded him of her: a sleek bottle with smooth curves, a woman passing by with a smile just so, or even the rounded lobes of a leaf’s hastate shape. He was so consumed by her.
The bumping sound again threatened to attract unwanted attention.
He slammed his hand down on the wooden box.
“Quiet!” he hissed. “This is for your own good.”
He looked around the bus station. A policeman, hearing the noise, spoke into his radio as he began walking his way.
She would be the end of him.