February 2015 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO TELFORD!

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Jo Zebedee

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#1
RULES:

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme and genre in no more than 75 words, not including the title

One
entry per person

NO links, commentary or extraneous material in the posts, please -- the stories must stand on their own


WHEN WRITING YOUR STORY, PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A FAMILY FRIENDLY FORUM


All stories Copyright 2015 by their respective authors,
who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here


The complete rules can be found at Rules for the Writing Challenges

Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, February 23 2015

Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, February 28 2015



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/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers
and the challenge of choosing the next month's theme and genre



Theme:


Carnival, festival and all things Mardi Gras

Genre:

Magical realism


 

Mr Orange

Rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb...
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#2
Magic Trick


“Cha cha cha cha cha CHA! Oi! Did you just pull me from that conga?”

“Sorry, no, yes… Welcome to carnival magic street! See giraffe? I make disappear!”

“Giraffe?”

“Oh… Aparacer!”

Poof!

“See giraffe? I make disappear! Desaparecer!”

Foop!

“Cool.”

“Worth dólares, no?”

“Where’d it go? Hidden trapdoor?”

“Is… Magic!”

“Real magic?”

“Yes!”

“Oh… So no sleight of hand, no skill to it, just magic?”

“…Yes?”

“Pfft, lazy spell busker. Go learn some proper tricks.”
 

Hex

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#3
Sponsorship

"C-C-Come on!" I sing, wiggling. "Join the Coca-Cola Carnivale!"

The current twists our float (ha!) through streets running with cola, like the CEO demanded.

Wave to a paddling dog, a pink-dressed girl swimming, laughing--

Then the CEO -- dressed as a bottle -- grabs my bum and squeezes.

A BIG wiggle (swing those hips, baby!) and he's in the coke, screaming as a sudden whirlpool sucks him down. Schloop!

I grin. Keep waving, keep wiggling.
 

Ashleyne

Queen of Rainbows
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#4
DEVILS DON'T DANCE


I hate crowds. People dancing and cheering like idiots at the ugly parade floats. It's pathetic.

“Now, Sebastian,” says mother, “don't be giving me the eye. We' gonna dance the devil out of you, boy.”

A float of an over-sized dragon goes by. I swear I can hear it say “Let go.”


A glow tickles my tummy. I smile, tearfully, for the first time since I can remember. I find myself dancing, feeling free.
 

ddawson

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#5
One Last Time


“Maggie!”

“Melee!” she cried crawling from her hideaway, leaping into the gnome’s outstretched arms nearly knocking him from his stilts. “My last year?”

“Yes.”

They ran the streets dancing, invisible ‘cause of others costumes. Filth fell from her face and clothes from sheer joy.

In the end Melee was gone. Replenished, she dreamed of the future while wishing she’d stay young forever.
 

Cascade

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#6
Masquerade
The clouds gather, oppressive in the afternoon heat, and make ready to drop their lanquid cargo on these gaudy streets.
My beard is wet with sweat. My shirt sticks to my skin.
I hear the horns and flutes and drums of the coming revels, swept up in passing rhythms.
A scantily dressed Colombina swivels past, her lashes fluttering at some other beaux.
It will not serve.
I put on my mask, and am become Harlequin.
 

Dan Jones

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#7
The Angel And The Devil

Neon flickerings frame fractals of fairylike figures against the night.

Drums.

We’re all moths here.

All but her. She is a butterfly, lost from daylight. I see her dancing with a devil.

I spread gossamer-thin paper wings and move to knock the horns from his stupid head. They don’t budge.

His eyes burn me, and he disappears with a grin.

Now I am dancing with her. Neon fluttering.

Drums.

We’re all devils here.
 

Luiglin

by day Stuart Orford by night Dark Lord's scribe
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#8
All the right moves

The Dark Lord glided across the floor, the Fat Tuesday Grand Ball in full swing around him.

Within his arms, Ulzarta, the drow Princess smiled, her ice white eyes sparkling with unexpected warmth.

"You dance sublimely my Lord," purred Ulzarta, "and your mask, Google Glass I believe, very now."

He forced a smile in return; mind focused upon the tiny display before his right eye where the Minion's hand expertly mimed dance steps.
 

holland

caught in a trap, can't walk out
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#9
Don't fall asleep on the Night of the Living...


"... you'll never wake up. That's why the festival lasts all night."

"An old wives' tale, for sure". I lean on the counter and drink my coffee. Tastes like whisky.

"Where did everyone go?"

PROBUDI SE.

"Who said that?"

PROBUDI SE.

"HEY, WAKE UP!" Somebody slapped me.

"Thanks man, I almost dozed off", I said and kept dancing through the air.

"No problem, bud", replied the drum and kept banging.
 

Juliana

Juliana Spink Mills. "No capes!"
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#10
Boto

He emerged from the Amazon’s waters, one moment gleaming dolphin, the other man and hunter. There she was, whirling drunkenly amid the revellers.

Carnaval. Suor e sangue,” he whispered. Sweat and blood, and Ana’s scent: cheap rum, hormones and the faintest whiff of cinnamon.

He drew her away. Her eyes widened. “Boto!”

But the dolphin kissed her once and she was his, down on the riverbank in the sucking mud and drowned debris.
 

Jo Zebedee

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#11
Fat Tuesday, it's flipping fab


The first one's tricky. Dad's eyes crinkle, concentrating on the steady stream of batter. The surface pit-pits and it's time.

"Flip it!" we yell; he tosses it in a perfect one-over.

"Cartwheel!" Jenny takes the pan. The pancake turns one, two, three times on its edge, along the ceiling, and lands back in the pan. In all, we manage 30 flips and 3 new tricks, a family record.

Then we eat them.
 

Michael Colton

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#12
All That Dust

“Knock over the cups and win a pixie, step right up!”

“Can we, can we?” Amanda looked expectantly up at her dad.

“Honey, you already have a closet full of pixies. Why another one?”

“Timmy said his pixies can beat up my pixies! That one looks big!” She pointed at one hanging on the wall, hopping in excitement.

“Well, okay, but this is the last one until we get them a proper cage.”
 

Anne Martin

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#13
Infinite Recursion

Arriving in a gold box, my bejeweled costume revealed far too much skin for February, but I looked gorgeous, so I stepped out into the Carnival crush. A troupe, dressed exactly as I, danced in unison down Ladbroke Grove. One pulled me into the midst of them.

When we looped back towards my flat, someone handed me a gold box, saying in my own voice “Deliver this to number 42, and pray for entropy.”
 

Victoria Silverwolf

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#14
The Disguise

The last time he attended one of Don Benedicto's masked balls, Doctor Scarapelli lost his heart to an lady who turned out to be a mechanical contrivance, a lovely creature of springs and escapements. He was determined not to play the fool this year.

During a stately minuetto he was engaged in conversation with a woman of lively wit. It was only when she removed her feathered mask that Scarapelli realized she was a mirror.
 

Cat's Cradle

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#15
This is Our Day

Astral projections cavort on all sides
as I spin and I glow as I dance with my bride
on this twice-precious day granted once every year
by the humans who bind us with foul charms we all fear.

Soon I waltz with a poltergeist whose usual chores
are to levitate laundry and open jammed doors
and tomorrow enchantments will force us all home
but tonight we are free so through Bourbon we'll roam.
 
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Kerrybuchanan

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#16
The Flame of Love

Feet dangling over the edge of the float, Astrid blew on her raised palm.

The dancing flame changed, growing into a flickering harlequin.

He leapt to the ground, taking her hand to pull her into the wild dance.

Together they whirled, and costumed revellers, laughing, ran away from the heat of their passion.

The first gentle drops of rain hissed and spat as they touched him.

Bereft, lips tingling, she stood shivering in the crowd.
 

Remedy

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#17
17:00

Numbers blur my screen; some billionaire’s accounts.

Tie chokes my neck like the cubicle chokes my soul.

Lazy bubble ascends the water cooler and the clock ticks to infinity.

Blessed hour approaches, yet I feel I'll never leave the grey.

Finally she arrives; Cassandra from HR.

GET FABULOUS AND GO HOME!

Confetti pours from the sprinklers.

My trousers are pink flares.

Shirt replaced by golden waistcoat.

And we conga out the office to drums.
 
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Locksmith

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#18
Magic lantern

"Annie!"
Sheltered in the tent, my cry is lost in the rain. The gaudily dressed crowds have vanished with the downpour. Annie's gone too, and I rue our harsh words.
***
"I wish I had a different family!" Annie yelled. Had the traveller behind her smiled?
***
"Annie!!!"
The slotted cylinder spins behind me and an endless loop of shadows dance on the rippling canvas. In silhouette, a long-haired girl climbs onto a carriage, and rides away.
 

willwallace

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#19
Beads



A bell tinkled as John entered the shop off Bourbon Street.

“Can I help you?” the wizened woman behind the counter wheezed.

“Um, I, um, need a transmogrification potion.”

“Ah, let me guess, for Mardi Gras?”

John nodded in agreement.

“And I suppose you want to become a number of small, round objects strung together?”

“Yes, yes exactly!” he exclaimed.

“Get out of here, you beader” she screamed.

“Pervert” she muttered as he ran off.
 

Teresa Edgerton

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#20
A Wicked Pack

Kim held her breath, as Madame Sostris, portly in carnival colors, spread a worn deck of cards.

The figures rose up, thin as paper dolls, and danced.

A man hanging upside down. "Suspense. A difficult decision."

Lovers toasting with brimming goblets. A tower, falling, falling. "Two likely outcomes."

A fair youth with a staff. "The obstacle to your deepest desires."

Kim began to type text into her cell. She knew what to do: dump Jason.
 
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