Psekrit Psummer Pstory Psix -- Guessing Thread

The request:

J Riff: Offhand... Dinosaurs, in ancient dinosaur times, doing real dinosaur stuff and trying to catch the timetraveller humans. Maybe set in Dino-POV. They could get quite clever you know... and they had millions of years to wise up, figure out how to do stuff. They could... start avalanches, set traps, form unions - all kinds of semi-intelligent behavior. So we see the humans as snacks, nothing more, in DinoPov. How the humans got there, what happens to them, that's the story.

The story: "Welcome In, Humans" by chrispenycate

The author solves the challenging problem of coming up with a unique twist on the theme of time travel in this clever story. By considering all the ramifications of multiple timelines, constant changes in history, and the motives of the time travelers a complex vision of a universe in constant flux is created. As another example of the intelligence that went into this tale, a premise which might have led to thoughtless conflict is instead used to show the power of ingenuity and co-operation.
 
Wow Victoria, you sure know how to make our stories sound good. Thanks for the review!
 
Many thanks, Victoria for the reviews of both of my pieces. Steampunk is more a decor than a period, but it's not something I know how to write - so, perhaps with by tongue rather than my pencil in cheek I did so. Which leaves time travelling dinosaurs in a loop - what, it wasn't supposed to be the dinosaurs traveling in time?
 
The request:

johnnyjet: I would like a story about aliens living among us who are completely unrecognizable as aliens until someone begins to notice something different about them, leading to a quest to find out who they were and what their intentions were.Really? Another conspiracy story? You've got to be kidding! Ah, but I want a fresh take on the theme. There's the challenge!

The story: [untitled #1] by TheDustyZebra

Although we only have the beginning of this intriguing story, we can already see that the author intends to keep us on our toes. Through subtle indications that the narrator is not an ordinary person, we are immediately drawn into a mysterious world where things are not what they seem. The sudden surprise of the opening scene's last line leaves the reader wanting much more.
 
The request:

The Storyteller: I would like to request a fairy-tale story with no human characters (animals, insects, plants, and/or inanimate objects are all acceptable). Multiple fairy-tales can be mixed together if desired, and there must be at least one character who speaks only in rhymes!! (Pirates are also cool, but not required.)

The story: "Fairy Fun" by J Riff

This merry romp takes the reader on a wild ride, combining just about every kind of comedy known to literature. We have farce, comedy of character, witty dialogue, absurdism, surrealism, satire, parody, black comedy, and even metafiction. Amazingly, the effect is not jarring, as the author makes smooth transitions from one form of amusement to another.
 
The request:

Phyrebrat: I'd like a scary story set in the 70s, please. Usual disclaimer (no werewolves or vampires).

The story: [untitled #2] by Kerrybuchanan

A consistent mood of brooding tension is maintained in this chilling tale. The author keeps a very sharp focus on the sensations of the protagonist, to the point where the reader shares them fully. Through the use of events which are not fully understood by the main character, as well as by revealing the mysteries of the plot slowly, the author builds steadily increasing suspense. The story avoids familiar themes, and offers new terrors.
 
Better late than never.

I have just now received a story in response to a request made by Phyrebrat:

I'd like a scary story set in the 70s, please. Usual disclaimer (no werewolves or vampires).

Here's the opening:

A Man's Work

It’s hot.

It’s hot and sticky, and the air I suck into my lungs is thick and sweet like lemon barley syrup.

The moon is full, and high, and it casts a silver blue light through the humid miasma of a late summer midnight.

I kneel in the garden under Annabelle’s window. He’s been here, I can see the broken twigs, a faint impression of a foot print, some scuffed dirt from where he dragged his feet through mum’s violets. Dad would be able to tell how long ago, but I’m not quite that good yet. I stretch a little and peer in the open window.

Annabelle is there, asleep, safe for now. Maybe we scared him off.

‘Belle’s bedroom is strewn with tissues . She’s been crying almost non stop for the two days since the first siren, but girls are like that.
Girls cry. I ain’t got time for cryin’ I got work to do.

Man’s work.
 

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