Tag: THWD

Can you look again?

Chris Hall15 Comments
000 HW Prompt 28.04.19
Source

What do you see, Tiger Lily?

I see the moon.
I see the path shining in front of me, illuminated in the bright moonlight.

What else?

Nothing else.

What do you feel, Tiger Lily?

I feel the dampness of the night.
I feel the ground, wet beneath my feet.

What do you hear, Tiger Lily?

I hear waves breaking on a shore far away.
Do I hear you breathing?
Why can’t I see you?

What do you smell, Tiger Lily?

I smell the dampness of the earth.
Nothing else.
Where are you?

What do you taste, Tiger Lily

I taste nothing.
Just emptiness.

What do you remember, Tiger Lily?

I remember when we first met; on a moon-bright night like this.
I remember… everything.

And what do you want, Tiger Lily?

I want you back.

Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Daily Prompt 28.04.19

No Pressure, Writer!

Chris Hall12 Comments

genre writing challenge lunasonline No Pressure Writer by chris hall

I watch the time countdown on my screen. My shift is about to start. I run my fingers over the keyboard. I’m ready.

The workload has been increasing. So far I’m keeping up. The monitoring is continual. From the moment you are woken until the lights and screens are turned off: when to shower, when to eat, when to take a break.

It’s all about production, efficiency, the bottom line.

Clock in, clock off, clock out. Thank you for your contribution.

At least I’m only writing ‘soapies’ to entertain the masses. Imagine the pressure if I was doing something crucial.

100 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Writing Challenge April 16: Technological Horror

The Rain Forest Revolts

Chris Hall7 Comments
Ecothriller
Source

The Foremost Developer had taken the bait: 100 acres of rain-forest, ripe for replanting with oil palms. He rubbed his hands. His bulldozers were ready. But this time Gaia had been awakened; she too was ready for destruction. This time the earth would revolt. It would not be the last.

50 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Writing Challenge.

Sign Here

Chris Hall17 Comments
statue
Source

– Okay, that’s what I signed, but I didn’t sign up for this.

– What do you mean?

– I signed up to write one post a day, every day, for a month.

– To start with.

– Yes, but…

– Didn’t you read the small print?

– No, well, I just assumed…

– Never assume.

– But…

– It increases in intensity. Exponentially each day. One post a day, two posts a day, four, then eight…

– So today’s Day Seven and it’s 64 posts, then tomorrow it’ll be 128 and the next day 256 and so on.

– Exactly.

– Well, sorry, I can’t. I quit.

– You quit. Okay.

– Thanks.

– You didn’t read the penalty clause then?

– No… What? Oh no!

– So what’s it going to be?

– Okay. I’ll do it.

– Sign here.

From Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Story Starter Challenge #6 – 1 day late, blame the time zone.

With best wishes to Camp-NaNoWriMo’s and NoPoWriMo’s everywhere!

The Secret Ingredient

Chris Hall4 Comments
magical realism challenge by teresa 040419
Source

The restaurant was closed the following day and I was leaving that afternoon. What potent ingredient had been in the aperitif which caused the world to change before my eyes?

A seemingly innocuous ruby concoction which rendered people’s reflections invisible and gave me a voracious appetite for the steak tartare.

 

50 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Genre Writing Challenge. I’m not quite sure that I pulled it off, but it’s just a bit of fun!
Based on a strange evening I once had in Seville. I’ll tell you about it sometime.

The Wedding Anniversary

Chris Hall7 Comments
lunasonline whitby
visitwhitby.com

Mina comes every year to this ruined church on a windswept cliff, after the sun has set over the bleak moorland.

It might seem a strange place to remember her wedding anniversary, but to Mina and her Sisters it is special, for once they were all the Brides of Dracula.

50 word story, written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s ‘Main March Madness’ No. 31 – Wedding Anniversary.

There’s nothing under the bed

Chris Hall7 Comments
Sarah Youthed @xsjgy on Unsplash
Sarah Youthed @xsjgy on Unsplash

Jerry:     Repeat after me. There’s nothing under the bed.

Jules:     There’s nothing under the bed.

                [Pause]

Jules:     But there is, I tell you.

Jerry:     We looked. We looked again. There’s nothing under the bed.

Jules:     Just because you can see them, it doesn’t mean they’re not there.

                [Silence]

Jules:     I see them all the time. I know they’re there. All over the house. Don’t you ever                     see, you know, something flash past, out of the corner of your eye?

                [Silence]

Jules:     Like ghosts maybe?

Jerry:     I don’t believe in ghosts.

Jules:     Okay. Maybe they’re from another dimension.

                [Jerry sighs]

Jules:     String theory. There was that article. Or something to do with Dark Matter.

Jerry:     You watch too much science fiction.

Jules:     That’s science fact.

                [Silence]

Jules:     Are you asleep, Jerry?

                [Silence]

Jules:     Jerry?

                [Silence]

Jules:     Jerry?

                [Pause]

Voice:   You’re next.

                [Silence]

My prompt was The Haunted Wordsmith’s Story Starter Challenge #19

 

A Candlelit Evening

Chris Hall7 Comments
Candlelit evening by Chris Hall lunasinline photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash
Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

Wrapped in her fluffy pink robe she glides into the beautiful bathroom. Hot water gushes from swan-shaped tabs into a large claw-footed tub. The light is subdued. Rose-scented candles glow seductively, reflected in the slightly-smoked full length mirror with its glittering frame of hand-picked pink quartz tiles. She pauses and turns around. What has she forgotten?

Moments later she reappears carrying a large crystal glass containing her favourite mouth-filling red wine.

The white-tiled floor is glossy, and slippery with an unnoticed sheen of steam. She strides forward and suddenly…

She’s on the floor, prone on those pricey ice-white tiles. She hesitates for just a moment and then rises to her feet. She stands facing the mirror, but something’s wrong. Where’s her reflection? She focuses on the one missing tile on the far corner of the frame, still not mended, but when she looks back, her face is still absent.

Her gaze travels down the misting mirror. What’s that on the floor behind her? She turns and sees a pink robed figure. Spilled red blood mingles with spilled red wine. She raises her hand to her mouth to suppress a scream, but there is no hand, no mouth.

There is nothing.


Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s ‘Main March Madness‘ 13 ‘A Ghost’
and with a nod to a scene from Michael Connelly’s ‘Dark Sacred Night’.

Space Cadets

Chris Hall17 Comments
Hanson Lu on Unsplash
Photo by Hanson Lu on Unsplash

We peer out at the blank, barren landscape. Having landed, we’re not sure where we are. Or for that matter, ‘when’ we are. That’s the problem if you borrow the Professor’s Special Space Machine without asking.

But she’d shown it to us, tempted us. That’s the problem with having someone like the Professor coaching you for entry to the Space Academy.

But hold on, who’s that up ahead? Look, she’s waving.

We hurry forward into the bleak barrenness, but before we reach her, there is an ear-splitting sound. Everything goes black.

Later, when we come round, we are strapped into hard, upright seats facing a large spherical console. The Professor is standing opposite us.

We start to speak, but she holds up her hand for silence. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to join the Space Academy, but I’m afraid the Great Zyborgatron has other plans.” She smiles weakly. “He did grant me one last request, however.”

Plates of burgers and chips materialize before us. We look at her; what did she say?

“Well go on,” she urges, indicating the food.

We eat. We devour the lot. It’s the best burger and chips we’ve ever had.

Then everything goes black.

Onwards to episode 2

 

The Day the Circus Came

Chris Hall5 Comments
autumn-autumn-leaves-blur-Lăzuran Călin
Autumn leaves blur by Lăzuran Călin on Unsplash

The year before, and all the years before that, as long as anyone could remember, when the travelling circus came to town, elephants and monkeys marched along the main road all the way through the town to the open field where they set up the tents. Snake handlers, people on stilts, and even the bearded lady followed, handing out fliers as they danced past.

But this year was different. On the appointed day we heard a brass band heralding the parade. The rosy cheeked ringmaster in his full regalia marched proudly at the front. Dainty drum majorettes followed, parading and pirouetting; next came the gaudily dressed clowns with their sad, smiling faces. And acrobats who turned cartwheels and somersaults.

But where were the lions, the tigers and elephants? Where were the dwarfs and the tallest man in the World? No ladies with beards or two-tailed monkeys? No fire-eaters, no sword-swallowers or freak acts at all!

What kind of entertainment was this?

Cruelty-free.

no to animals in circuses
I wrote this back in December in response to a prompt from Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith. It’s so long ago I can’t find the link.

Anyway, I never got around to posting it. Somehow it didn’t quite chime with the festive season. But now we have a circus – with animals – coming to our town. 

And I really don’t like that.