Monday, July 21, 2014


Welcome back!!!! Before we move on, if you haven't seen Weird Al's "Word Crimes" video yet, it's worth a look. I LOVED it! Here's a link to it on Grammarly's website, if you need it. You're welcome. :) Laughter is the best medicine, right? Anyway, you may now go and read the prompt for the week and get writing! Yes, I just gave you permission... No you didn't need my permission... I gave it anyway. I like to go above and beyond what is required of me. ;)

If you haven't read the full version of the rules, go here. Otherwise, here's the short version:

1. Start with the given first sentence.
2. Up to 500 words
3. Keep it clean (nothing rated R or above)
4. Optional Special Challenge
5. Stories submitted must be your own work, using characters and worlds that you have created. Sorry, no fanfiction.
6. Include: Twitter/email, word count, Special Challenge accepted
7. The challenge is open for 24 hours on Tuesday EST

Oh, and feel free to change pronounspunctuationtense, 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 Michael Simko
. Also known as @michaelsimko1. Read his winning tale from last week here! Michael writes Adult & New Adult Thrillers and Mysteries. He is just beginning querying his storm-chasers-on-a-mission novel. He can be reached at @michaelsimko1 where he tweets about writing, technology, and tornados.

 Your first sentence for FINISH THAT THOUGHT #2-3 is:

The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and [decay] assail [me] as [I] approach the table.

 Your SPECIAL CHALLENGE from the judge is:

Include a deception that backfires.



  1. Any Which Way Undead

    The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and decay assail me as I approach the table. What else would you expect in Room 7734, a vampire/zombie honeymoon suite after all? There were signs of a struggle everywhere, the over turned table, spilled bottles of champagne, trodden on and smashed cake, scattered flowers, and blots of clotted black blood. Gleaming silver spikes pinned the groom to the wall like some giant macabre butterfly. He groaned in pain as the EMT's removed the one piercing his left eye. His first words were: "Where's my wife? What's happened to her? Who shot me?" He cried in bewilderment.

    "Here's the crime scene Detective Dixon." My guide, the father of the deceased and now vanished bride announced his brows furrowed in concern. "We just want to know what happened to our daughter, the police have been totally useless." He suddenly exploded. "They won't do a thing because our daughter is legally dead!"

    "They can be picky about details like that. Call me Danger Mr. Stanford, don't worry I'll figure out what happened to Airlea." I reassured him. I began with the usual round of questions: Who had last seen the bride? What was her mood like? Did she have any enemies? Meanwhile I carefully examined the evidence.

    I quickly focused in on the mother of the groom. Groomed to within an inch of her undead life, there was something a little too perfect about her. Her pallid figure icy white, she showed not a single jot of concern for her injured son or his missing bride.

    "How did you feel about the wedding Mrs. Albescu?"

    "It was Gavril's choice."

    I found that phrase telling, 'it' she called the bride. "And your husband?"

    "Nicusor? He refused to have anything to do with the wedding, called it a travesty and threatened to disown our son." She replied coldly.

    "I see." I felt a tingle. I got on my laptop and began running some searches. Several moments later I looked up. "Mr. Stanford, I've found your daughter. She's one floor down in room 6734."

    "But who took her there and why?" He asked in bewilderment.

    "I'm afraid that your son-in-law's father objected rather violently to their union." Together we tramped down to the room. I stepped in first weapon drawn. A bound figure dressed in white squirmed on the bed. I aimed, fired, and brought down the fang-bared man that charged me. Nicusor Albescu slumped unconscious to the floor. I swiftly strapped the silver cuffs on him.

    "Airlea!" The overjoyed groom raced to embrace his bride. "You're safe!" He hugged her close. Garvil turned to his now alert father. "Why did you do this?" He asked.

    "To protect our line from contamination. I thought that if she disappeared you would forget her." Nicusor snarled. No one can be as blood-proud as a vampire.

    "Never! I love Airlea! You don't have to disown me, I'm not your son any longer!" Garvil shouted as they led his cuffed father away in disgrace.

    498 Words
    Special Challenge Accepted

  2. e scent of wedding cake, flowers, and decay assail him as he approaches the table…

    It didn’t matter how many times Tanner Thompson worked his particular kind of magic on a room full of unsuspecting party guests, the special thrill remained. He stood towering over the victims in the center of the room as a feeling of utter and complete satisfaction caused a menacing smirk to play at the corner of his lips. They hadn’t suspected a thing… they never did.

    The wedding arch where countless happy couples had exchanged vows lay in pieces, the garland of pink and purple flowers that decorated it lay torn and shredded. Beneath it - the hapless fatalities. The groom lay staring blankly up at him, a pillar across his torso. The bride, a molded smile frozen on her face, had lost a leg. It lay three feet away, shapely as ever. It’s high heel still firmly in place. The maid of honor, dressed in yellow taffeta, lay broken and bent, her arm twisted at an ungodly angle, and her head facing entirely the wrong direction.

    The horse drawn carriage that was meant to take the bride and groom away was on its side, the horses helpless to stand on their own. They would be taking the convertible from now on, Tanner laughed without mercy.
    He stomped through the space, admiring his handiwork. A buffet table lay on its side, food and plates strewn across the floor. Who served a turkey at wedding anyway? A large fish stared simpering up at him. He squished it into the carpet with his foot. The other dishes were unidentifiable colored bowls of mush. Disgusting, he thought, and was immediately glad he had put his plan into action before he had been forced to eat any of it. As it was, his bladder was screaming with the three obligatory cups of tea he’d been forced to drink while he bided his time.

    That was his standard m.o., and it worked flawlessly. He would campaign for an invitation, and would inevitably be included on the guest list. On his very best behavior he would arrive at the venue, comment on how nice things had turned out as he sipped a cup of cold tea, and as the bridal march began he would rain chaos down on the event. Not even Superman could stop him… not that he would want to. Tanner was fairly certain that the majority of both the Marvel and D.C. Universes would have supported his efforts.

    Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, turning towards an upturned row of chairs where a ragtag group of guests lay strewn and shattered. In the corner, he saw her. A little blonde curly top, and she was crying. Damn. Why did this always happen? The little girl looked up at him with huge blue eyes filled with betrayal that seemed to ask, ‘Why?’

    For a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt. Until she uttered the only words that would strike fear into the heart of a pitiless killer.

    “I’m telling mom!”

    512 Words
    Special Challenge Accepted

  3. The scent of wedding cake, flowers and cheap perfume assail me as I approach the table.

    “What do you think you are doing?” I ask Elise
    “I am finishing the head table centerpiece…..” Her words trail off as she looked like a deer in headlights when she realized it was me asking. The Wedding Obsession contest had become a bizarre obsession for Elise. We had been in business together for two years, and she was showing the true side of her Diva.

    The contest had been posted on the Wedding Obsession website, a place that all those involved in the wedding business liked to get their information on and find out new trends and desires of brides. We had been following their site through out college in the hopes of snagging the right guy and having the wedding of the century, while holding down awesome consulting careers of course. My dream was the first to crash when I found out the Robert had gotten an internship in research in Paris and forgot to tell me until the week before he left. Elise decided to go out one night and bring home a hot baseball player forgetting that her boyfriend was coming in the next morning for a get away weekend with her. However, the obsession for weddings continued and we needed an outlet for all of our Pinterest Boards to come to fruition. Hence the beginning of ‘Decorating Divas, if we can’t do it for ourselves then we will do it for you!’

    We had hoped for weeks that we would be chosen for this event, it would put our company on the front page of the website with our wonderful creations featured. Elise announced that had been rejected from the competition because our business was too small. I was crushed as she seemed to be also.

    I was utterly shocked when two days before the event I received a call from the Wedding Obsession coordinator saying that she was trying to get in touch with Elise Patterson who was participating in the Wedding Obsession contest, she had new information about set up and schedules. I kindly asked about the particulars and made a note to show up. I also kindly gave her Elise’s home phone number and asked her to not share our conversation as Elise was very nervous and would be upset if she thought they were unable to get in touch with her.

    “I received a call that you would be here. I think your deception is beyond disrespectful of our business and personal relationship. We are done” I turn and head for my table, a last minute entry thanks to the coincidence of a phone call.

    “Our winner of the Wedding Obsession contest is Sally Hendricks of 2Become1!!!” The round of applause was enormous as the curtain opened and my display was presented.

    Special Challenge accepted
    word count 477

  4. Two Brothers and a Wedding

    The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and champagne assail them as they approach the table. In matching black tuxes with paisley print vests, burgundy bowties, and silk cummerbunds, the Winthrop brothers slither inconspicuously past evening gowns and rented tuxes to the laden buffet. Upon it rests silver platters of fresh fruit mostly of the exotic variety, two large crystal bowls boasting freshly tossed salad, and towering tiers of dainty crab cakes, lobster canapes, and bacon-wrapped scallops.

    Percival Winthrop rubs his long fingers together with glee before picking up a porcelain plate. “What a feast we have today!” he chortles to Wilfred. His twin twirls his sophisticated whiskers as a smile stretches from ear to ear.

    “Indubitably, my dear Percival.”

    “Have you tasted the champagne yet?” Percival asks while emptying the scallops from the top of one tier onto his plate.

    Wilfred pats his lumpy cummerbund and his grin widens to encompass half his head. “It is sublime. Of course, I would not expect any less from the van Hortons.”

    Percival’s hand hovers over a crab cake. “Dearest Wilfred, you know the bride’s family?”

    “Read about them, read about them,” Wilfred assures Percival. The crab cake joins two others and the scallops as a buxom lady dripping in furs and diamonds thrusts herself between the brothers to unload a tier of its lobster canapes. She eyes Percival’s plate and chuckles.

    “You eat like a van Horton, but you don’t look like one!” she observes.

    “We’re merely indulging in the eating customs of the bride’s family to make them feel welcome,” Wilfred interjects.

    “Ah, so you’re on the groom’s side?” the lady asks.

    “Yes, dear madam,” Percival says.

    “How are you related?” she queries.

    “We’re brothers, madam,” Wilfred explains smoothly. “Identical twins, if you could not tell.”

    “I mean to the groom,” she persists.

    “Second cousins on his father’s side,” Percival adds. “To which side of the family do you belong, madam?”

    “I am the groom’s mother,” she says pertly. “And I don’t recollect any second cousins on the list.”

    “This is a sticky wicket,” Wilfred says with an arch to his brow and a twirl to his whiskers.

    Percival slides the scallops into his jacket pocket, much to the surprise of the lady. “Shall we depart this scene, my dear Wilfred?”

    Wilfred links his arm with Percival’s. “Indubitably, my dear Percival.”

    Word Count: 390
    Special Challenge included

  5. This comment has been removed by the author.

  6. The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and decay assail me as I approach the table. Prone beneath the frivolity of celebration, my ever-faithful and somewhat ill-mannered disingenuous spouse of umpteen years, reeks of last years butchered pig. His left foot hangs by a thin sinew and his size 13 corefram shoe has fallen to the ground. A trickle of blood makes a slow arduous path downward from the near severed extremity
    “Really Fred.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “There are better ways to attend your son’s wedding.”
    I should probably explain. Fred, my late great husband has been dead for twenty years. A freak accident I’d rather not go into, least to say I spent two decades sequestered in a padded room for my part. Only I can see his decaying flesh and smell his putrid stench. Sometimes I even hear his howl of agony. Like a kitten’s purr.
    My son sends me a half-smile. I lower my voice as I kick his foot knocking the table leg in the process. It teeters.
    “Mom,” Thomas comes close and takes my elbow to guide me away.
    “He’s here. I told you he would be. You wouldn’t listen,” I stage whisper hoping the awkward gawkers will take the hint and bugger off. One woman with a peacock perched on her otherwise frumpy hat, takes a sip of amber liquid nudging a fat stout man beside her.
    We go into the other room and I sit at the piano nestled in the corner. Fred appears at Thomas’ shoulder and I stand up abruptly. In the years since Fred left for greener pastures, I’ve held my tongue as to what happened. Out of nowhere I blurt, “I want to tell you what happened.”
    “Now? Here?” Thomas’ face goes ashen. He looks to the other guest milling just out of earshot. “I don’t think this is the right venue, Mom.”
    “It was a night much like tonight. Your father was about to marry the bimbo he’d left me for when I found my daddy’s chainsaw leaning against the front stoop.” I wipe my brow as perspiration start and I looked to Fred’s loving smile. He looks like he had so many years ago. “I wasn’t about to let him make a mockery of our anniversary like that. You know I loved that man for over fifty years and he thought he’d leave me.”
    Fred takes my hand and this time he isn’t half-chewed by the saw blade. “Martha, I wasn’t about to marry anyone but you. It was our anniversary and I’d plan for us to renew our vows.”
    “But that woman?”
    “Was to perform the ceremony.”
    “I saw you having trysts for three weeks in the bakery outside of town.”
    “To plan it,” Fred says. He takes my hand in both of his and lightly kisses my palm.
    I look into this sullen eyes as my heart stops dead in my chest.

    word count 491

    Not my best but I was determined to write something.

  7. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.