3 For Thursday Week 8 Voting is now over. Results coming soon!

Here are this weeks entries.  Great week, seven fantastic stories!

I love this photo!  Thanks Jen!

Blind Challenge

The Dragon and the Girl

By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6

Dragon

Arthur stumbled, his head suddenly swimming with disorientation. As the pigeon took to the air, reality seemed to blur and shift.

The bird transformed, its wings becoming fibrous and long as it took the shape of a dragon.

Arthur’s arms trembled with fatigue as he drew back the great sword preparing to strike. The movement felt natural and practiced. His calloused hands matched perfectly to the leather of the sword’s handle, worn familiar from long and constant use.

And then it was just a pigeon flying overhead.

Arthur paused, bewildered. On his hands was a scent. Leather.

Lurker
Arthur leaned against the brick wall he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The hair on his arms stood on end and his hands shook. Strangely, the muscles in his back and shoulders ached as if from some strenuous activity.

“Damn,” he swore quietly. “I haven’t even been drinking!”

Pushing off the wall he started down the sidewalk, the vision still vibrant and visceral in his mind. The sun was low in the sky as the end of the day approached.

Passing by an alley, he heard a sound. From the shadows lurked a small girl.

She wore chainmail.

A Woman Full Grown

As Arthur approached her, she stepped out from the shadows.

“Halt!” she said in a commanding voice, her hand raised over her right shoulder and grasping the pommel of what appeared to be a sword as tall as she was.

Arthur froze in his tracks, raising his hands in a surrendering fashion. And then his heart skipped.

In the late afternoon sun he could see that he had been mistaken. She was no child. She was obviously a woman full grown. And beautiful.

“Are you the one called Arthur?” she demanded.

“I am.”

“Then you must come with me, now.”

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═══Speed Challenge
Morning Break

By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6

The dragon soared into the air, the infant prince clutched in its talons and Kronan the All Conquering knew he had only one chance. Should he injure the child or cause the dragon to harm the child in any way, it would cost Kronan his life.

Without hesitation he drew back the great two-handed sword, and heaved the glorious blade skyward as the terrible beast’s wings beat the air, climbing.

Sunlight glinted off the blade…

The shift bell sounded interrupting Raymond’s daydream. With a sigh he shuffled back into the plant with his co-workers as the pigeons reclaimed the sidewalk.

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Bones Scraping

By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6

As she finished the spell, she listened intently in the night. The only thing she noticed was her own beating heart as it pounded.

“Damn it,” she said out loud. “That should have worked.”

She sat for a few more minutes, waiting. Finally she decided to call it a night.

As she moved to stand up, an odor invaded her room. It reeked of sulfur and rot.

The hairs on her arms stood up and her pulse quickened.

A voice like bones scraping from the shadows lurked and shuffled.

“I am here,” it said as it moved into the light.

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Pommel

By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6

Leigh al Boros grasped the pommel of her saddle with both hands, straining as the drake raced down the valley, rolling and twisting with joy.

Leigh laughed out loud, encouraging the dragon.

“On Tarron, on!”

He was one of the smaller ones but his speed rivaled even the largest war beast. Leigh’s raven hair whipped across her face, stinging, and in the cool autumn air, her teeth began to chatter.

Suddenly she was in shadow. Turning to see the cause, her breath caught.

War dragons, their giant wings blocking the sun as they made their return to the castle.

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Classic Challenge

Regulus, Slayer of Dragons

By Sheilagh Lee @SweetSheil

I couldn’t believe my eyes on the opposite side of the street I saw a sight to behold. Most people seeing him saw a nerdy man with glasses in a blue checked shirt and loafers; I with the gift of my third eyes sight saw him for what he really was a slayer of dragons. As I watched from the shadows lurked a dragon. I continued to watch; even with my third eye the sight before me was unbelievable for the man seemed to hide all of this from human sight. People walking by would see him strolling and a bird flying overhead not a man fighting a dragon. The man however raised his sword holding tight to the pommel he struck out at the dragon. The dragon gave great fight as I watched in horror the dragon struck at him producing his own sword. Who knew that dragons too fought with swords? The swords clanged the sound resonating in my ears yet no one on the street but me stopped and stared. The dragon yelled
“I am Odysseus. I am the oldest dragon alive. Do you think to slay me mortal?”
“Know me well Dragon .I am Regulus and I will send thee to thy doom Odysseus. Have you not wondered why your number has dwindled?”
The fight continued the swords tips cutting flesh in both dragon and foe. I grew frightened who would defend us from these unseen foe if not for this hereto unknown Regulus?
With a breath the dragon blew fire .Regulus produced a shield and with a movement not unlike a tango, Regulus danced across and deftly found his target piercing Odysseus’ heart ending the dragon’s life. Regulus turned to me finger to his lips and disappeared never to be seen by me again.

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Shadows Of The Past
By Jeffrey Hollar @klingorengi

Nearly-forgotten battle reflexes guided Daigon now.  After nearly ten years of anonymity and living in quiet
obscurity, the Shadow Realm was coming for him.

He expected as much. He had been a Blademaster. He had sworn life service to the Realm. He was Soulbonded to one of the powerful and ancient Shadow Dragons. A commitment without compromise, he had broken that Oath. It was a betrayal that could be neither overlooked or forgiven...ever.

He was not defenseless here. A Blademaster's armor and sword were bound to him for life. Two nights before he had confirmed he could still bring forth those gifts if needed.

Concentrating, he felt the overlapping scales of his armor form about him. Nearly impenetrable yet so
weightless as to not hinder, he knew its metallic caress well.

The comforting weight of his Blade completed him. Long as a tall man, the blade was a full handswidth wide. It was feather-light and unbreakable.

The true beauty of the weapon lay not in its blade but in its ornate pommel. A gilded claw held a flawless smoky-red gemstone. The stone drew on his Soulbond. It empowered him with the speed and strength and even the fire of his bondmate. It was an unmatched sword.

Walking home that next evening, he wondered who they might send for him. He considered and discarded dozens of names. In the final analysis, it didn't much matter. He would NOT return to the Realm without a fight.

He sensed the threat before it crossed from the Realm. He armed and armored himself with a thought. From the shadows lurked a massive, scaled form. It was Liasastis, his dragoness bondmate!

She would offer no quarter nor would he expect any. As she dove in her attack, he met her...blade held high.

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Penelope's Way
by Lisa McCourt Hollar @jezri1

"Edmund was on his way to see Princess Penelope. From the shadows lurked, Goldwing, the dragon that had killed his father. The beast was watching the knight, waiting for the opportunity to strike when..."

"The princess leaped out of the shadows and ran him through with her sword!"

Gaylord sighed. "Penelope, who is telling this story, you or me?"

"You are."

"Then let ME tell it."

"When daddy reads to me, he lets me change the story."

"I'm not dad."

"I know. Daddy would never put a dragon in the shadows. How can a dragon lurk? He's huge."

"It's a small dragon."

Penelope snorted. "Edmund deserves to be eaten, if he can't see a dragon in the shadows."

"Maybe Edmund is thinking about Princess Penelope."

"I told you, I don't want to be a princess. I want to be a knight and carry a sword with a magical, crystal pommel."

"Well in my story you are the Princess of Unicorns and Rainbows." Gaylord grinned at his sister and attempted his most evil laugh.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "In that case, I want to change the story."

"You don't get to change the story."

But Penelope wasn't listening. She was holding a crystal gem; one of those glass things they sell at novelty stores. Only Gaylord noticed this gem looked different. It glowed when she held it.

"Where did you get that?"

"I found it. It grants wishes."

"How cute," Gaylord smirked.

Penelope whispered into the crystal, "Dragons are real. They live in the shadow realm."

On the wall a shadow of a dragon appeared.

"What the...Penelope, what did you do?"

Penelope smiled. "I like this story much better." Penelope whispered into the crystal again. She and Gaylord disappeared from the room and two new shadows appeared on the wall.

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Now Go Vote!

#3ForThursday Stories
	The Dragon and the Girl @redshirt6
	Shadows Of The Past @klingorengi
	Morning Break By @redshirt6
	Regulus, Slayer of Dragons @SweetSheil
	Pommel @redshirt6
	Penelope's Way @jezri1
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3 For Thursday Week 7 Vote for Your Favourite Entry

Here are this weeks entries.  Great week, three fantastic stories!

Blind Challenge

NaNoWriMo PARTICIPANT: From my NaNo Story, tentatively titled The Heart of a Demon. My main character, Leteh, is a demon who had been imprisoned for 3 centuries in stone atop a chapel because he'd fallen in love with a witch, Selena. When he is released after being hit by a stray spell during a battle between demons and witches, times have changed and Leteh must navigate a world he doesn't recognize in order to understand the war that is beginning and just what is at stake.

The Heart of a Demon

By @jend_author

“Have a seat, demon,” said the tavern keeper.

His eyes traveled over Leteh’s frame, reading his powers. It left Leteh feeling exposed and dirty. He heaved a sigh of disgust at the necessity for this meeting before squeezing his hulking frame into the chair.

“Wine?” the man asked, holding up an ancient bottle.

Leteh shook his head once, a grimace on his face.

“A shame.” The tavern-keeper sneered. “I’m told the malolactic fermentation in this vintage is to die for.”

“I’m sure,” Leteh grumbled, rolling his eyes at the man’s barely hidden innuendo. “Tell me what you know, Vidente.”

“Touche.”

“So you know about us,” the man said, pulling up a chair opposite of Leteh.

The demon nodded, watching as the man lowered himself into the chair awkwardly.

“You can call me Del Cross.” He held out his hand which Leteh ignored. “I know about you.”

“Yes, everyone knows about me and my … sordid history.”

Del chuckled darkly.

“Where’s your witch now, eh?”

Time seemed to stand still as the tavern keeper’s chuckled died and Leteh’s red eyes blazed in anger. Del knew his mistake, and shrank back away from the demon’s rage.

“Tell me what you know. Now.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Del insisted, earning a growl from the demon.

“I want details,” Leteh barked. “Who’ve you had contact with? What side are they on? And where will they strike next?”

The old man’s eyes grew hazy as he took in Leteh’s hulking form and fierce voice, but a smile grew on his face unexpectedly.

“You can keep up this travesty of an inquisition,” Del said slyly, “or you can just ask me your real question.”

Leteh’s face blanked for a moment as Del’s smile grew wider.

“Selena,” Del whispered.

Leteh knew he’d won.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Malolactic Hope

By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6

“'Malolactic',” he said again as he had been all morning. “'Mal-o-lactic'. Malo-lac-tic'.”

“What is your fucking problem, Haygood?” Sergeant Delane asked. At five feet tall with jet black shorter than his, she turned him on but good.

“It just sounds so, I dunno', sexy,” Haygood replied. “Heard it on a vid.”

Sergeant Delane glanced at him, slung her M16 over her shoulder and, in passing, grabbed Haygood's crotch.

“Just so long as you're thinking of me when you say it.”

“Wilco that, Sergeant,” he replied. “Wilco that.”

She smiled and kissed him.

When They Met

Whenever he stared into her eyes time seemed to stand still. 

It had been three months since he’d come south to Atlanta but the fighting was still going on. Private Haygood hadn’t planned on falling in love, but hey. Plans. 

They’d met in a bar brawl in a shanty set up in Piedmont Park. Everyone was drunk and he could tell the attraction was mutual. He bent over and kissed her, catching her off guard. That’s what started it. She’d kicked his ass but good.

She’d straddled him on the ground, boot knife at his throat, and kissed him back.

Hope

He was only private and she was an NCO, part of the chain of command. So technically they weren't supposed to be fraternizing. But this army, noble as its goals may be, is really just a travesty of a real army. 

"So Sergeant," he asked as she released his crotch, "what are you going to do when the fighting is over?" He hoped but didn't allow his mind to actually formulate what.

Sergeant Delane looked away for a moment and then looked back at him. 

"That's just it, see," she said. "I don't think the fighting will ever be over."

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Classic Challenge

NaNoWriMo PARTICIPANT: Alana Bachman returns to a hometown she left as a small child when she inherits her grandparents' house in a sleepy New England town. As she adjusts to the peace of small town life, things begin to happen that make her question her sanity. Strange whispers and odd dreams haunt her as she finds out the truth about the accident that claimed her parents' lives when she was a baby and the danger that is around her now. With the help of her neighbor, David, Alana learns the truth about her family, about David's, and the power inside of her.


The Grapes of Wrath
By Miranda Gammella @MLGammella

Alana had been known to enjoy a fine bottle of wine from time to time, especially after a hard day. Nothing was harder than moving across the country to Wardville, ME to her grandparents’ old house. After all the boxes were open, the linens changed, and the house aired out, she aired out a bottle or two of her favorite pinot grigio. It did quite a bit to settle her nerves over the move and starting over.

When the voices and the whispering started, she found that a nice cabernet did the trick to drown them out. Somehow, the strange whispers and odd visions didn’t seem quite so scary when she enjoying the aftereffects of malomactic fermentation. Sharper flavored wines were all fine and dandy, but the smoother varieties created an effect she quite enjoyed: when time seemed to stand still.

That’s what made what happened next such a travesty.

Her time of enjoying nothing at all was cut short by the reappearance of the man who had been following her. Now, time seemed to mock her as things seemed to speed up just to slow down. Everything was distorted. The man seemed to rush towards her only to stop. Alana screamed, her voice broken and slurred, as she tried to get up and run or do anything to flee.

It seemed her favorite variety of fermented grape juice was seeking revenge on her. Alana stumbled and tripped, her face covered with tears, yet the man approached. She couldn’t see his face, but the blackness surrounded him and evil trailed in his wake.

Just as his cold yet burning hand caught her arm, she woke. Alana furiously looked down at her arm, only to find a burn in the shape of a handprint right where the man touched her.

@MLGammella

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Now, Get Your Votes In!


Polls close sometime on Monday(ish) Wednesday, due to Issues at pollcode messing up my poll

Week 7 Entries:
	The Heart of a Demon By @jend_author
	Malolactic Hope By @redshirt6
	The Grapes of Wrath By @MLGammella
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3 For Thursday Week 6 Vote for Your Favourite Entry

Here are this weeks entries.  Great week, fantastic stories!
There were five entries this week but two were blind challenges and three were speed challenges which is awesome!  I hope Miranda doesn't mind that I entered here first part of her blind story as a speed challenge  (she missed the prompt in part II and pulled herself out of the running), I thought the first part worked as a stand alone story.  There were no classic entries this week.

Blind Challenge

His Beloved

By Siobhan Muir @SiobhanMuir

Dearest Cynthia,

I miss you so much, it feels like my heart has stopped beating in my chest. Each breath I take slides into my lungs with the sharpness of broken glass and my ribs hurt with the effort. When you left to go visit your folks in Saskatchewan, I thought it would only last a couple of weeks, but as it turned into months, the time has dragged me through my days like I’m trudging through sludge. My whole body aches with the effort to move. Waking up is almost as painful as dreaming of you with me.

Yesterday, Mrs. Crenshaw pruned her roses for winter, the ones you love so much because they smell like your perfume. Every breath I take is full of your scent when I walk past her yard waste bags warming in the waning sun of autumn and it brings tears to my eyes. I cry so much from your absence my eyes sting like I致e washed them in vinegar and my abdomen cramps with my sobs. The scents of you and your little Chihuahua Kinzey are slowly fading and I scour the corners of the house for little mementos of your presences.

I’m surprised how much your absence affects me and what a difference it’s made now that you aren’t here. My house is so clean it sparkles and the stench of unwashed canine and dog shit is gone when I walk through the door. I don’t find random hairs woven into my mustache; my couch is free of the fur that works its way into all my good dress pants. I’m breathing easily for the first time in years and your decision to stay home longer warms my heart. I’m sure your parents are thrilled. I know I am.

 Sincerely, Kurt

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Gone But Not Forgotten
By Cara Michaels @caramichaels

Dear Graham,

So I write those two words and realize I don't know your first name. Stupid, huh? I think I knew you for all of 30 minutes. Maybe not even that.

I'm still recovering from that night. From Carlisle. The docs say the scars won't be that bad, but I needed to tell someone I’m fucked up. Something changed inside me and nothing's right now. I don't know who I can trust.

Except you.

I just wanted to tell you that I wish you were here. I wish I could know you better.

I wish you were alive.

-Kelly

"This is stupid." I wadded up the paper and tossed it in the wastebasket. Sitting in a hotel in India sweating my ass off and writing a letter to a dead cop didn't fix me or anything else in my life.

Every breath I took ached through my whole body. Whatever Carlisle had infected me with would not let go, and my entire world view skewed unpredictably. The sight I relied upon to show me the hidden truth blurred, faded, shorted out without warning.

Safety lay now in anonymity.

If they didn't know me, they couldn't find me.

I hoped. 

A knock on the door followed by a garbled voice saying something that could be mistaken for "room service" interrupted my pity party.

"Wrong room," I hollered.

A firmer knock rattled the door.

"Okay, fine."

I grabbed my Sig from the nightstand, holding it at the small of my back. Cracking the door, I eyed the tall man rocking mirrored sunglasses and a mustache that Magnum P.I. would envy.

"Can I help you?"

He lowered the shades, revealing laughing blue eyes.

"Kelly, I'm wounded," he said in a heavenly English baritone. "You've forgotten me already?"

"Graham?"

"In the flesh, beautiful."

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 ═══Speed Challenge

The Letter

By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6 

My Dearest Wife,

I will be brief. If you are reading this then my life has ended under suspicious circumstances.

I discovered the plot you and your lover had concocted. It was truly inspirational! I would not have lived much longer anyway, but I guess you couldn’t wait. Youth, always in such a rush.

By now your fingers are surely burning as a result of the contact poison in which this paper was soaked. Fear not! The antidote is available to you.

It is in the same location as the murder weapon you buried.

My regards to Sheriff Wimbsley please.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Breath
By DL Thurston @DL_Thurston

Every breath I take is one more gone. Right now they're coming fast. Because the creatures are coming fast. A few more breaths will get me to cover. A few more will give me time to fight back. Just a few more breaths...

Hands on my arms.

Teeth on my legs.

I fall and the breath is knocked out of me. So few left now. I kick at them, but I know it's too late. The stupor already flows through my body. My brain screams against the infection.

They leave.

I get up.

I walk.

Even with no breath left.

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Preparation for War

By Miranda Gammella @MLGammella

Dear David,

When I moved here a few months ago, I had no idea about who I really was or the truth behind my family. You have helped me discover so much. I will always be thankful for your presence in my life, even if is only for a short period of time.

After we searched the archives yesterday, I finally realized what I need to do to defeat the destroyers … but I have to do it alone. I know you will probably think otherwise, but this fight is between them and my family. I have to do this.

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Now, Get Your Votes In!

Week 6 entries
	His Beloved-@SiobhanMuir
	Gone But Not Forgotten-@caramichaels
	The Letter-@redshirt6
	Breath-@DL_Thurston
	Preparation for War-@MLGammella
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Polls close sometime on Monday

3 For Thursday Week 5 Vote for Your Favourite Entry - CLOSED

Here are this weeks entries.  Great week, fantastic entries!

Blind Challenge

The Undying Fountain

By Cara Michaels @caramichaels

Death summoned me, and I welcomed Her embrace.

I'd dealt in the games of life and death, cheating the latter so often that She claimed me with brutal vengeance.

My voice gave out before my screaming.

Trapped in the wreck of my dying form, I watched him poke at me. Please end this. I’d soiled myself and my innards painted the room in bloody bits of tissue and bone.

The pain shrieked through me, drawing a silent cry from me.

My body twitched, a danse macabre of involuntary movement that made him smile.

Let me die.

Not yet, She whispered.

Fear pulsed through my veins, a tattooed beat in time with my heartbeat. Forgive me, Father, for I have—

Sinned? She finished. Yes, you have. That black hole you call your soul needs to offer up a bit more than repentance. You want forgiveness? You start here. Now.

You take the place of the one you would have traded for more life.

Now you suffer.

Her silky laugh brought tears to my eyes.

He noticed and renewed his devotion to my death. He prodded. Sliced. Cut.

Dear God, please don’t let me last.

God won’t help the likes of you.

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.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 ═══Speed Challenge

Trick or Treat

By Sheilagh Lee @SweetSheil 

Fear pulsed through her veins and she hid behind a gravestone it was coming... whatever it was. Fog was rolling in great all she needed was to be able to see less. Stupid teens, thought it was macabre. That’s probably all it was dares for Devil’s Night.

“I’m going to kick over a gravestone come help me Fred.”

That was it I might let them come into the graveyard but I was not going to let them destroy it.

“Trick or treat boys” I screamed

They paled and ran sometimes it’s good to be a ghost.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To Dance Forever

By Siobhan Muir @SiobhanMuir 

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 that night with 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.

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Classic Challenge

To Dance Forever

By Siobhan Muir @SiobhanMuir 

“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?”

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Don't Mess With That Chick

By Charles W Jones @ChuckWesJ

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

@ChuckWesJ

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Broken Hopes

By Stevie McCoy @theglitterlady

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
@theglitterlady

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Now, GET YOUR VOTE ON! POLL IS NOW CLOSED

3 For Thursday Week 4 Vote for Your Favourite Entry

Here are this weeks entries.  I took the liberty of giving two of the entries a title as the author did not provide one :D

At the bottom is a place to vote.  The story with the most votes will win the overall winner, the Blind Challenge entry with the most votes will win the Classic Challenge.  As there was only one entry for the Speed Challenge @theglitterlady is the automatic winner.  TAKE YOUR PRIZE!

There were no entries for the blind challenge this week as I think I messed up the scheduling for it, my apologies for that.


Blind Challenge

Power of Words

It was heavy handed and definitely hegemony, how could the republic of Paul have done this to me? Paul was a killing machine knocking people off at will. A serial killer who is trying to get into my mind so I can understand him, he continues to fill up pages of dialogue as he encounters different people and hides in plain sight. He lies skilfully, and I learned to lie too. This morning was the last draw he’d killed my neighbour Penny... or rather I John Morgan had .He used my hands to carve her up. She’d complained too much about my dog and Paul had come out to play. My next door neighbour’s body needed to be disposed of and I chopped it carefully in her bathtub placing all the parts in garbage bags.as Paul directed. It was all out of hand Paul had to be dealt with swiftly but how was I to deal with him? How does one circumvent an entity that takes over your life bit by bit, inch by inch through words? I pondered this as I disposed of Penny’s parts in the river tied to cinder blocks and as I drove home. I rushed to my computer determined to have him die by death by cop in the story. That would silence his voice .I began to type and the next thing I knew I was trapped within my body and you, Constable Bates, were at my door. You don’t believe me? I grab your gun and it goes off, blessed peace overwhelms, the voice of Paul is silenced. I feel myself floating away to eternal peace but hear
“Goddamn it you’ve wounded me, just a flesh wound.” Paul says “but at least that whiner John Morgan has died.”

@SweetSheil

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Breaking Through to Freedom

The Council sat together in a dark room surrounding a round table, somewhat reminiscent of Camelot but not so friendly. This was a hegemony, a dictatorship. There were separate countries with their own rulers, but they all kowtowed to the Council.

The Council read the minds of everyone, every thought, every idea. They instantly knew when someone was planning something they did not approve of or allow. No one in the world could have an independent thought without the Council’s approval. Yet they tried, brave men and women who wanted to free themselves from the shackles of the Council’s grip. Those that tried, died.

Unless someone found a way through the heavy-handed grasp of the Council.

Triton always knew he was different, but didn’t quite understand why. He was simply a private person, no more, no less, not willing to share his feelings or thoughts with many, even if it wasn’t for the Council. However, this translated to him being able to shield his thoughts from the Council, a discovery he made quite on accident.

He tested his ability again and again, and yet he lived. A plan began to take shape, a plan to circumvent the power of the Council once and for all. Slowly, he prepared, waiting for the right moment to strike. Finally, it was time to break the Council and give freedom back to the world.

The Council’s chamber was relatively unprotected, their folly assuming they would know of any attack before it happened. Triton stormed the room, destroying the Council and the sensors they used to control. Suddenly, the world was free to think, free to dream, free to be. Now everyone’s thoughts were private, just as Triton’s.

Triton returned to his home and waited for the world to wake up to its freedom.

@MLGammella

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 ═══Speed Challenge

The Voices Within
Circumventing the voices was only an afterthought. They were after all a part of me and who I’ve become.
“It’s unfortunate that the loudest voice I hear screams for your company tonight.”
“You don’t have to do this.” She whimpered back to me.
“You didn’t have to charge for your company either but we do what we must.” I stuffed the gag back in her mouth.
It’s not ladylike to puke out vile sentiments of love when her affections were just a show for hegemony. Heavy handed I stroked her soft hair.
Don’t lie to me.

100 words
@theglitterlady

May the Voting Commence!!!!!!

#3ForThursday Stories
	"Power of Words" by @SweetSheil
	"Breaking Through to Freedom" by @MLGammella
	"The Voices Within" by @theglitterlady
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Just a note:  @theglitterlady was the only speed challenge entry so she will get this:

3 For Thursday Week 3 Vote for Your Favourite Entry

Here are all of the entries this week for your voting pleasure:
Blind Challenge
Hero

By @SweetSheil

He was once someone’s father. He really hadn’t wished any of this upon himself. He had fought in the war come home to find his wife had moved on. She didn’t want to hear about the war. He had lost his children too to another man. He’d pulled himself together gotten a job at a factory and then the recession had hit. He’d been laid off. He lost his home and then the flashbacks had come. He was once a hero but now he was a derelict on the street a man people averted their eyes for.

His world had come crashing down; there was no one to save him. He gave himself to the bottle and it took over his life. Now he was to see this counsellor at the Salvation Army to try and get his life back on track but did he really want that? The nightmares of war still came despite the bottle to black it out. He had nothing, that’s the way he liked it wasn’t it? What was there to be sober for? He’d play the game and get a bed for the night. The door to the counsellor’s office opened.

When I saw the woman standing there I was petrified and almost turned and ran.
“Dad?”
“Mary?“
“I’ve been searching for so long and here you are...”
I was smelly and just off a drunk and she still hugged me. In that moment I was reborn.
I’ve been sober for six years now. I spend time with my grandchildren when I’m not working as a counsellor myself. I went back to school and got a degree in counselling to help others like myself. I live with my daughter and my grandchildren to them I am a hero. I’m reborn.

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Searching Down into the Deep

By @MLGammella

The two surveyors examined the exterior derelict hulk as it floated, its orbit slowly degrading as the gravitational pull of the planet below pulled it down.

“What do you think, Maverick?” Henderson asked through the comlink.

“I think this is a ancient piece of spaceflot. I have no idea why Chambers thought anything was going to be salvageable,” Maverick answered.

“Must be something important inside,” Henderson commented.

“Perhaps,” Maverick agreed. Personally, despite his dismissal of the hulk of metal at his feet, he was intrigued.

Aspects of the ruined ship matched one that had gone missing decades ago, the Nautilus.

Maverick and Henderson cut through the docking plate on the ravaged hull of the ship. The titanium torch made quick work, allowing the two men to finally enter the ship.

The dock plate didn’t come crashing down as expected. With the main power either off or not functioning, the grav system and life support was useless. They needed to find the main power grid.

“Chambers, we’re in,” Maverick reported.

“Roger, that,” their commanding officer replied.

After finding and opening an access panel, Henderson manually opened the inner door of the airlock.

What was on the other side was totally unexpected.

“Holy hell, Maverick. Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Henderson asked.

“No,” Maverick responded. “Although, I’ve heard rumors about what this could be.”

Activating their anti-grav boots, the men walked through the airlock toward the petrified artifact in front of them.

Maverick kept his distance from the object. The glint of bronze along the wall caught his eye. Carefully, he brushed the grime away.

“It’s the Nautilus,” he whispered, realization of what the artifact really filling him with dread.

Maverick looked over a moment too late as Henderson approached the artifact with his hand extended.

“Henderson, no!”

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 ═══Speed Challenge

Home Sweet Home

By @MLGammella
The house stood, waiting for his return. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice the faded shutters, the broken windows, or the peeling paint. The overgrown grass hid cracks in the foundation.

The house waited.

Strange men came and ripped the copper pipes from the house, leaving the house with gaping scars.

The house was shamed.

It was a derelict. He wouldn’t want to live there anymore.

But yet, he returned with a smile, his old, blind eyes not seeing the ravages of time. With a caress along the doorframe, he shuffled in to its welcoming shelter and rested.


The house was redeemed.

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Pure Hunger

By @theglitterlady

Damien came to her in the waking morning; who would suspect his shadow to be cast in sunlight versus the translucent beams of the moon. Every step deliberate not to keep himself hidden but to keep hope hidden in the Earth’s dirt from scuffing his Italian shoes freshly waxed with the sweat of tortured souls.

She sits on the edge of her bed delicately lit by the stripes of the window blinds upon her peach skin.

He doesn’t have to wait any longer.

Soon his lips will crash down on her and everything that makes her pure will be his.

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Underground*

By @redshirt6

The day the Paris dome fell, ruptured by a derelict satellite falling, it seemed as if the whole world came crashing down. The poor who had been forced underground for the better part of the last century were suddenly in control. Those living above ground, once exposed, had only one place to go: underground. But the underground was full. It was a simple matter of blocking access from above. No one had ever dreamed that the wealthy would desperately want to get into the underground.

As word spread around the globe, other cities fell, and the world was changed forever.

*I came up with this title for voting purposes, -DRL

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Classic Challenge

Flight

By @MLGammella

The petrified body came crashing down through the derelict house from the attic, the rotten wood finally giving way. The body, a shriveled, gray thing, laid motionless, staring up into the heavens, hoping for answers that would never come.

↓NOW VOTE↓

Your Favourite Story:
	Hero - @SweetSheil
	Searching Down into the Deep - @MLGammella
	Home Sweet Home - @MLGammella
	Pure Hunger - @theglitterlady
	Underground - @redshirt6
	Flight - @MLGammella
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The winner will be announced at the start of the next 3 for Thursday!