Monday, June 23, 2014

FINISH THAT THOUGHT #51




Welcome back for another week of madness and mayhem, fun and games, or somewhere in-between! You all never cease to amaze me with your offerings, and I don't expect this week to be any different. So get to it! Go check out the prompt and write us something awesome. :)



If you need to read the full version of the rules, go here. Otherwise, here's the short version:

Rules:
1. Up to 500 words
2. Keep it clean (nothing rated R or above)
3. Start with the given first sentence.
4. Optional Special Challenge
5. Include: Twitter/email, word count, Special Challenge accepted
6. The challenge is open for 24 hours on Tuesday EST



Oh, and feel free to change pronouns, punctuation, tense, and anything in brackets to fit the story/pov/tone. I'm not going to be TOO picky... Our judge however...


Our Judge today is Kelley Thibodeau
, also known as @KelleyThibodeau. Read her winning tale from last week here! She's still working on a blog, but she's a retired Air Force public affairs officer (the communication career field) with 18 years of nonfiction writing experience (newpapers, media releases, Web articles, regulations). Now she's freelance writing and trying her hand at speculative fiction.



 Your first sentence for FINISH THAT THOUGHT #51 is:


[Stupid] [gnomes], you'd think they'd know better.



 Your SPECIAL CHALLENGE from the judge is:


Trash bags


 
AAAAAAAND WE'RE OFF!!!







6 comments:

  1. Trojan Trash BagsStupid villagers, you'd think they'd know better. Prerrabard thought contemptuously. Really! What possible protection could, what, were those? Yes, they were! Trash bags of all things, provide against a being capable of hearing their every heartbeat. The vampire licked his lips hungrily, avoiding the sharply protruding fangs. He raised a single black brow superciliously. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He purred with silken menace.

    "Get away from here!"

    "Leave us alone!"

    "Yeah! We don't want you around!" Came the various shouts from the crowd.

    "Why would I do something like that?" Prerrabard snidely inquired. "The surroundings are so pleasant and the company so... welcoming." He said sarcastically.

    "Father Talbot, do your duty!" The mayor ordered.

    The priest stepped forward from his flock. He wore a black cassock trimmed with white. He brandished a large golden crucifix mounted on a pole threateningly in Prerrabard's face. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost I command you to begone Unholy Creature!" The priest thundered. The two altar boys flanking him splashed the vampire with vials of Holy Water. The priest slammed the spiked butt of the pole into the stony ground.

    "Begone!" The crowd roared after him.

    The crowd watched in disbelief as Prerrabard casually wiped the water from his face.

    "I thought he was supposed to go up in flames." One man whispered to his neighbor.

    "He's not even smoking." The other man replied glumly.

    "Father, Father." Prerrabard tsked. "That won't do you any good, I was an atheist in life. I only became a believer after death and I do not believe in your god." He laughed wildly. "Those puny symbols of yours have no power over me. In fact, I think that I've been insulted." His face twisting he savagely growled. "And for that you will all pay!" He snarled and lunged forward.

    "Now!" The mayor shouted. The mob ripped the trash bags from their bodies revealing the sharp wooden stakes that had been strapped there in concealment. They rushed forward together.

    Trojan trash bags! Prerrabard thought.

    "Stab the heart!" Father Talbot shouted.

    Stakes pricked his skin from every direction as Prerrabard was surrounded by the villagers. He yelled in pain as they struck his flesh causing it to sizzle and burn. "Garlic! You coated them with garlic!" Fire coated his body. "No!" He moaned in disbelief as he sank to the ground, scorched by flames.

    "Yes demon! We know how to deal with your kind!" The priest plunged the spike of the crucifix deep within the vampire's heart. "Let thy Master claim thy soul!" Father Talbot shouted triumphantly.

    Prerrabard writhed in agony, his sight fading. He felt himself being pulled down, down towards something dark and hungry. Within moments only a patch of smoldering ashes revealed any trace of his existence.

    "Oh Lord, we thank you for Your protection in this our hour of need. Amen." The priest prayed crossing himself solemnly.

    "Amen" The assembled villagers replied. Victorious they returned to their homes.

    500 Words
    Special Challenge accepted
    karnemily@yahoo.com








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  2. Alissa, can you please put a blank line between "Trojan Trash Bags" and "Stupid villagers.." I had some trouble with my computer today. Thank you, Emily.

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    1. Emily, I really wish I could, but I don't think blogger lets me edit comments. I can delete them, but not edit them (at least, I don't think I can. If there's a way I'd love to know it! I've considered moving to wordpress because of that...). But I'm sure Kelley will see that it's the title and take that into consideration.

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  3. The Trash-bagged Bootlegger

    “Stupid broads, you'd think they'd know better,” Jimmy growled under his breath. He sat huddled under the basement stairs with a bottle of brandy tucked under his arm and a burlap sack draped across him. “Trash bag ain’t stopped no one before from going to jail.”

    Heavy footsteps paced across the creaking floorboards above his head followed by the light clip-clop of several pairs of high heels. The basement door groaned open, letting the words of one of the clip-clops filter down in.

    “...no trouble at all, Sarge,” came the light twang of Marlene’s baby doll voice. “Here’s the basement if ya want to check it out.”

    “Stupid, stupid broads,” Jimmy repeated. He shuffled his weight around to try to blend in better with the trunks and other paraphernalia hiding under the stairs with him. The heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs. Marlene’s clip-clops followed suit. The second pair of clip-clops ran in the opposite direction.

    “You know what’ll happen to you if I find any alcohol here,” the booming voice of the policeman echoed in the cement cellar.

    “Yeah, yeah, I know. I ain’t worried, I ain’t got nothing here. You ain’t got nothing on me neither.”

    The policeman said no more but clicked on his flashlight. Jimmy cursed.

    “I’ve had reports that you’ve been smuggling liquor, Miss Hennigan. You also have a bootlegger sneaking in and out of here.”

    “Bootlegger? What the hell is that?” came Marlene’s shrill reply. Jimmy winced. The beam of the flashlight drew dangerously close to his hiding spot. He stiffened.

    “I think you know, Miss Hennigan.”

    The beam came millimetres away from his nose.

    “It’s true I got a man always coming and going all secret-like. But it’s...personal.”

    The beam wavered.

    “Do you like... personal, Sarge?”

    Even Jimmy could smell Marlene’s cheap perfume from here. He hoped to God he didn’t sneeze. He could feel beads of perspiration forming on his forehead and starting to trickle down his nose.

    “Miss Hennigan, I’m here on official business,” the officer reprimanded.

    “Of course, Sarge, of course. But if you ever need a little... personal... attention...”

    The beam disappeared.

    “Thank you, Miss Hennigan, I’ve seen enough.”

    Heavy footsteps thumped back up the stairs. Clip-clops followed behind.

    “Stupid broads,” Jimmy cursed in relief.

    Word Count: 376
    mary.lynne90@yahoo.com
    Special Challenge!

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  4. Thank you, Emily and Mary for participating in this week's flash fiction contest! You both provided interesting stories from different perspectives and included the special challenge.

    This week's special challenge winner is...Emily (karnemily@yahoo.com)!

    The grand champion is...Emily! You had intrigue and blood lust!

    Kelley Thibodeau

    ReplyDelete