November 2015 75-Word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO STILLEARNING!

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Dan Jones

Free Omar!
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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, November 23, 2015


Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, November 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 next month's theme and genre


Theme:


THE PATH NOT TAKEN

Genre:


ABSURDIST FICTION



This thread to be used for entries only.
Please keep all comments to the DISCUSSION THREAD


We invite (and indeed hope for) lively discussion and speculation about the stories as they are posted, so long as it doesn't involve the author explaining the plot.


** Please do not use the "Like" button in this thread! **
 
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holland

caught in a trap, can't walk out
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Mar 4, 2014
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CLDVBN-3000

Feeling indecisive? Insecure in choices you make?
Have no worries, CLDVBN-3000 is here now!

CLDVBN-3000 lets you glimpse into the reality where you did divorce that witch twenty years ago, or you did buy that TV before it sold out.

Not sure whether to buy CLDVBN-3000 right now?
Try it for free, and see whether you regret not buying it!*


*only during November
 

Ashleyne

Queen of Rainbows
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Apr 19, 2014
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534
My Little Finger

I spit my little finger out. The throbbing pain in my stump feels so real.

I should probably go to the hospital to get it re-attached. Instead, I play catch with it. Each time, I throw it so hard it hits the ceiling. I miss four catches out of a thousand: 99.6 percent accuracy.
 

Luiglin

by day Stuart Orford by night Dark Lord's scribe
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Mercia, UK
Why didn’t the chicken?

“I don't get it.”

Ham, the Dark Lord’s halfling fool, sighed.

“It's a new take on the old joke, my Abyssal Dimness.”

“But why change a classic? It's a chicken, there's a path and he gets to the other side. Walking backwards away from it dressed as a troll? I mean, where does that leave the chicken? Bloody lost and looking ridiculous that's where. It’s absurd!”

Ham nodded glumly, that's the whole point, he thought.
 
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Robert Mackay

Not all those who wander... Oh, actually, I am.
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Clutch TT-2

I fly fighters from Ganymede base. I used to be good at it.

"Heller," Captain Cathcart said to me, "your performance stats have plummeted."

"Captain," I said, "I'm six months' overdue leave."

"All leave is cancelled. Too dangerous for shuttles to fly to Earth."

"When's that going to end?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "When the Aliens have been beaten back to Sirius!"

"To stop flying missions, I have to fly more missions?"
 

Victoria Silverwolf

Vegetarian Werewolf
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Chattanooga, Tennessee, USA
A Matter of Style

I was never much of a follower of fashion, so when Sondra invited me to the party I decided just to replace my right eye with an onion and my left hand with screwdrivers. I suppose I was too conservative. Sondra wore spider silk skin with gold blood vessels visible through the webbing. I spent the whole evening dancing with a boy with a yellow balloon for a head. Talk about a fashion emergency; boom!
 

Droflet

I don't teach chickens how to dance.
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The Road Too Travelled

I’m a genius. I could have been anything I set my mind to. Instead I spent my life trying to catch him. Every brilliant plan failed. Every cleverly set ambush backfired on me. And still he’s out there. Mocking me.

Now, I’m dog tired. I’m done. So I got an everyman’s job. No high adventure but also no stress, no malfunctioning equipment.

Most of all, no more beep, beep.

I still hate that damn bird.
 

TitaniumTi

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NSW, Australia
Save the Cat

Captain Chat pondered the star map. “Coordinates, Lieutenant Māo?”

“That depends a good deal on—“

“Where you want to go,” Chat finished. “Lieutenant Neko?”

“How should I know?” Neko purred. “All places are alike to me.”

Chat’s tail twitched. He glared irritably at it. Damn thing had a life of its own.

“Too late!” Māo hissed. “A S/CAT squadron is on our tail, led by Curiosity.”

Chat growled. “Bastet. Captain Schrödinger has boxed us in.”
 

Bowler1

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High Wycombe
Tax Breaks

‘A new religion you say?’ asked Thomas.

‘As religions go… yes.’

‘And all I have to do is register online?’

‘Yes.’ Smiling the disciple pressed on. ‘It couldn’t be easier.’

‘But you say,’ asked Thomas, feeling confused, ‘you already know all about me?’

‘Yes, everything.’ The disciple beamed proudly. ‘You get to set your worship levels when you register, that’s very important.’

‘What if I don’t believe in religion?’

‘That’s ok, Google believes in you.’
 

reiver33

Only Forward
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Iteration 13

“Why am I always your younger brother? Why is she always our sister? Why can’t we escape each other?” Frank sounded peeved but, then again, he always does.

We sat on stools in a dingy front room. I knew it had to be somewhere in Ladbroke Grove.

Catherine pulled the pin from her hand grenade and threw it to the carpet. I did the same. Frank hesitated, then followed suit.

Another roll of the dice.
 

Alex The G and T

Thar! That Blows.
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Extremely Northern California
A Staircase Mis-taken



Eleven steps up, right turn. Eleven steps up, right turn; ad infinitum. I’ve been climbing seemingly forever; yet the scenery remains unchanging. I see no evidence of progress.

Perhaps I took a wrong turn.

Eleven steps down, left turn. Eleven steps down, left turn; and yet again. I detect no evidence of improvement. I seem to be trapped in an infinite loop.

I fear that I’ve become a pawl in the house of Escher.
 

Mr Orange

Rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb...
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What is the question? That is the question!


Scene:

Rainforest, two paths exit stage right. ROGER THE TRIBESMAN stands centre, gyrating in a Badgerskin loincloth.


DISHEVELLED BUSINESSMAN enters, stage left.

BUSINESSMAN: Which way’s Westminster?

ROGER: One path Westminster BUT other Cannibal Village, where you welcome for supper! Haha! Ask one question, decide which way!

BUSINESSMAN: (Aside) You see, he lives down one path.

ROGER: Info! Cannibals always lie!

BUSINESSMAN winks at you, whispers in ROGER’s ear. ROGER frowns and twerks towards a path
 

A. Fare Wells

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I've been writing since the third grade.
After Life

Many tales of near-death experiences speak of seeing the room the deceased died in from above. They tell of a light at the end of a tunnel and an assurance that there is an “afterlife”. But that’s all bullsh**. I’ve been there before and this is what I saw. Nothing. No light. No God. Oh, there’s an afterlife awaiting, sure. I was conscious of it. It’s no place I am anxious to return.
 
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Perpetual Man

Tim James
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Turn Left

A momentary hesitation.

Flummoxed by the challenge Tim sat, face blank as a stone.

‘Absurdist Fiction?’ he thought (at least what passed for thinking), ‘That’s pointless.’

He hung over the keyboard like a side of cold meat in a butchers.

‘I can’t miss a challenge, I haven’t since I started…’

A shallow intake of breath, ‘Sod it! I can’t do it forever! I’m not doing the comments either!’

Tim signed out of Chrons.
 

Parson

This world is not my home
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The Circus Comes to Town

As a python wraps rings around the clown, I sit at my desk and plot long life strategy. Three parallel lines form my distinctive shape. The clown face turns red under the cloud white paint. I'm looking for my eightieth trophy. It's an impressive run. In combat time flies. Caught in three rings, the clown crashes and burns. I rev my motor and prepare for another flight of fancy. Success and life are fleeting.
 
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chrispenycate

resident pedantissimo
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Hamlet and Guidenstern kick the bucket

Flipping coin, another head
The odds are even, even now
Paths conjoin, with Hamlet dead
With future cleavin' anyhow,
Free will, we navigate predictions
Where fate's rigidity makes obligation
Our choice defines our maledictions
Negating predetermination

Distress reduces to dismember
Damsels who welcomed me, enladen.
And Rosemary we should remember
Not Rosencranky, sworded maiden,
Lost in broil of evolution
Historic figures lost now make irruption
Separation brings solution.
In richly Chronicled disruption​

 

Juliana

Juliana Spink Mills. "No capes!"
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Warts and Wisdom

I found the guru on the overgrown trail. I consulted the ancient scroll again; yes, this was the place.

The scroll forgot to mention the guru was a toad.

I swallowed my doubts and addressed it. “Wise One, lead me to my path.”

The toad opened its warty mouth and replied with a single word. “Meep.”

I blinked. “Wise One?”

“Meep,” it repeated.

To think I’d live to be meep-meeped by a toad.
 
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HareBrain

Smeerp of Wonder
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The Voice of Doombar


Trumpets blared. Gabriel appeared beside Derek’s death-bed.

‘God hath retroactively granted your wish that you'd spent less time at the office!’

Derek felt no different. ‘Hath he?’

‘Search your memories!’

Derek did, and now recalled he’d sneaked off early each day and gone to the pub.

‘And what’s that got me?’

‘The liver disease that’s killing you.’

‘But … if I was already … how …?’

‘Question not His competence with temporal manipulations!’ commanded Gabriel, and scarpered.
 

Cat's Cradle

Time, now, to read...
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That Fair Flower of Love – That Tart Treacle of Plutocracy

Back then, virgins were forced into European honeymoons.
We’d paid a gondolier for a trek around Venice, but once aboard he’d refused to proceed. Against the oar he’d leaned, carving wind chimes from chimney smoke, stopping once to shout curses at bees.
The wife – that enchanting dandelion! – tolerated insubordination poorly; once landlocked, we divorced forthrightly. I never married again.
Still, I wonder...the word ‘honeymoon’ intimates nectar and mooning, and I’d received neither. Damned Republicans!
 

Bob Senior

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Mar 4, 2011
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374
PRISON OVERCROWDING ?


The worst of us are put on a chain-gang, taken to the woods and forced to cut a trail to what they say is a "REST AREA."
The trail terminates at a sheer drop off of 200 feet.
Exhausted, we eat cold beans, then fall asleep.
Kowalski is the first one up, "we're trapped guys!" he screams.
The guards skipped out last night, took all our tools then marked the trail "ONE WAY."
 
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