July 2022 - 75 Word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO THE JUDGE!

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Christine Wheelwright

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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 2022 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, 23 July 2022
Voting ends at 11:59 pm GMT, 28 July 2022



We ask all entrants to do their best to vote when the time comes but you do not have to submit a story in order to vote as we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing the winning entry.

The Magnificent Prize:

The Dignified Congratulations or Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers and the challenge of choosing next month's theme and genre

and

The option of having your story published on the Chronscast podcast next month!

Theme: The Outsider

Genre: Open (Choose your own genre!)


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, as 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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What’ll it be, Mister?

The saloon doors burst open and a dark figure stood silhouetted against the brilliant midday sun.

Merv, the bartender, froze mid-pour. Stirrups rattled as the outlaw began a deliberate walk towards the bar. Chink. Chink. Chink. Merv resumed pouring, tried to play it cool, but his hands shook. A drop of sweat ran down his nose.

The stranger brushed his dusty overcoat aside, and sat. In a gruff voice he said, “Glass of milk, please.”
 
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Wedded Bliss

Today is our day, our special day.

You look at me, eyes shining with happiness, with love, speaking your vows with unrestrained emotion.

Enjoy this day My Love. Eat, drink and be merry. For tonight all changes. Tonight is my time.

For the boy you sought to wed is no more, I have usurped his place. And you see nothing!

And tonight, my newest love, we dance together, down below in the Houses of Hate.
 
Boo

The ghost was standing in the corner, observing the party. The hostess eventually noticed him.

"Mr. Ghost," she said, "You'll find that I'm not afraid of ghosts as most are. Neither are my friends.
Dobbs is not here, so may take his seat if you like."

Her guests muttered in agreement.

The ghost approached them timidly and took the chair.

"There you are," said the hostess, then addressed the rest, "Let's drink ourselves some blood!"
 
A night at the cinema

  • Meursault Bungalow was feeling down
  • He’d just received the death sentence
  • It was the talk of New Kinnegad

Well, I don’t care what people say, I think he’s an innocent man.’

‘Think what you like, I know a murderer when I hear salacious information third hand.’

‘What information?’

‘He went to the cinema to watch the original Star Wars. And didn’t even like it.’

‘The fiend.’

‘Indeed, only a cold hearted killer dislikes the classics.'
 
From the Inside

Looking out into the courtyard, the Handmaid watched as the Forester brought the venison to the kitchen.

What was it like to be outside the mansion? To live in the wild unfearing death.

He washed his hands and poured some ale.

Warmth and comfort was inside, but afraid of those whom her Mistress trusted most.

He raised his flagon to her with a smile.

She blushed and turned away, dagger in hand. Longing to know.
 
Rebound

Pulse and flare of fairground neon spilling across dark puddles. Dull lustre of gunmetal in my hand - too obvious to be real. I passed through the throng, invisible, divorced from their multi-media awareness.

But, no, not alone.

She stood a few yards away, oblivious, with her entourage of phantoms. I was the cast aside inconvenience; retconned, erased, airbrushed from reality. Our ‘circle of friends’ now a wall raised against me.

Well...

Knock, knock.
 
Circling Towards a Drain

I’d often sit admiring the knitted coaster.

My neighbourhood hadn’t accepted me. I’d find hateful detritus on my doorstep – plastic tarping, likely deriding my polycarbonate skin; oil for my artificial joints.
Once, rain swept Mrs Hansen’s kitten towards a storm drain. I hurried and snatched it as it disappeared.
I knocked at Hansen’s house. She grabbed the cat, slammed her door.
The next day the coaster was on my doorstep.
The detritus also kept coming.
 
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View Through a Window

Look at them. Drinking, dancing, laughing, flirting. Inside there is warmth, light, the mingled scents of sweat and perfume. Oceans of blood under their hot skins. Out here there is only darkness, ice, and my hunger.

There is one who hears my silent plea. She turns away from her lover and stares at the glass between us. Open the door, child. Invite me in. Quick, before the sun arrives to destroy me, before I starve.
 
Revenge is mine in the end.

I sat with my girlfriend in a posh restaurant. The waitress kept flirting with my girlfriend. I was upset, that I became extremely angry. Then things got even worse, I was served with rubbish food. While my girlfriend was served the best.
Then as I asked for decaffeinated coffee, no milk. The waitress gave me normal coffee. It could have killed me.
I walked away like an outsider leaving my girlfriend to pay the bill.
 
CONVERSATIONS OVERHEARD AT THE NECROMANCER GUILD BAR AFTERHOURS, no. 211


Tcchk!


Meemo let the bubbles tickle his lips. Gribbald just fingered his cider and sighed.


"It's the wife. She keeps bringing home her stinkin' zombies"


"Hmm" replied Meemo, mid-glug.


"I can tolerate the lumberin' about and moanin...'"


"The wife?"


Gribbald paused, holding his head in his hands.


"It's the smell, pal. I can't take any more of her rotten mates"


"Have you tried opening a window?"


"And let MY undead escape?! Not a chance!"
 
City Vacation.

I went to the city, I visited the sights.
I snuck into the Palace. I prowled the halls, explored the rooms, stole food from the kitchen.
I saw the Queen; she didn’t sit on her throne but an ordinary chair.
I glimpsed something dart under her chair.
I gave chase to this intruder, a scream filled the air, a hand grabbed me.
“Cats belong outside”, a voice said as they threw me out the door.
 
Order for Mr Palmer

The barista here's excellent.

She makes a perfect cappuccino — once, today at 11.16am.

I beat Lake to it, yet again. He's fuming as he enters. Emerson arrives much later, hoping to appear nonchalant.

I outmanoeuvred them, two years from now, in the pandemic lockdown, ensuring they missed their transit windows. Ironic, how often time travellers arrive late.

Leaving, I thank the barista — people don't always see their own achievements.

Or remember my fake name.
 
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I’m Marrying a Monster From Outer Space

“Preposterous. You shouldn’t even interact with it, let alone marry.”

“But mama, we love each other. He has a beautiful mind and promises to show me his world, Earth.”

“What of the physical differences, daughter? They’re ugly; all bumps and appendages. You’ll be unable to extrude offspring.”

“He’s a scientist and can splice our DNA for progeny. Please say yes.”

“Very well, but perhaps don’t tell it that you’ll absorb it for nutrients after conception.”
 
A Memento
We in the Edgecountry know the risks, yet I still let a stranger in. He looked miserable and I felt lonely. I fed him soup and lent an ear to sad tales, never realizing that he was from the outside; the Unstate. A being of altlife and dismatter. A rememberist seeking tokens of nonsubstance. Later, as I stood in the soft light of dawn, he left and my shadow went with him.
 

Outside?


We meet at the endless fence each day, speaking different languages, touching fingers through the wire.

“I’m sorry you’re on the outside,” I say.

Soon she will surely sicken, though she looks healthy now. The calm before the storm, no doubt. I, on the other hand, have a nasty cough.

Eventually I make myself understood with gestures and expressions.

She shakes her head sadly and draws in the dirt. A circle; her within, me without.
 
My Baby Boy

When Alexei was little, a kiss from me would make everything right again.

He was my world, and I was his, it was just the two of us.

All I have now is his medal, that’s all, Alexei never came back to me.

He died for the Motherland, a true hero I’m told.

When people say I should be proud, all I feel is sad.

I’m so lost and alone, in world without my Alexei.
 
Hanging Around

I see them, but they don’t see me and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. Why do they have that music so loud? I can hardly hear myself think. Why can’t they have more consideration for their neighbours? Now what? Ugh! That’s disgusting and the window open too. Oh, great, now they’re lighting up. Here comes the filthy smoke to choke me.

‘Wait! What’s that buzzing? Oh, hello Mr bluebottle welcome to my web.’
 
Not There

*Chng!*
A music box.
I remembered.
*Whhssh.*
I turned.
The wind swooshed past the window. Dinosaur wallpaper and a bunk bed.
I remembered.
Hearing a noise, I turned.
*Mumble…*
“…do you ever want to move back to… …?”
The child shook its head.
I remembered this!
The door creaked and I touched the blinds.
*Sshchhh*
“Waaaaaah!”
Screaming, crying, the child ran.
“What?”
“There’s something in my room.”
I was there. I WAS ..there.
I still remembered.
 
The Enduring Hardship of Social Class in the 26th Century

No time, they said. I watched as the long-haul freighter pulled away from the space elevator.

Ship crews were exclusively Highborne; oh, the stories they’d have! Always too busy for a visit, though.

Agro-worlds were mostly automated, even here on the Fringe; only I was stationed here. Interesting work, but it does get lonely.

I looked at the plate of uneaten cookies. I can make another batch when they return in six months.
 
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