Tag: SSS

Gargoyles

Chris Hall55 Comments

© Ayr/Gray

previously

As she said goodbye to Bjorn, and his beautiful car; she had a new piece, and this time it was a digital art, not that she completely understood it, but Bjorn had promised her that her digital art would double her money in a year.

She had gritted her teeth not thinking about the crash landing on the plane last week, particularly since she had to get on another plane so soon, but now she was back in her tiny flat in Montmartre.

The red-head woman was quite solitary, not like she was in the past, back then she was the life and soul when she had been a Raconteuse; but now she drifts around different places, never settling down, although she will always come back to Paris, the problem is she can’t write as she did.

But she still has some fun.

Nearby was a large empty and old building, where she let herself in; she grinned as she quietly climbed up the rickety stairs and over the wide and shallow roof with several tall chimneys.

The sun was going down all around the city – isn’t it beautiful – and yes, there are two gargoyles and they are coming alive.

next episode

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Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.

Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: DOUBLE

Road Trip

Chris Hall42 Comments

Photo by Ken Cheung on Unsplash

previously

The red-headed writer had never met this guy until just now, although they had been friends for several years, as they had been doing posts in the ether (or at least in a phone or laptop); there had lost touch for a while doing other things, but it didn’t matter now as there were both grinning.

For a couple of hours they talked and joked, what a beautiful place, she said, several times, as Bjorn laughed just like a bear; he drove long and hard on the plateaus and in the valleys, but then he turned off to a small location, almost right by the sea: ‘there’s my spot, he said.

They sat down in the warm and cozy house – there was toast and sardines with whisky – as they looked out on the wilderness.

Then it was 10.30 pm and it’s dark and she’s tired now; meanwhile, Bjorn was doing strange things in his computer, ‘bits’ and ‘bots’ and ‘non-fungible tokens’ – of which she knew nothing and she smiled as she went to bed, wrapped up next to her huge big bag.

She woke up and it was almost light; she went out and down to the beach, how many grains of sand are there, could she hold just one in her hand? and then it happened…

Suddenly, a green smudge of light materialised as the magical spectacle began; it skipped across the darkness of space, while the shimmering liquid flames danced around the sky: it was the aurora borealis.

next episode

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: GRAIN

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Flight 45

Chris Hall59 Comments

https://unsplash.com/@usgs

previously

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, had been staying in her bolt hole place, a tiny flat right up on the rickety stairs, in Montmartre, near the cemetery; a useful place where she’d already sold her little picture for her tidy profit, just a week ago.

Now it was time to go, she grabbed her important things in her big bag; all she would need was some new warm clothes, buying them from a small boutique shop.

Soon she was making her way to the train, taking her to Charles de Gaulle airport, where she had been many times; she also liked to move around from place to place, often in different continents, but she’d never been to Iceland, it would be the coldest place she’d ever been.

After the usual performance to get in the plane and take off, including keeping her eyes shut for a couple of minutes, everything was fine; now she was quite happy to enjoy her gin and tonic, and look forward to seeing some of her friends from the Cafe, although what there were all doing was a mystery to her for the moment.

About three hours later, she’d been reading most of the time, but now there was a great deal of turbulence, as she put everything away and buckled up her seat belt tightly; she looked out from the window, and suddenly a huge plume of fire burst out from the volcano as it erupted.

‘Brace, brace, brace,’ yelled the captain.

next episode

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: TONIC


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Cape Storm

Chris Hall57 Comments

It moaned and raged across the south coast, right up to the highest mountains.

The storm lashed and buffeted the tallest trees, traumatising animals and people living in their shacks.

The birds, shaking with fear, crept in the hollows and bushes, while the squirrels hunkered down in the deep dreys as the huge palm tree swayed around our garden.

From morning to night the storm raged, and raged again; we looked out into the street where the fire and rescue truck had managed to take down a broken great tree, what a relief, but not before we saw terror in the faces of several people

And finally, in the morning, there was no wind or rain.

At least we all have our houses – the walls, the doors, the windows and the roofs – but everything else is such a mess, and we will only talk about the present at the moment.

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Di of Pensitivity 101
Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: TRAUMA, FEAR, TERROR

Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: PRESENT


By the way, this was all true and it was just two weeks ago.

Plugging a Plot Hole (Tales from the SSC&B)

Chris Hall83 Comments
An image of a painting of 'The Demeter' which hangs on the wall of the Manager's office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*
A painting of ‘The Demeter’ which hangs on the wall of the Manager’s office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*

The sound of a small explosion emanated from the Manager’s office, rattling the door and causing the lettering to peel a tiny bit more from its glazed panel.

The Bartender and the Supplier had been busy arranging the new stock on the mirror-backed shelves behind the bar, while Mimi, and her spatula-wielding assistant, Tom had been in the newly-refurbished kitchen preparing for Saturday night’s crowd.

They arrived at the office door together, Tom entered first, his eyes sweeping the room: the Raconteuse, quietly dripping by the fireplace, and the picture of the galleon hanging on the wall behind her.

Tom stepped forward, searching the red-haired writer’s face for an explanation, but none came; he reached behind her, running his finger around the damp picture frame: ‘I believe we have experienced a Dimensional Disturbance,’ he announced, glancing at the Raconteuse, ‘your escape route, might I surmise?’

The other Proprietors looked at Tom uncomprehendingly; Tom grinned, ‘it’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card for a blocked writer,’ he winked at the Raconteuse, ‘a stroke of luck that you introduced the Portal in here as a precaution before going to write yourself back in time.’

‘Luck had nothing to do with it,’ replied the Raconteuse.

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This has been my second offering this week for Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge where this week’s prompt word was stroke.

*crafted on Canva by the author from an image on Pinterest

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~ click on the sign to enter!

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The Jade Camel #21

Chris Hall60 Comments

Previously

Joey glanced at the carnage he’d left behind; an ominous silence pervaded the blood-spattered hallway.

Raising a hand to acknowledge Gary, Joey took a deep breath to quieten his thumping heart and shot back into the building; he burst into his flat and snatched up his back-pack, stuffing it with a handful of clothes and the small battered box which contained his ‘important stuff’.

Skidding back down the stairs, he paused by Ceridwen’s door; it opened before he could knock, revealing Ceridwen, clutching a bristling Cullen in her arms. Digging into his pocket, Joey pulled out a thick roll of notes and started to peel a few off, but Ceridwen shook her head; Joey was about to speak, but she silenced him with a look and with a nod of her head, gestured for him to leave. Giving Cullen’s head a regretful stroke, Joey fled the scene, only pausing to scoop a small shiny object from the hall floor.

Half an hour later, Ceridwen stepped sedately around the fallen bodies and picked up the pay-phone, wondering how she was going to explain all this to the emergency services; one thing was certain though, she wasn’t going to betray young Joey.

Written in response to two challenges:

Di of Pensitivity 101’s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: SEDATE, QUIETEN, SILENCE
Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: STROKE

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Photo credit: illustration from a book somewhere on my bookshelves which has mysteriously disappeared🐪

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The Perils of the Unplanned Plot (Tales from the SSC&B)

Chris Hall65 Comments
An image of a painting of 'The Demeter' which hangs on the wall of the Manager's office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*
A painting of ‘The Demeter’ which hangs on the wall of the Manager’s office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, realised that something had gone seriously wrong with her plan to write herself back in time to find the key to the mystery of the Gatekeeper’s sudden disappearance and subsequent demise; mostly because she simply hadn’t wanted to believe that he’d gone.

While roaming around the inner reaches of her writer’s mind, jotting down what she’d thought should be her next step, events had overtaken her; apparently the Gatekeeper’s casting off of his mortal coil had merely been an elaborate ruse on the part of the Gatekeeper and his equally-imaginative collaborator, Ford the Supplier.

A clever misdirection – she should have known.

Meanwhile, mention being made of a mysterious coffin had sent her down another stupid rabbit hole, the curse of the ‘brancanneering’ story-teller, and now she was stuck on some god-forsaken beach, up to her ankles in chilly seawater, while a strange Gothic ship loomed on the horizon; a storm was brewing too.

A sudden gust of wind ushered in her own personal downpour, drenching her notebook; she applied her pen to the page, but it refused to mark the soggy paper.

How was she going to write herself out of here now?

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This has been my second offering this week for Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge where this week’s prompt word was key.

*crafted on Canva by the author from an image on Pinterest

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Join us at the famous SSC&B for more Six Sentence Stories
~ click on the sign to enter!

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The Jade Camel #20

Chris Hall62 Comments

Previously

‘I lost him!’ Gary panted through the side window of the van, ‘I followed him into the park but he jumped over the wall… I think he’s back in the house,’ his eyes slid to the building where Patterson and his cronies were waiting; one of their number had also just pitched up, red-cheeked from running.

A nerve in Patterson’s temple twitched as he took out his keys and strode over to his car; beckoning to two of his crew, he indicated the now-open boot: one retrieved a crow-bar and the other a stubby-handled axe.

‘They’re going in!’ Gary’s voice rose half an octave with anxiety as the front door began to splinter.

As the door gave way, Joey launched himself over the banister, kicking wildly, taking two of the intruders down as he swung to the floor; spinning away from the man who was wielding the axe and snatching the crow-bar from where it’d fallen; with a mighty roar, Joey raised the crow-bar, smashing it against bone and flesh, Patterson was the last to crumple.

Joey stumbled outside, allowing the crow-bar to clatter to the ground.

‘In here, mate!’ Gary beckoned from the open back door of the van.

next episode

Written in response to two challenges:

Di of Pensitivity 101’s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: ANXIETY, CHEEK, NERVE
Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: KEY

Three things challenge and Six sentence stories logos

Photo credit: illustration from a book somewhere on my bookshelves which has mysteriously disappeared🐪

Click on the Café sign for more Six Sentence Stories

Enter the Café for more stories

The Jade Camel #19

Chris Hall78 Comments

Previously

Ignoring the repeated ringing of the doorbell in the flat above, Ceridwen was distracting her attention from the menacing figures standing in the front yard, concentrating on the progress of a wheelchair-bound man being chaperoned across the road by a white-clad nurse.

A new feeling of foreboding tugged at the edge of her consciousness, accompanied by a gentle tap-tap on her door; she pulled it open, Joey stood before her emitting the disquieting aura she’d sensed before: ‘How did you get in, Joey?’

‘Through the window by the back door you leave open for Cullen,’ her young neighbour looked about anxiously, ‘I just came to pick up some stuff.’

Ceridwen’s eyes followed his, ‘I take it those people outside are after whatever it is you have; not that it’s any of my business, but I should get rid of it if I were you.’

‘Look, here’s the plan,’ Joey’s eyes darted towards the stairs, ‘I’m in and out quickly, then I’ll ring the phone downstairs from the call-box up the road; you go and answer then tell the man outside it’s for him; I’ll talk to him, draw him off, like…’

Joey was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood.

next episode

Written in response to two challenges:

Di of Pensitivity 101’s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: CHAPERONE, NURSE, WHEELCHAIR
Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: EDGE

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Photo credit: illustration from a book somewhere on my bookshelves which has mysteriously disappeared🐪

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The Link (Tales from the SSC&B)

Chris Hall48 Comments
Vintage Silver Ronson Lighter

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, was sitting outside on the small flat-roofed section of the old mill building, leaning her against the wall of the long-defunct elevator machine room; the upper floors of the large, storied building were derelict too, but the ground floor and basement were the busy hub of the thriving Six Sentence Café & Bistro, or at least they had been up until the outbreak of a small kitchen fire earlier that day.

It could have been worse; due to Tom’s rapid reaction and the prompt attendance of the fire department, the fire had been mostly confined to the sauté station, although the accompanying damage from the fire hoses had left the kitchen a soggy sooty mess; thankfully the rest of the Café had remained unscathed.

There was something else bothering her even more: the sudden disappearance of the Café’s doorman, the Gatekeeper, who’d subsequently been found dead in his apartment building, and despite communications from some female attorney, improbably called Finley Leana something-or-other, the Raconteuse was having difficulty accepting her fellow Proprietor’s demise; she sighed, if only she could rewrite that particular chapter in the SSC&B’s history.

She felt the reassuring solidity of the object she was holding, once described as a ‘non-functioning prop’, a purely fictional item, the silver cigarette lighter was now tangible, although granted, it didn’t actually work, which was probably just as well, since the lack of ignition fluid absolved her from any suspicion as to the cause of the fire, should there be an inquiry.

The point was, she had brought an item from one of her stories into her own actuality; maybe this newly-found phenomenon, where imagination and reality had collided to produce a tangible object, could be harnessed; as she slipped the lighter into her pocket her thoughts drifted to Jenne’s Time Travelling Tomahawk, still stowed on a shelf behind the bar, Jenne had said that she could borrow it.

She took out her notebook and pencil and started to write.

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This has been my second offering this week for Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge where this week’s prompt word was fluid.

I would also refer my reader to the following linked Tales from the SSC&B: Why Exit Now? by Spira, Baptism by Fire by Denise and this week’s Six Sentence Story – The Wakefield Doctrine by Clark.

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~ click on the sign to enter!

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