February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE -- VICTORY TO MOSAIX

[George Ian]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

Re: February 2014 - Seventy-five Word Writing Challenge

Spandau Ballet 1914
From high above, Death admired the frantic elegance as bullets tore through the beauty’s frame; the alliance of barbed wire and gun creating a precise harmony.
The music within this boy had been much admired since he marched away to war. To the delight of his comrades and the silent watcher, he had laughed and danced his way to the front.
This night Death would have the perfect partner – and she would dance until dawn.
George Ian 19/2/14

 

[crystal haven]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

Stepping out

Every dancer wanted to be in Mistress Ann’s Academy. Exams were passed with honours. Every dance contest won. It had become an embarrassment to the organisers: there was only going to be one outcome.

Mistress Ann just smiled and collected her dancers’ shoes for safe keeping. Only she knew the secret of the Academy’s success.

“Be still now,” she told the shoes, placing them in the cupboard. “Be still now, until you are worn again.”

 

[SleepyDormouse]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

The Dancing Nymph

The young nymph danced as she twisted and wove her way through spring green saplings. Sparkling droplets cast rainbows as she leapt barefoot over gurgling streams and butterflies flocked around her golden hair in clouds as she twirled through flower meadows.

Skipping she made her way back to a small wooden building, then paused and hopped foot to foot as she examined the closed door.

“Are you still in there Zeus? Hurry up, I’m bursting!”

 

[stormcrow]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

Goat


Dub dup; a dub dup

Antler drumsticks rattle on deerskin drums, echoing across the torch lit clearing.

Dub dup; a dub dup

Reed pipes skirl and the Ring Dancers wheel in time. Cavorting; anticipating their fulfilment.

Dub dup; a dub dup

Bitter smoke stings their eyes; vivid shadows whirl and reel about them.

Dub dup; a dub dup

Bound to this tree in ivy cords, I offer myself - naked.

Dub dup; a dub dup

 

[The Spurring Platty]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

A Courting

Blind Mother sat with hands touching the stage, head angled in a listening pose.

No one in the court made a sound as his lithe frame glided over the mosaic floor. Boards of intricately arranged rare woods resonated with each jump and step. His costume’s bells and baubles added purposeful notes to the floor’s song with every deft movement.

Blind Mother stood, a tear running down her check.

“I remember you, my love.”

.

 

[Boneman]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

Beginnings​

They should be in the correct positions, she thought, and arranged them accordingly. They pleased the eye and resonated a barely-perceptible hum.

Perfection

Ordered, so they would reflect her.

Free, so they could refine themselves, reflecting their own glory, merge with hers.

But they were so... boring.

She swirled, pirouetting, leaping, prancing, her laughter echoing as she scattered them in the dance.

The planets came to rest.

Their chaos was so much more... satisfying.

 

[Culhwch]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

One Last Dance

It was an old song, born of stars and woven by time, ethereal yet earthly. When she danced, it seemed she danced not with the music, but within it.

‘Dance with me,’ she whispered.

‘I cannot,’ he said. ‘I am bound to this plane.’

‘We are none of us bound.’ She reached out a hand. ‘The song is freedom.’

So he danced.

---

On the monitor his heartbeat quickened, briefly, then faded away.

 

[The Judge]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

Lady of the Dance


I glimpsed her first at Herod’s court, behind Salome’s witching veils. I burned for her dancing-dark embrace; she laughed and denied me.

I pursued her across the years, among the frenzied writhings of the maenads, in the spider-bitten delirium of the tarantella, the lethal ballet of the lion-dance.

I am age-old now, bone-weary; more than ever I yearn to dance with her.

She is Death. And still she denies me.

 

[TheDustyZebra]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

The Agony of Defeat


“Nobody's ever reported searching in this area.” Bob consulted the map.

“I can't see why. It's prime territory.” Pete pressed “Record” on the camera.

Suddenly, they were surrounded.

Creatures extended hands, inviting.

Bewildered, they dipped and whirled, tripped and twirled and tangoed, until fur and sweaty darkness turned to solitude at dawn.

Pete pressed “Delete” on the camera. “I didn't see anything. You see anything?”

Bob crumpled the map. “We weren't even in the area.”

 

[Ursa major]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

.​

A Rite, Dance and Song​

Her husband, silhouetted against the daylight, crossed the threshold. He stopped singing. He mustn’t look back at me.

She ran forward in silence: crying out would seal her fate.

Why had she danced with those Naiads on her wedding day, drawing the wrath of the Gods? If only she were as nimble now.

She sprinted along his shadow, which narrowed as he turned.

Almost there...

His single, loving glance returned her to the Underworld.

.

 

[Ursa major]

Re: February 2014 -- SEVENTY-FIVE WORD WRITING CHALLENGE

The Challenge is now closed to new entries.


You can vote here:

Poll - February 75-Word Challenge​