Oct 27, 2011

3 For Thursday Week 5 Prompt 3

3 For Thursday
Week 5 Prompt #2
~~ congeal(ed,ing,s) ~~
~~fear pulsed through (his/her/it's) veins~~
  1. gruesome and horrifying; ghastly; horrible.
  2. of, pertaining to, dealing with, or representing death,especially its grimmer or uglier aspect.
  3. of or suggestive of the allegorical dance of death.
This Contest Starts at 1:00
Contest Ends at 2:00 (for the Speed Challenge and for the final part of your story for the Blind Challenge)
You have one hour to write 100 words including this phrase.
The Classic Challenge starts now and ends in 11 hours!  300 words using all three prompts

-----3 Ways to Play-----
 ═══Speed Challenge
Make this prompt a 100 word stand alone story in this hour
Blind Challenge
Start a 300 word story, writing the first 100 words during this hour using this prompt then adding to it as the rest of the prompts come up (without altering what you have written).
Classic Challenge
Wait for all three prompts then write a 300 word story including each of the provided prompts, for this you have until midnight EST!

For Full Rules Check Here

Don't Forget to add your twitter handle and/or email address below your post and give your story a title too (for a 300 word story you can finalize your title on the last entry)

If you're having issues posting feel free to e-mail me: D.RyanLeask@gmail.com


  1. To Dance Forever

    “Macabre? Why does everything in October have to be nasty and congealed for the flash fiction challenges?” I shook my head as I clicked on the different links. “Same stuff, different blog.”

    “Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” my sister remarked.

    “Says you who LOVES the dark and slightly frightening.”

    “What, did you only want to write about flowers and butterflies?” Linda scoffed as she typed another 100 entry like a pro.

    “No, but it’s all the same, you know? Dead things and blood. What about the more mystical?”

    “Fine. There’s always cemeteries.”

    I sighed. “Yeah, cemeteries and ghosts.” I grabbed my coat and car keys.

    The Dance Macabre; the dance of death. I’d never seen it. Visiting cemeteries at this time of year was something my Spanish teacher in high school liked to do for Dia de los Muertos, but no fear pulsed through my veins then. Nothing happened in cemeteries. They were full of dead people. Big deal.

    But tonight in the mists wafting off the cooling grounds, I caught sight of a pair of apparitions wheeling between the headstones in a stately waltz and rare excitement and wonder zinged through me. The couple winked at me as they passed, then they were gone.

    I sat down with the thump, ignoring the damp soaking into the butt of my jeans. Wow, how cool was that? I rested my chin on my knees and wondered what it’d be like to be loved like that; loved so much my honey would dance with me through the mists of death.

    “I’ve missed you, dearest.”

    I twisted around at the hollow voice and stared into night sky eyes of a handsome man dressed in a tailcoat and cravat.

    “You’ve missed me?” I squeaked.

    He brushed my cheek gently. “Shall we dance?”

    300 words

  2. He captured my blood in small vials, a reverent collector of life. The ruby draughts congealed, the color deepening as they cooled. He filled one case, then two, and still I bled freely.

    Sticky fingers stroked my hair.

    "Oh, you are precious," he sighed. "So giving."

    Quaint to see this side of your little game, isn’t it? Death said. You are his captive fountain of life now.

    How long?
    I asked, the pain overwhelming all other thought.

    Until you save as many lives as you sacrificed, She whispered. Seven hundred years of life... You have quite a debt to settle.

    100 words

    (part 3 - blind)

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  4. Don't Mess With That Chick

    They locked him the catacombs under the city almost a century ago. The workers were kind enough to release and give him sustenance. He ripped their throats out and feasted on their hearts and livers; the rest he left congealing in the coolness of his underworld.

    He emerged from underground. He knew the ones that locked him away would be long gone; he would know the descendents when he smelled them. She smelled like her grandmother. He watched her for hours, dreaming of the macabre dance they would have. She felt nefarious eyes burning into her soul. She stepped into her house; a strong earthy smell filled the air. A strong arm crooked around her throat, darkness enshrouded her vision.

    She woke in a cold, dim room. He stood behind her. Fear pulsed through her veins as she gingerly stood and turned, facing her stalker. She knew him immediately from the stories her grandparents told. She shrieked denial into the darkness and leapt forward, kicking him in the face. He staggered backward and chuckled. She had spark. Again, she kicked. He grabbed her leg. Her head crashed into the floor, stars exploded in her vision. He released her leg and crouched over her.

    Without a second thought, she kicked her legs into his crotch. He gasped. She rolled as he fell. She stood, looking hurriedly around. A few pipes lay on the floor in the corner. She ran over and grabbed one. As she turned, she felt him behind her. She swung the pipe, making contact. She recoiled and launched the pipe into his head again, knocking him to the floor. She beat the pipe into his skull repeatedly, until the congealed mess of his brain oozed out. She sniffed and dropped the pipe. The clang echoed in the chamber.

    300 Words

  5. Classic: Broken Hopes
    Congealed, fear pulsed through, macabre
    My muscles congealed further with every step he took closing the gap between us. I grasped the brick wall behind me and leaned on it for support. Those eyes were golden like fresh fireworks and they were looking right at me. I remembered him from the party
    He approached and a small smile curved his red-macabre-lips.
    “You don’t look ravished at all.” He laughed.
    “Was I supposed to be?” I coughed out.
    He leaned in mere inches away from my face. Fear pulsed through my body as I smelt the fresh oils on his skin. I hoped it was paint, yet it looked so real.
    His lips crushed on mine smearing red liquid across my lips. My tongue lapped over the remnants tasting of metallic tang.
    “You smell of human.” He pulled away.
    “I am human…” I wasn’t sure I should’ve responded when the look in his eyes darkened.
    “You’ve crushed my hopes.” His finger runs along the boning of my trashed wedding dress.
    It used to be perfect, the dress, before tonight. Hallows Eve seemed like the perfect night to rip it to shreds, roll in the dirt with it and jump in the cold river to wash away the memories. Who would care about noticing a distressed wedding dress among the zombies and super heroes roaming the streets? I could go un-noticed in my anguish, I thought. But I didn’t expect to be confronted on my way back home soaking wet and staring into the still honeyed eyes of this man.
    “We’re even then.” I smiled awkwardly revealing my equally crushed hopes.
    “Not quite.” He pulled me close and tilted my head. He nuzzled deep into my neck whispering, “Tonight you give me a new vow. One that can not be broken.”
    300 words

  6. FYI - I included the prompts at the top before my actually story starts

  7. Oops... Just saw the bit about needing a title. Grr. Well, here's what's going on my blog:

    The Undying Fountain


  8. I will be posting all of the stories for voting shortly. Great stories folks!


Don't Forget your Twitter Handle or e-mail address and a title (title doesn't count towards word count)!