Here’s my story for Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. It’s slightly over the word count but I’ve already chopped out 40 words!
The supplied sentence is in bold in my story, and you can see all the other contributions by clicking on the blue froggy.
The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.
However, the Devil was away on business and the minions were having a party! There was jelly and ice cream, little sausages on sticks and, of course, unspeakable torments.
All the best demons had turned up. All the worst demons too. Chamblezook, Defiler of Small Animals, had accidentally marked the invite “public” on FaceScroll.
Chamblezook watched in horror as the demons… “tore up the joint”, he believed was the “in” term. He gasped as he looked out the window to see Grigglebarg, Corrupter of Kitty-Cats, taking a leak on the Master’s prize-winning geraniums.
Then he heard a voice. “He’s mine, she’s mine, missed him…” The Master was coming, reading the graveyard headstones. He would not be pleased.
He was not pleased. In his rage the Master created Hell on Earth. He later admitted he may have gone too far, but billions of humans would now be subjected to the worst torment ever devised.
And thus the Reality Show was born.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
“So what’s this you’re demonstrating, then?”
“Well, you know how the little bastar… darlings from Class 7B are always tipping the lockers over?”
“I’ve retro-fitted them with special bars that automatically slam down to steady them the moment any tipping movement is detected.”
“Riigghttt… one problem I can see…”
“I’ll give them a shove and you’ll see it in action.”
“…is that there’s a busy corridor right behind…”
“Yay! The anti-tipping mechanism deployed beautifully.”
“On top of Class 5C.”
“Some sort of pre-deployment alarm system, perhaps?”
“Go away now, please. Somebody call an ambulance!”
Here is my contribution to Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. Today we find out what Chad and Brad, our favourite stoners, have been up to since last we saw them.
The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story, and this week’s other stories can be found by clicking on the blue froggy.
The family had no idea that little Luigi would grow up to be… prematurely dead.
Neither did Chad and Brad when they visited their old friend hoping to score some weed. Everyone knew Luigi had the best in town.
While waiting for Luigi to fetch his stash, Brad stumbled across an old photograph.
“Dude!” said Brad. “Come look! It’s little Luigi!”
“Digging the cool retro costumes, Luigi,” said Chad, puffing on his spliff. “When was this taken?”
Luigi’s face turned dark. “1874,” he said. “Now my secret is out and you both must join me… in death. Bwahahahaha!” Luigi’s fangs extended and he attacked.
“Not again,” grumbled Brad, taking an extended puff of annoyance. “Ghosts, vampires…”
“Dude!” exclaimed Chad as Luigi leapt straight into the lit end of his joint.
As everyone knows, vampires and flames don’t mix. Luigi burst into flames.
“Oh man!” said Chad. “I torched Luigi! Sorry, dude.”
Luigi screamed and exploded.
“Not cool,” said Brad, wiping Luigi-ashes off his coat. “Come on, let’s find his stash. Finders keepers!”
Here is my story for Laura’s Literary Lion prompt. Mr Lion has spoken and this week’s prompt word is “flower“. I’ve left all attempts at humour behind for a slightly grittier attempt for this week’s story.
Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
A pocket full of posies,
We all fall down.
The words of the old nursery rhyme run through Dravid’s head as he looks around. Apt, he thinks, but the Black Death had nothing on this.
Here a woman stumbles past, sobbing, clutching the remains of her baby close to her. There a child stares blankly, a numb look on his face as blood-tinged tears trickle down his cheeks.
Once upon a time there were “rules of war”. You can do this, but not that. Kill this person but not that one. Not anymore. Rules? In war? War is all about winning. About killing, and killing, and killing, until there’s no one left to kill. That’s how you know you’ve won. And so finally both sides unleashed the stores of chemical weapons they never admitted to having.
Delivery was always the trick, thinks Dravid as he muses on this. Too easy to shoot down missiles, planes. He drops his backpack by the side of the road, the empty chemical bomb rolling out into the dirt, its contents already unleashed. He’s done his bit. Time now to rest. Lowering himself to the ground, his fingernails already rimmed with red, he knows that his end is near, past overdue in fact. He plucks a perfect white rose, marvelling at how selective the chemical is, leaving plants and animals untouched. Something to do with DNA, he understands.
The chemical, his chemical courses through his body, and his last sight as his insides liquefy is his blood, staining the rose red. Such a beautiful shade of red.
I hate to publish and run, but I’m off to my book club. It’s my turn to bring the biscuits!
“What’s that picture, Grandpa?”
“Whales, in the sea. That’s to remind us of the days before the particle accelerator accident, when 90% of our seawater drained through to another dimension.”
“Oh. Is that what caused the ruined buildings?”
“No. That was the creatures from the other dimension attacking us because we almost drowned them all.”
“Oh. So why do we still have seas?”
“That was some helpful aliens who delivered water and accidentally drowned 95% of the survivors. But they say bad things come in threes, so we’re safe now.”
“I’m sure the massive comet currently hurtling towards us will miss.”