August 2016 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO STILLEARNING!

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chrispenycate

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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: and no 'like's in this thread.


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


All stories Copyright 2016 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, August 23, 2016


Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, August 28, 2016


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:


Benevolent

Genre:


New weird



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.

 
The Spider Lady

She often walks the streets with tarantulas in her hair, money spiders in her eyes, smiling with spiders in her teeth.

She's the Spider Lady. Her house is covered in a swarm. She wears a dress of web, covered in a wriggling arachnid blanket.

I always shout across the road to thank her, too scared to go too close. Because of her, I've never seen a single spider in my house.
 
Wishing Well


A tease is all it takes, and don't forget to say please.

The toothbrush sunk with a delightful bubbling, purple waters lapping like hungry tongues. The dark ones enjoyed his taste. Shame, so did his secretary.


I clamped my headphones on as he goes to clean himself up. Creep and clacked the lock shut, crimson leaks from beneath the door.

Heartbreak Hotel hummed in my ears as I carve another notch into the bedpost.


 
Promote the General Welfare

Mallin and Tay enter the Licensing Office. The line snakes down a flight of stairs. The clock hisses at them and flutters its wings.

"I wouldn't want that job," Mallin says. Tay infuses her with anxiolytics. "Do you remember when we came here to be bonded?" Tay injects Yes.

The paperwork is tricky. Tay boosts Mallin’s intelligence, giving her a headache.

They are approved. The State is good. Tomorrow they will have a child.
 
A trip to the Linear


It shot me was shooting, is shooting, will shoot , didn’t shoot and wasn’t going to. To it, it is was, is will be, will not be shooting me and hadn’t and had shot me. It couldn’t understand that it would not and would and will, is shooting me, it sees and it will see existence as only … the word will not doesn’t and won’t translate. To them each action is unique.
 
Volant


His memetic wings were hummingbird agile as he darted through electric alleyways, but butterflied open to land him.

“You’re late,” coughed the woman on the ground. Sodium shadows outlined viscous blood cooling in and around the hole in her.

He bent over the woman, unfurled the white wings of his calling, cradled her in them. He consumed her last breath, then laid her down. All that she was settled in his mind, preserved.
 
Heyday

‘Everything I’ve ever wanted, I’ve taken with my own hands. When the Moon Children came down the ladder, I stood alone and turned them back. Fought the Sewer Lords, the Reaver, the Twins, and left them with nothing. Then I dragged the Ageless Kings from their thrones and ruled this city. Even the gods feared me.’

‘Of course they did love,’ she says. ‘Now I’ve put this weeks meals in the freezer, OK?’
 
Mr Benevolent they call me

With a hug I collect your misery and with a handshake I drain your stress.

With a kiss I steal your guilt and with a stroke I take your grief.

I am there when I'm wanted and then gone when I'm not.

Your thanks are not needed and your praise a waste of breath.

Your drab suburbs are my platter and your pain my nourishment.

Many names you call me but Mr Benevolent, my favourite.
 
What Horton Heard

"Climb high and help us....." called the tiny voices of uncertain origin. All she could feel was pity and benevolence towards them.

As she scaled the branches, her heart filled with warmth.

I am selfless. I am good.

At the top of the tree, she found others. Their mouths were open in silent screams, dead and decaying. The horror shot through her.

Who's thoughts are these?

Her mouth opened and their spores burst forth.
 
Spare the Rod

The Mould Breakers were out again – the clay men have been smashing kilns for weeks now. Dissent is in the air these days. Even the coal golems have started refusing the furnaces.

My seneschal looks anxious. He thinks I’ll take the news badly.

“Call out the Constabulary. Have them deploy the Worrisome Soul.”

His eyes widen but he doesn’t argue. He shuffles away, shaking.

I don’t know why he’s worried.

It’s for their own good.
 
Planet of the Drapes

I stepped onto the planet and was greeted by a python.

“Welcome to the planet Drape,” he said, without a hiss.

“Ah, thanks.” What a hospitable race.

I wandered through the streets seeing more and more wonders.

A horse auctioneer. A monkey selling fruit, but no bananas. An owl tutoring a man sized rat. “There is no try,” he said. “Do or not do.”

Now that was the most unsettling thing I’d heard. So far.
 
From Riches to Rags

Solar winds billowed the Silver Liberty's canvases.

Robin tapped the gold-filled chests. "John's subjects need to eat too." She smiled back at the king's tailor, egg-faced on his rudderless vessel.

"Captian, 'm pickin' up a signal. On the scanners." Mr. Astrand pointed starboard.

Robin extended her plasmascope, recognising Lord Aggleman's boy immediately; their previous mark. Bloodied, disowned strapped to a distress beacon and cast adrift.

Robin sighed. "Mr. Castleman? Hard to starboard."
 
Trashmen

Eugene dropped the garbage cans by the street. Where's Tito? Hadn't that mutt followed him?

He heard rumbling.

Trashmen coming.

He hurried inside. They arrived, greenish gray, slimy, emitting yellow gas from numerous orifices. They scooped cans, spitting them empty.

"Yip!"

Tito!

He watched in frozen horror as his yorkie poo sniffed a creature. The beast pivoted, stooped and sniffed Tito. Then it turned and slogged away, leaving the street sparkling clean in its wake.
 
Mercy From the Watchers in Space

Gigantic, galactic, purple Mushroom People, could not bare to witness us humans fighting among ourselves any longer. They helped solve all of Earth's problems, by sending millions of humanoid robot, plush animals to do the job.

#

Two generations passed. Our pleasant, other worldly, gargantuan friends finally helped humankind to be self-sufficient. Every household had a hologram room. No one was ever bored, education and peace soared within everyone. God definitely works, in mysterious ways.
 
The Pit and the pent up son...

Solitary confinement. A beast of a punishment!
But the old man was like that in those days.
I was only showing off. Love moves in mysterious ways, you know.
Anyway, there I was all chained up and gasping for a beer and a toke, when this bearded dude lifts up the lid and hits me with a waft of frankincense.
'Come on out', he says. 'Father's forgiven you.'
Now that's a revelation!
 
World-Saving Commodities

The heroes are marched back into their cages: elf mage, orc warrior, dwarf rogue, human paladin. With the Blood Witch slain, Goblindom won't need their prized pet’s services for a while, hopefully.

The heroes go back to their training regime and controlled protein portions—plenty of milkshakes for the mage. Sugary drinks amplify magic, she says. We suspect these are lies. We’ll let it slide. Their next quest could be at any time.
 
Ohm

“Can I whip the god, dad?” his son asked.

The boy was old enough now, he supposed.

They went out to the shed together. The god hung chained against the wall, a grossly-misshapen creature. Once, gods were beautiful but that made it harder to hurt them.

Immortal beings with infinite compassion; the cables connecting to the energy grid pierced its skin.

“Go on,” he said, handing his son the whip. “Fill us with love.”
 
The Ultimate Gift

Concentration came easily now. The Royal Lance began to heat, electrons gaining charge from the surrounding air. Soon, hairline sparks skipped along its length, larger ones appearing too, flashing between the ornate handle and Fuji's gloved hand.

Beneath him, the fractured skyscraper lurched forward another metre.

He would have to put his entire Source into the spear to pierce the Baros heart. But to succeed meant more for the world than his life was worth.
 
An old secret...

Stan never squashed flies: “One day,” he said, “one will be a disguised djinn, and grant me three wishes!”

His wife, Amanda, sighed and kissed the old fool.

Stan smiled mischievously: “Amanda…. I’m a Djinn and, for your decades of kindness and tolerance… I grant you three wishes.”

Amanda smiled:

“Do the dishes!”

He did.

“Clean the bathroom!”

It happened.

“Take me… to Mars.”

Stan’s fingers clicked.

Suddenly Amanda was standing on red sand…
 
Brushing close to an inconsiderate commuter. Kissing the hand of a corrupt priest. Greeting a drug-dealer on the filthy street corner. With each surreptitious touch, he gifts an infinitesimal shaving of his soul.

Shunned now by all who see his pale, sickly demeanour, he nevertheless finds a way to approach and touch the worst, the selfish, the evil of the city. Willingly giving away his self to redeem the falling remnants of humanity.
 
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