October 2010 Writing Challenge -- HareBrain Wins Again!

Status
Not open for further replies.
In False Skin

Before the selkies came, Slaine hid the seal's coat clumsily near the shallows of the moonlit beach.

She rose with the sun and the sea-daughters before the ardent eyes of village youths and proud Alasdair. He caught her, found the skin, carried both across his threshold.

They were content: she in love, he enraptured by trickery.

But when the moon waned, the seal-sisters came and bore her, dressed in false skin, into the dark waters.
 
The Collector of October History


My voice is harsh as I sing a hymn to open the gateway. For tonight’s expedition was dreadful; my bag is heavy and the humans are still loud.


The gateway opens and esurient energy swells upon me... then more noise.


“Be quiet” I scream passing through converted into abstract.


A second more and I have returned… but something feels wrong.


I call for guidance, but hear only laughter.


I had dropped my bag in passing.
 
Justice Exquisitely Sensual Undoubtedly Severe

The day is ghastly dark. But it suits the job. Most of the Emperor’s men do not like this duty. For me; it’s a treat! I love to hear the curses and cries of those condemned.

This one, disappointingly, says little. They said he was a king; still, blood oozes, death looms. It’s too soon for me. He gathers himself to speak. Hopefully, I listen. “Father, forgive them.”

What kind of a trick is this?!
 
Twice the Trick, Thrice the Treat

The old baker had finished the cake. It was divine.

On one side of his door came a knocking. On the other touched his flour-dusted hands.

“Trick or Treat!” squeaked a small ghost.

“Here you are,” said the baker.

The ghost’s eyes lit up, “Wow! Is it all for me?”

“Yes,” said the baker; “Happy birthday.”

The ghost frowned, “It’s not my birthday, silly!”[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
The old baker chuckled, smiled kindly, “I wasn’t talking to you.”
 
Tricked for a Treat

The dead greenskin spread its stench admirably, a breeze from the lake carrying its odour towards the tiny village.

Soon enough, a Brownie in his plate armour rode his wolf out to investigate.

A splashing noise, a deep breath, a gust of fire, slurping noises and seconds later only molten plate remained.

The dragon, scales dripping and glinting, licked his muzzle, ready now for the real treat. Tamed wolf tails was a delicacy for dragons.
 
A Chance Meeting


Slowly she crept to the front door, with every step a chill ran through her bones. Something akin to fear, yet pleasure at the same time.

The pathway seemed to stretch on forever, but step by step she persevered. Sweating she reached for the knocker, how it un-nerved her.

KNOCK.... KNOCK.... Knock….

The door slowly opened. Heat spilled from the hall, confronted by Him, that familiar grin. She never had time to say the words…….
 
Pork oddity


“They were already swine before I intervened,” the sorceress gloated at the sole untransformed. “Not only did they assume they would be banqueted despite this being a poor island, several of them took advantage of my servants without even asking.”

Truth, doubtless. After weeks at sea, hospitality seems boundless and automatic. And these were common sailors, no nobility.

“I entreat you, Lady Circe, undo your trick, else make me one with them.”

Poof, Oink…
 
Happy Jack

Jack was alone now. Tormented by the visions of violence cruelly bestowed upon his kin. And all he could do was smile happily.

Izzy was the first to go. Her light stomped out with no remorse. Her remains left only as footprints leading to where Carl now rested. His light, extinguished by a brick to the face.

With no way to show his sadness, Jack stared and smiled, mourning the deaths of his closest friends.
 
The Eternal Optimist

Have you ever tried to train a three-headed dog which has a taste for live flesh? It’s hard work. I need it to rollover so I can escape this hell hole.

The trick is trying to get all three heads to pay attention at once.

The treats... when I can get them, well, they don’t stay still! Can’t say I blame them. I’d run too.

Oh well. I have an eternity to practice. Now then...
 
The dead don't always die


It certainly wasn't my idea of fun, waking up dead with an arrow protruding from my throat.
Blood glistened, fresh on my hand as I reached for the wound.
I knew immediately that I was most definitely dead. People who are of a living persuasion generally don't have a gaping hole in their chest where their heart used to reside.
Oh well, such is life... or death, as the case may be.
 
A Guided Tour with the Artist


In here's my latest piece- 'Trick or Treat'. The titles an allusion to an ancient ritual.
Why, yes, I did model it on a carousel! The victims are caged and span around. The music stops and boxes open above each cage, dropping their contents.
See?
Mostly napalm. Other times acids, spine-grubs, sentient viruses, a blade that dissects yet keeps one alive. Cliches, admittedly, but...
Anyway, thats one half- Treat.
The other half's downstairs...
 
Three sides to every coin

He removed his silicon facemask allowing his exoskeleton to glisten in the moonlight; he understood Halloween costumes.
He knocked at the door. Slowly it opened.
In his deepest electronic voice he asked the question.
She peered at him through cataract clouded eyes.

‘Not tonight thanks.’

The door closed.
The answer did not compute. He had given her a simple binary option and yet she had chosen neither trick nor treat.

Damn these confusing human customs!
 
Trick and Treat


“Go away,” grumbled the old man in the faded pink cardigan. “I don’t have any candy.”

Johnny gazed up at him sadly. “I don’t want to play a trick on you, mister.”

“Get off my damn porch!”

***

Maggie smiled at the boy on the porch. “Wow, I’ve never seen those before. New?”

“I just got them next door.”

“Gilbert?” Maggie snorted. “Annoying grouch.”

Johnny smiled, stroking a faded pink wrapper. “I thought he was sweet...”
 
Halloween isn't just a Child's Game

A rap at the door interrupted his reading. Another rap and a shout of "Choclit!" forced him, grumbling, out of his chair and to the door.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, you're that magician! Trick!"

He surveyed the three children - ghost, Frankenstein and fairy; "Will that get rid of you?"

"Yeah!"

With a sigh he turned the ghost into hundreds of wrapped chocolates. The other two children pounced. He went back to his book.
 
The Prototype

One more turn. There! Finally completed, it rests comfortably in my hand. Now, to test it. But where? People would notice if my house disappeared.

The doorbell rings. It's the fox, the ghost and the witch, sacks open. Again.

"You've been here already."

"Have not." The fox, I think.

"Get out of here."

"Weirdo." They turn to leave.

"Wait." I smile. "I have the very thing. Just....don't open it until you get home."
 
The Future’s Biological

With no more ore to mine or process, creating items of technology required new approaches. Sylvia Holzmann, ever a rival to Mother Nature, manipulated DNA. And today, of all days, she’d produced the goods: a handy conjured up out of wood.

She couldn’t call it a cell phone. Half her potential customers associated the name with now-defunct lumps of plastic. Then she hit on the answer: the XylemPhone. (Another wonder devised by Tree Core Treat™.)
 
Turning Tricks

The lieutenant scrutinised his appearance in the mirror and adjusted his dress. After checking his make up one last time he turned and left the safety of the bathroom and entered the packed embassy banquet room. He strode purposefully through the crowd only stopping when he reached the Ashjan ambassador. For the sake of all mankind he prayed that these damned lecherous aliens really couldn’t tell a human woman from a man on sight alone.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
One Man’s Trick

"Old man Wickwhistle’s place!"

"He’ll never answer. Egg it!"

Inside, the eggs smashing against the door and windows caused Wickwhistle to cease sharpening the carving knife. He placed it besides the tenderising hammer and flashed a fang toothed smile at the women, gagged and bound to high chairs.

"I knew your boys would use eggs." Gesturing to the array of tools on the table, he added, "Though I’m partial to a spot of scrambling myself..."
 
'Hold on, man - we don't go anywhere with "scary," "spooky," "haunted," or "forbidden" in the title.'

“So you haven’t seen them at all?”

Officer Hardy looks at me hopelessly, drained by the flood of calls that have poured out of his radio since nightfall. He rubs his hands together to ward off the cold.

“Why don’t you come inside, officer. Warm yourself for a second.”

He smiles, touched by my concern, and steps across the portal.

I’ll drive his car out of town tomorrow.

No-one’s left to notice.
 
In Space No One Can Hear You . . . .

*crackle*

CODE: DISTRESS CALL

This is Captain Sam Huin, of the A’Loeen.
We’ve been pulled through a sudden wormhole.
We don’t know where we are.

There’s something stalking the ship.

We’ve lost seventeen passengers and five crew.

There’s only six of us left

We can’t see it. It doesn’t register on the sensors.

It just calls out . .

*Trick or Treat?*

Oh God. It’s coming!!

Please. Oh God, No! NO!!

*slurp*

*chuckle*

END

*crackle*
 
Status
Not open for further replies.

Similar threads


Back
Top