November 2015 75-Word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO STILLEARNING!

[Jareb Collins]

Reverend Tommy never steers us wrong.

At least, that’s what Reverend Tommy always says.

Huddled on the compound’s cement floor, I feel death seeping into my bones. That and the arsenic burning a hole in my gut reminds me that this is the last terrifying transition I will ever face.

I am surrounded by friends, all cheering my journey from the Other Side.

The fading light is dimmed with red, and the Reverend isn’t here.

 

[Moonbat]

Schrödinger's Menagerie​

Erect the road blocks!
We can't Dame Damme, he took a quantanglecab
Pursue him!
He observed us.
How?
He lined the streets with cats eyes.
Surely they observed him too?
They're both sighted and blind.
Can we observe the eyes?
We tried hearing them blink using bats ears.
And?
The ears are both listening and deaf.
So?
So using a combination of dogs noses, buffolen tongue and octopodes tentaclai.
Yes?
We made a mess.

 

[Ihe]

What's the Feathery Point?

Gabriel stood before God. The offer had not yet been declined.

The Father repeated: “Mortality for thy wings. Life for thy eternity. Judgement.”

Angels’ grand purpose was of such indissolubility that Gabriel would never see it fulfilled in the infinity ahead. Humans’ purpose was nearly inconsequential, but could be seen through to an end. Closure!

“I will remain.”

Both ends are lost in forevers, but forevers are best if you can rock big-ass wings.

 

[StilLearning]

Highwayman:

Detective Crooker’s helicopter landed outside the highway department’s warehouse: It’d been ransacked, highways taken, staff shot. The police only had two helicopters, so without the highways they were effectively trapped in the station – and the perps could raid with impunity.…
‘…but…‘ Crooker thought, ‘...they rushed. Sloppy.... maybe…’ He searched the warehouse cellar and finally found; Pickle Alley. A narrow road, but it would get foot and bike patrols into town.
The chase was on!

 

[Jo Zebedee]

STILL WAITING

'You can't.'

'Why not?'

'People will walk out. They like resolutions. Not this.'

Damn. I'd thought it was a great idea. A joke within a joke.

He leans in, tones hushed. 'Theatres will turn you away. You'll be finished.'

I try to imagine Godot, what he'd look like, the person he'd be. I try with all my might. I pull the page towards me.

I still can't see him. 'No,' I say and I write.

 

[Travis Woodward]

Taste the difference

Dex sat on the sofa and shifted to a different reality. The wallpaper was made of lobsters, his elbows were now reversible, and the sofa had become a trampoline, but otherwise it was very similar.

Most importantly, there was a nice hot cup of tea that the Dex of this reality had just made. Smiling, Dex picked it up and took a sip. He grimaced.

“Ugh. Who has tea with no sugar?”

He shifted again.

 

[Mad Alice]

And the Stars, Splintered, Sang...

I had to save the ship, so I destroyed it.

We would sing as the Singularity sang. The crew's bodies danced through zero-g to sonorant engine explosions. As the black hole compacted the ship, I felt the stars splinter. All that we were reformed into endless lines of possibilities flooding out from the giant amplification of the singularity, broadcasting us back to home.

I picked among the futures.

We would live again.

 

[Culhwch]

In A Hundred Years We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, Anyway

It was my mother’s favourite saying, particularly when a simple, ‘No,’ wasn’t shattering enough.

Ballet lessons?

Tickets to the Radiohead concert?

Fly in to meet your granddaughter?

It was more than a saying, though: it was an excuse, a reason not to try.

And it stuck with me.

It’s why I followed my dream, and enrolled in clown college.

Because in a hundred years we’ll all be dead and none of this will matter, anyway.

 

[Gonk the Insane]

Reunion

‘You should have let me go.’

Five years since we’d parted, the dark stain on her shirt a timer running down. ‘You became the enemy.’

She shook her head. ‘The agency would have lost funding without a viable threat. This was just another assignment.’ She looked at the bodies littering the floor. ‘These were our people. You’re the real terrorist.’

I heard sirens. Blood bubbled on her lip. ‘Run, husband.’

I dropped the gun.

 

[The Judge]

Reflection has closed the road



“It’s the road not taken, not path.”

“What’s it matter?”​

“If someone’s going to quote, they should do it properly.”

“No need to be so frosty. Anyway, are you standing here all day?”​

“Ages and ages hence I’ll sigh I took the road less travelled by.”

“Then take the other one.”​

“And follow the herd?”

“You do realise you’re a cow?”​

“That’s aurochs.”

“And I’m you, talking to yourself?”​

“Well, it passes the time.”

 

[Ursa major]

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Pointlessness; OR Getting on my Wik….​

This challenge is no challenge at all!

Yes, the subject looks intriguing. (And, knowing the people entering, there’ll be some very good stories.) But the genre….

Wikipedia strongly implies that Absurdist Fiction is about pointlessness. Okay, you might say, but Wiktionary says a path is “a sequence of vertices.”

Given a vertex is a point, the only way to combine these concepts is not to take that path.

So where’s the challenge in that…?

 

[Ursa major]

This Challenge is now closed to new entries, and voting is open at the link below:

POLL -- NOVEMBER 2015 75 Word Challenge -- READ FIRST POST!​

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