May 2018 75-Word Writing Challenge — VICTORY TO CAT'S CRADLE!

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Dance Of The Seven...

Salombie danced dying swan-like upon the stage.
Removing her corneum, all eyes were engaged.
Peeling off her lucidum, the crowd's blood did rage.

Her public gasped as she bared her granulosum.
All went crazy as she let fall her spinosum.
Her basale stripped away with a stroke of her thumbs.

Slowly she took off her papillare, most gory,
and shed her reticulare to great furore,
unveiling all her subcutaneous glory.
 
Dark Harbour

On the thirtieth of February the mist falls.

The Imemorium comes to gnaw upon these dark shores; to ingest the life that sails across our vast ocean, saved only by the Pathfinders lights.

Without it, they are as blind as those in utero. Sightless vessels wandering across the waves in reach of the rising leviathan.

The Pathfinder's neck makes a sucking sound as I slide my dagger out.

The beacons remain black.

He must feed.
 
THE VEIL

May sky, chocolate box blue. But step from sun to shadow and the chill strikes -- the black cold and true reality of life upon this island in the cold North Sea.

Oh: I try to walk the light and warmth. For if I slip to shadow, am I not lost of all true reason? It is the sword dividing fragile life from darkness eternal.

But then: what's darkness but the lack of light?
 
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Her

Both sides of the garden congregation waver silently, their sweaty watermelon rictuses conjoined by spiderwebbed gossiping.

They crowed we’d never last, but who’s laughing now?

The Priest’s mouth, a perfect ‘O’ above buttonhole eyes, quivers motionlessly. Donum Dei Mei. Christ, entombed, plants a glance askance.

Cadavera vero innumera!” screams the Priest, genuflecting upon my approach.

I lift Her veil, revealing Her face: a featureless, blank, fleshy balloon. I kiss Her breast, and the curtain descends.
 
Proof At Last.

Conan Doyle addressed the audience. “Tonight we have with us the renowned spiritualist, William Eglinton. He will attempt to materialise, behind these curtains, the spirit of my dear departed son, Kingsley.”

Eglinton spoke. “Low lights and silence please whilst I concentrate.”

Time passed. At last he spoke again.

“Speak! Have we, finally, the irrefutable proof of existence beyond the grave?”

“I’m afraid not. But time travel maybe.” The curtains parted. “My name is James Randi.”
 
Der Wille zur Macht

Eva awoke to the chill of a stone altar and chains. Two monks, one veiled in blue and the other red, chanted vestra culpa at one another.

A third man entered the sanctuary, accompanied by warm air and malicious smelling incense. The monks bowed as he approached.

"Odium claims this sacrifice," he pronounced, producing a bloodstained dagger.

"Sacrifice!?" she screamed. "You promised me power. Votes in the election. Stop this!"

"Odium consumes all he blesses."
 
A Lifetime

The baby yawned as her mama turned, an exhalation that was as cute as it was final. The kettle whistled as her babe died and she did not even notice.

Like the ticking of a clock, chill teeth of the dead chittered, ethereal hands reaching from beyond, to drag the innocence into the darkness.

Spectral fingers fragmented against folded wings, a cocoon of angelic wonder that bathed the babe in glory and carried her home.
 
Sherlock Bones & Frankenstein's Monster (a.k.a. Jim)

"Dammit Jim. I'm not a doctor."

"Rrrrh."

"Don't touch, door knobs."

"Rrrrh................................Fog, bad."

"Yes. But, we must find, Jack, the Creeper."

"Creeper. Creeper."

"Scotland Yard, provided me Jack's description. Hmm........ten feet tall, green, red bearded, with eight legs."

"...........?"

"It's true. He's behind you."

"RRRRH! Spider BAD!" SPLAT!

"Good show. You've swatted the Creeper."

#

"Rrrrh."

"Ah. Newspaper headlines. JACK WHACKED!"

"Rrrrh. Smash, good."

"With your tennis shoe."

"Smash good."

"Tennis shoe."

CRUNCH!

"My Stradivarius!"
 
When the Veil Was Lifted

I sat alone in the park considering what my research team had done. Opening up the mind seemed like a good idea.

Now we could hear all the myriad voices of animals, plants, even manmade objects. They unleashed their desires, complaints, and demands in ever-increasing volume.

I covered my ears.

The trees and park bench berated me.

"Yes, we know. We can change."

And the birds kept singing their bittersweet melodies.
 
Heroes Are Manufactured And Sacrificed

Heroes of the resistance! Kill the Fluffy Leviathan!

General, it won’t attack unless we provoke it.

Attack!

All of us will die. We’re unarmed.

May you live forever in heaven, Oh heroes of the resistance!

Zero chance of survival. We’re unarmed. Can we have your rocketpoop harpoons?

Absolutely not, but here are woolen veils to pull over your eyes.

And why do we need wool over our eyes?

Stop questioning the men with rocketpoop harpoons.
 
Paparazzi

The curtain fluttered in the breeze, and she vanished. He had seen her just past the window, he knew.

He crept closer. Any minute now, he'd have the shot of a lifetime. He'd be famous.

Mind, her husband might complain. And she might complain. And the police might complain.

He was next to the window now. He couldn't see her. Where was she? Where was her -

The curtain fluttered again, and he was elsewhere.
 
Title: Flying Rosebud

Mr. Sanchez walked home drunk to his annoying wife. He had too much to drink and was nodding off on his way home. He saw a bright red cardinal looking at him solemnly; not twitching. He felt he was melting to the ground. He blacks out.


He awoke but could not see. He felt little stingers tip tapping across the essence of his mind. The cardinal spoke, “I was thirsty.”

- Sum Dude.
 
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Rain

Her own ghost-pale feet were all Yanna saw through the blinding veil. "What if I fall?" Nobody was there to answer.

She didn't even know his name.

Outside, guests hurried under umbrellas, kicking water up their legs. She practiced being blind again.

It was probably time.

She passed choral coughs and raindrop silence; bass heartbeat left at the door.

Then he touched her hand, the new, other part of her, and lifted the veil.
 
Seek Not, Lest You Draw Their Attention

As my unseen captors’ chanting begins again I have a eureka moment: it isn’t Ugaritic but a dialect of Old Aramaic! Thusly armed, I grasp fragments of their guttural speech through the hood’s muffling embrace.

Master... They cannot mean me? We present… something? What is that? Offering?

Gaze upon your… That word again.

The hood is torn from my head and I look up. And up.

Betrothed.

It wasn’t a hood.

It was a veil.
 
The Jilted
‘I do!’ the woman in tattered crinolines wails, washing her lacy kerchief by the ford simmering in meadow rains.
I’d hurry past, but today her plight calls to me.
She ceases wringing winter from the very fibres of her lace, replacing her bride’s modesty over her face, and - gently - I lift it so we may speak.
But she cannot, for she’s no face; completely smooth.
And though I daren’t, I hear myself, distantly. ‘I do.’
 
Has Anyone Seen The New Guy ?

" Three finger gloves, three toed safety shoes, those new workers aren't like us " , loud mouth Jerry said.
" The boss says they're good workers, still, something's wrong" , Jerry said.
" With the safety glasses, helmet, coveralls and that face protection we can't see what they look like ".
So Jerry followed one into the locker room.
They found Jerry in a state of shock.
Gloves, shoes, safety gear all lay on the floor, but no sign of life!
 
Truly Monstrous

After the veil fell, most folks left the city. We couldn’t afford to.

It affected everyone differently, but mostly it made us all freaks. I’m a fortunate one, I guess; I look normal. I’m just a monster on the inside.

The voice is always there. Sometimes I silence it. Sometimes ... I eat.

This place, it’s too good for me. The souls here are tortured, but kind.

I’m heading somewhere that deserves me. Outside the veil.
 
The Crossing

The man ambled aimlessly amid the forest of pale wheat. Overhead was void of sun, moon or stars, so he followed the curious silver light which pulsed from stalk to tip in the crops surrounding him.

‘Lost, child?’ a voice called from behind.

‘Where am I?’ the man replied, startled into honesty.

‘Beyond the veil,’ the farmer answered with a grave smile.

The sickle cut.

His stalk fell, its light diminished.

The soul passed on.
 

The Kitties and the Cities

People hate us. Thankfully, they don’t know who we are, only what we are… an existential threat.
But I don’t look for people seeing what they mustn’t before hauling them off... for ever.
No, I retrieve cats that have strayed across the border to the veiled side. Their owners must unsee them, though they may be mere metres away. (Some cats taunt their owners, I’m sure.)
Me? I’m a member of Breach (Cat Rescue).
 
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Veil Wars 101

Reservists shuffle from the barracks like sheep. Mist already seeps from the ground. Distant rusty gates yawn wide. Our weaponised dead.

‘This here’s your undone gun!’ I shoot Fellstayne in the face. All that’s left’s a shriek. ‘And this here’s your ungun.’ I shoot the shriek and Fellstayne unveils. ‘Anything moves, shoot it in its shriek and pray you get ungunned after. Move out!’

I follow, machete for the unveiling, godgun for the culprit.
 
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