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February 2011 Writing Challenge — MOSAIX!!

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digs

Thicker than water
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Cheese!
RULES:

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme in no more than 75 words
The title is not part of the word count -- or the story
It should be a story, not simply description
It can be prose or poetry
One entry per person
All stories Copyright 2011 by their respective authors, who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here.




Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, February 23 2010
Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, February 28 2010

(March 2, in the event of a tie-breaker poll)


You do not have to submit a story in order to vote -- in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner


The Magnificent Prize:

The Dignified Congratulations/Groveling Admiration of Your Peers
and the privilege of choosing next month's theme or genre




This month's theme is:

THE SONG



Stories are NOT restricted to any genre

Happy writing!​
 
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Mouse

ejtett.weebly.com
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in your face
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Snow White She-Devil

She’s like a siren for woodland creatures. We can’t resist! I’ve been trapped here now for almost five years.

I lick the plates clean. Not very hygienic really, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Sometimes I look forwards to her throwing the shutters open and singing again. More of us will get caught, yes, but at least the work is shared!

I’m selfish maybe. I can’t help it.

I heard Grumpy mention an apple…
 

HareBrain

Smeerp of Wonder
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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Fate


It haunted him: a snatch of forgotten song, heavy with personal meaning, as though a reminder of his deepest Truth. Googling the few recalled lyrics found only the blog of a girl, seeking the same. They met, puzzled over the coincidence, clicked over dinner; had coffee, sex. Told the weird story to everyone.

Months later, he remembered the title. But, no, she said. Not her song after all.

They laughed, but separated within the week.
 

sloweye

Lord Shaman.
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Copy and paste this into your browser, This say's
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

His Gift.

The rugged, scarred band of thugs brandishing their knives and clubs stopped dead in their pursuit as the victim halted and turned, a look of confusion upon their faces as the man stared back at them, took a deep breath and began to sing.

Smiles played on their lips as the greatest peace they had known filled their souls.
This was his gift and he would carry it to every corner of this blackened world.
 

Gary Compton

I miss you, wor kid.
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3,247
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Only the Good Die Young.


That song came on the radio. Last time it played I was dead; lying in a pool of blood, with a knife in my side.

My mother, dressed in black, sat crying. My father comforted with a tear.

There was nothing I could do but listen; the song told of a troubled life.

Sadly, my own was over… but wait.

A blinding white light appeared. My spirit loved ones beckoned; time to live again.
 
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Wannabewriter

Wannabewriter
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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

I was looking through the lyrics to the song 'Friend's of Mr. Cario' and based them off my story. Enjoy!

Investigation Is The Game

She came, as in the book Mickey Spillane read that night on Dark Masquerade. She spelt it out, but then, investigation is the game. As nothing happens quite the same; he had to check her story right away.

That night, pretending he was dim, he slipped Sam a gin. He woke, the boys had gone, they'd left a note to lead him on. His chase led to the Fatman; to face the friends of Mr. Cairo.
 

BookStop

If you see a stranger...
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If you see a stranger, follow him.
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Love is in the Air

“The song comes on the radio and he calls, every single time.”

“Get out! Really?” Laura leaned forward, eyes widening.

“Could be a coincidence, but…maybe not. Madam Louisa said he’d start calling, and he has.”

“My appointment is Friday.”

“Well, make sure you have something popular in mind so it gets a good deal of air-time.” Jennifer smirked, “I chose, ‘Under My Spell’.”

“Oh, that’s funny!” Laura paused, “What happens when it loses popularity?”
 

Boneman

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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Songflight

Modern medicine had done all it could.
I lay under stars. The Shaman's song came to me, calling. The clarity brought tears to my eyes, hope to my heart. They came: the rumbling bass of the great bear, the flute of the otter, the soaring of the skylark all vibrated through my tortured body. The song faded.
I looked into the Healer's eyes.
"The song is ended," I told her. "But the malady lingers on."
 

Oxman

Thread Killer
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127
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Birmingham, England
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

And The Band Plays On

“You’re dying.”

And so the song began, haunting melodies and shrill, desperate wails clawing at my ears. The voices grew louder every day; only drowned out when my own screams grew to match them.

Perhaps those whom the gods love do die young.

I’ll hold off this siren’s ballad for now, trying to charm me to a fate I cannot yet comprehend. Fire still pulses through my veins. But it’s getting harder to say “no”.
 

Brev

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B'mth
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

The Pit


Swords out, nine gathered.
Some offered nothing, gibbering, slain.
Others needlessly grunted, shouting out nasty gibberish.
'Somebody obviously needs gutting!'
Stand off's, nervous glances.
Screaming.
Oaths.
Noiseless gore.
Six only now, grappling, sweating openly, none giving sanctuary.
One, nose gushing, sways, obviously nearly gone.
Spectators observant, note gruesome slashes, others nod ghoulishly.
Snarling offensively, no ground surrendered, opponents near ...
Gouging.
Silence.
One, nihilistic, grins.
Stroke opens nasty gash.
Standing ovation.
Named; Gladiator.
 

Ursa major

Bearly Believable
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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Gunsingers of the Old West: “The Soprano Shoutout”
or “Punfight at the Hokey Chorale”


Long ago, folk at the first ‘Bavarian’ village became fed up with stuffing the ballad box, stocking songs (“liederhosen”) and lining up at the bar. They craved to see duets between All-American Meistersingers, ones quick on the drawl.

Their descant into madness began with Lee Rick’s bass-less choruses of an accusatory tenor, got verse in the barbershop, and ended in sparks as “Buskin” Frank Leslie declared, “This tune ain’t big enough for both of us.”
 

GreenKidx

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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

The Piano-man's Wife

Sara started the projector. Then, she slipped into her parents' bed and wrapped an arm around her mother's delicate shoulders.

Her father's image appeared on the wall. His fingers danced over ebony and ivory keys. His lips moved as he sang silently.

Sara's mother leaned into her embrace, as her airy soprano rose to sing the song he no longer could. Sara's alto joined it.

When they were finished; they held one another and cried.
 

Precise Calibre

Storywright
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446
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Musica Universalis

Even in deep space, isolated, music was the one thing connecting John to his fellow man. A probe he had left behind silently watched over his home; cataloging, monitoring. On a whim he had assigned synthesized instruments to each celestial body. Discordant harmony at each coordinate change – planets to moons, basses to sopranos. Each day, bizarre symphony greeted him - music to his ears.


He awoke one morning, startled.


The music had stopped.
 

paranoid marvin

Run VT Erroll!
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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Soul Music


Brief had been the song, but all those prepared to stop and listen agreed that it had been sung most beautifully, each note resonating with astonishing clarity. There were those however for whom the song held no love, and so on the day that became night, atop a desolate mount, the song was silenced; yet the reverberations remained in the hearts and minds of those who had heard it.

And so the beat goes on....
 

chrispenycate

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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Les moulins de mon core
Round
In a Bodean dispersal
Moons and planets fix the chord,
And harmonic’ly consistent
Through millennia are scored.
Rhythm section, largely comets,
Defines slow, majestic beats
Patterns flexing, revolution
Never totally repeats,
Counter melody round gas giants
In complexity appears
Repetitious, ever-changing
Is the music of the spheres
Asteroidal interactions
Universally rejoice,
On third planet, liquid water
Offers sapience a voice
And ecliptically inclined
Mighty fine the star-mills grind
As the melody’s defined.​
 

J Riff

The Ants are my friends..
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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Follow the Bluebirds

Somewhere there's music, so I've heard tell. Over there, perhaps... let’s walk on by and lend an ear.
The sound of music - no manufactured corporate puppet-noise here! Rainbow-hued minstrels, mysteriously alive in a man-made sonic wasteland.
Way station amidst the artificial din... people poorer than churchmice, yet richer than Kings. Up all night long - riding any old song...
High time I joined them – goodbye, so long!
There’s a land that I heard of.
 

digs

Thicker than water
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Cheese!
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Exodus

There's one kind of favour I'll ask of you

Little Lem's head is fever-hot against my shoulder while Pa sings the scratchy blues.

There's one kind of favour I'll ask of you


They said we'd make the final Launch if we left him. It wasn't even a decision. Today's Lem's last birthday.

We toast him with sour water. Mama says, 'We'll celebrate better on the other side.'

See that my grave is kept clean



----
Lyrics (slightly amended) from See That My Grave Is Kept Clean by Blind Lemon Jefferson.
 

RoninJedi84

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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

The Prowler


She lay naked beneath the sheets, too afraid to turn the lamp out, eyes darting, mind racing.

Outside the window! A noise? What's that shadow?

The scene was familiar...

Time feels suspended, like in a tomb.

Very familiar...

Like that song...Night...Stalker? Prowler? Something?

The figure slipped in slowly, silently.

Something's wrong.

Fear froze her, she never noticed the steel blade...

Until it was hanging from her back...

I remember...

Look out for the.....
 

Talysia

Lady of Autumn
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Oct 26, 2006
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re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Dawn Chorus

Before the sun had cast its first pale rays upon the world, the song began. Deep within the trees, the soloist, Robin, warmed up with a single note that echoed throughout the forest. Another voice joined hers, and another, and then soon the rest of the unseen choir began to sing, united in the purity of music. Their song filled the air, and the singer lifted her head towards the lightening sky, welcoming the dawn.
 

Allanon

High Druid
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Alnwick, England
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

Siren's Song

Blindly he searched the dark for that Heavenly voice. Every note caressing his soul, singing of love, deep and passionate!

Rounding the corner into a glistening cavern of starlight, he stopped. In the centre, chained to an altar, a creature of pure beauty sang for freedom. He approached hastily. She stopped as he came within touching distance. All at once, in that final second, he saw the true horror of what It was. It fed!
 
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