July 2015 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO DG JONES!

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Satan Said.

‘You said I could bring my lawyer!’

‘He’s here. Where else?’

‘You said I’d get a fair trial!’

‘You did. It was called “Your life”. That thing that flashed before your eyes just before you died.’

‘Everything I did, I did in the name of God!’

‘No, you blamed God. And He’s not happy with you.’

‘But I can change!’

‘Too late!’

‘But...!’

‘Prince of Lies,’ Satan said. ‘What part of that don’t you understand?’
 
Dressed to Kill

A touch of paint to your eyebrows, powder on your cheeks; lashes and lips, the last finishing touches. What white teeth you have.

Now the dress. Silk caresses you as it falls in waves down your naked body. You stretch and push your arms into the full sleeves. The wig is a perfect fit, ringlets cascading.

Lastly the gloves: long, shapely claws sheathed. Not a green scale in sight.

You are ready for the feast.
 
Biter Bit


Alfric donned the stinking pelt. ‘Work your wyrd-craft, witch.’

She obeyed: his carls held her son Bran.

Later, lustful Alfric slunk cur-shaped into Ceolwen’s father’s feast-hall. When the drunken men snored, he attempted the witch’s reversal chant. But hours had passed: he only barked.

Home he raced, revengefully intent on savaging Bran’s throat. He arrived wholly dog, seeking the boy but unknowing why.

His carls let Bran keep him as a pet.
 
DECEPTION

"I'm not sure about this dialogue. The way you've written it ... it sounds so sincere."

...."You're meant to be sincere, completely trustworthy. You have nothing to hide."

"I'm trustworthy? That's my motivation? But the title of this story is 'Deception.'"

...."That's the whole point. Considering it's this month's theme, readers will be fooled."

"If I'm so honest, I can't be a part of this! You'll have to find somebody else."
 
DECEPTION REJECTION


"Mother, help me, he won't agree to a divorce unless I come to his bed and spend one last night. I can't spend one more hour with that monster."

"I arranged this horrible marriage, I can take your place daughter, if I wait until he's asleep, the drunken pig won't know the difference."

Dawn reveals a woman's body, torn to shreds, beside her a 350 pound boar reeking of whiskey and blood.

No-one wins.
 
Your Planet Needs You!

"Men! The wait is over. No moment in history is more important than this day! We go down onto Mars to claim it for freedom, democracy and human kind!"

* cheering *

"Never forget the battle of Phobos!"

* chanting of Phobos! Phobos! *

"Let's give those tentacled, cowardly bastards Hell!"

* Hell! Hell! Give 'em Hell! *

"The eyes of Earth are upon us! Let us not disappoint!"

* more cheering *

––

"We? Us?"

"Figure of speech, Lieutenant, figure of speech. Brandy?"
 
The Famed Golden City of Imilkah

They set out as a company, threescore strong.

Fourteen were lost to maelstroms on the crossing.

Seven perished of fever, five of flux, in the grey marshes.

Six simply vanished in the deep jungle.

The river hags claimed nine. The harpies stole eleven more.

Eight began the final climb. Three crested the peak and beheld the famed golden city of Imilkah.

Turns out it was mostly just yellow paint and a creative tourism board.
 
………Invitation
Weight off de feet, sit on de seat,
Lift de glass an' eat dis eat.
Ma mistress has been indiscrete
She's left the keys to cellar, meat
So lay you in, until replete.

When I, in gracious host receive
You may believe, I will achieve.
Ma mistress' not been celebate
She must abate what we'd relate
or else resign herself to fate.
Be of good appetite, accept hospitality,
Enjoy justice outside conventional morality.
 

You Wouldn’t Let It Lie...

So, you want to get away from the script, get the real story? High expectations or what? To tell the truth, it’s a long shot.

Yes, I’m a bit economical with the actualité; fantasy oriented, actually. Always have been, by design. (Or do you think I’m challenged in some way?)

I cannot tell a lie. (I can, but not well.) But show it…? Yeah! Now we’re talking.

So, in short: I’m a tall tale.


 
Diversification

"Ha! Caught you, you emerald-clad rapscallion. Now, where's my crock of gold?"

"Doesn't exist."

"Eh?"

"A myth, y'know, like unicorns."

"I don't believe… wait, what's this, in your hat?"

"MiniCam 6000, twenty megapixel action cam with automatic upload to me YouTube channel. In ten minutes everyone'll see ya manhandling a little fella… Sir."

"Oh God..."

"Five thousand euro will do."

"Uh..."

"I'll take a cheque. Make it out ta Crock o' Gold Enterprises."
 
Freedom

They found him on his throne, a bone-blade through his heart.

There was an air of disbelief, of loss and tragedy. Impossible - the god-king Cranibar was immortal, how could he be…. dead?

*****

In the cool silence of the tomb Cranibar slowly pulled the blade from his chest.

His people did not need him anymore. Let them believe he was gone. Now he had freedom, he could at last live his life. Forever.
 
The Sting of Death



“Guilty! Feed him to the Beast!”

“Please, Sire – it was just a loaf of bread, and my children are starving.”

The king turned away.

The guard yanked the prisoner’s chains free and shoved him toward the gaping pit. Then he glanced at the king’s back and whispered, “Scream.”

“What?”

“Scream.” The guard pushed the prisoner into the pit.

“Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggghhh!”

Thump.

Beast sounds, but no Beast.

Just men, coming out of tunnels.

“Welcome to the rebellion!”
 
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