MARCH 2023 -- 75 Word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO PHYREBRAT!

[Hugh]

Chapel Perilous

He woke screaming, the image of the monster’s open jaws imprinted on his retina, his face seemingly awash with nauseating drool.

Half gibbering, he turned the light on, heart pounding, and staggered to the mirror, where his eyes stared out at him, frozen in terror.

Somehow he returned to bed, but as he slipped back into unconsciousness, he was paralysed once again by that menacing chuckle and that same slime began dripping onto his face.​

 

[C.Robin]

To make a perfect coffee

“You useless junk! That’s it. I am dismantling you tomorrow!”

Coff-o-tron was bad at making coffee, the very reason for its creation. Determined to stay with its inventor, it spent the whole night perfecting the hot drink.

“What the…” the inventor exclaimed when he entered the kitchen the next morning. Coff-o-tron, right before the inventor’s eyes, prepared a cup of coffee. The inventor took the drink, waited a moment, and sipped.

 

[BT Jones]

Culling the Herd​

Deraxa, she of the hundred-day war and countless others, sunk her bearlike frame onto the hazy hillside, hipflask in hand. Rosal, her squire, joined her, holding aloft a bladder of spiced tea.

“Victory!” cheered Rosal. Deraxa hmphed. Rosal’s brow vaulted. “We quelled the uprising!”

“The starving townsfolk?” Deraxa wafted at the body-strewn battlefield below. “Well, they’re not starving anymore!”

Rosal shrugged. “Perhaps… With a second chance, the King...”

“Second?!” Deraxa scowled. “That was his tenth!”

 

[JS Wiig]

For Now, Goodbye

My parents don’t want me to go. ‘A colony on the moon? You lookin’ to die?’ they say. They don’t know I wouldn’t mind.

The constant berating and belittling is too much. I’m eighteen and can enroll in the Lunar Corps. I’m getting out of here and if I die so be it.

I’m hoping my time away will make them realize we’re family and should love each other. Give us a second chance.

 

[Daysman]

Reunion

Mungo chartered a wingsail catamaran out of Walthamstow.

We threaded the engorged Thames eastwards, dropping anchor at the campus clock tower late afternoon

Our autonomous aquatic drones fixed posters around the submerged halls, then pushed inside.

Gawdy floodlit video of corridors and lecture theatres backdropped our deck party that night.

Being drunk, I recall little apart from those drowned places below.

No second chances there.

I did connect with Penelope again… but that's another tale.

 

[Bowler1]

No Second Chances

Missed!

The King had a bloody head wound, but he’d live.

I cast aside my once trusted crossbow and draw my sword, ready to face the King’s Guard swarming toward me ready for retribution.

I can’t be taken alive, too many depend on me and I’m prepared to die, so I’ll fight… and kill all the royal scum I can.

‘Alive,’ shouts the King, ‘take him alive.’

My blood runs cold, as Guards crowd in.

 

[Phyrebrat]

The Death of Ageing

When was he?

Immortality — like immolation — consumes you. Science doesn’t understand that ageing eventually kills itself, kills us. The poisoned chalice of immortality taught much; he’d learnt even the toughest, cliff-bound olive trees die…

Worse though: ageing continues for immortals.

He owns no mirrors, no hairbrush…no camera.

As he witnesses seedlings turn into shaggy yews, then die, he inches through time — a crepe-boned, mummification of man — wishing he’d said no…

And wonders about immolation.

 

[Shyrka]

Extra Life

The apartment lay dark. Cold night air pricked her sweat-slick skin. Rickard’s body hung limply from the other rig, blood trickling from the corner of his slack-jawed mouth. The plaintive monotone of flatline replaced the ringing in her ears.

Serra caught her breath and reactivated her headset. Light assaulted her. “Computer,” she said, forcing the tremor from her voice. “Activate defibrillators and-” Rickard’s body spasmed. He drew a shuddering breath. “-restart from checkpoint.”

 

[Parson]

No Second Chances in War​

Schmalbek turned the XB7 Fighter into a hard spiral, losing the Cherwix Fighter which could not turn with him. Unfortunately, he picked up two CFs on his horizontal six and one on his vertical three. He hammered the throttle and retreated on vertical seven. Wrong move! Schmalbek’s missile-lock alarm sounded. His world exploded.

Lieutenant Herman ripped him from the simulation pod yelling; “Schmalbek if you don’t learn you are going to die! Try again!”

 

[hitmouse]

Tapestry

I went into the travel agent. Albany Rd, Cardiff. One of the last in the city. Dusty place. My broadband was down, laptop blown, phone dropped from my pocket down the lav on Friday night. Out of options.
“I need to go and see the tapestry. In Bayeux.”
The packet behind the counter looked at me uncertainly. Not sure what sort of stuff she had left to sell these days.
“Tapestry? By where?”

 

[Bren G]

Love Unrequited



My heart ached as I gazed through teary eyes. She was just as I remembered! I made the final keystrokes. Memories flooded her neural net, her face changed, as if pondering the entirety of our lives together. Then she smiled. My love has returned!

She kissed me sweetly before whispering in my ear. Then, she opened the airlock and jettisoned herself into cold space. Her words still echo in my mind.

“Not again my dear.”

 

[Axovan Sol]

Uncertain Hope

The gods look upon you, mum used to say.

And now I was here, in the middle of a battlefield, barely breathing.

The screams of clashing weapons, the smell of blood and sweat.

A blurred figure emerging from the battle, axe in hand.

For one moment, I thought Valhalla had arrived, saved by it.

An arrow had been the savior; But, who gave me the second chance?

Maybe the gods, maybe not. The battle continued.

 

[Peter V]

Parole Violation

Arthur, exits the prison and makes his way to the local mag-lev station where he finds the platform depressingly overcrowded.

Gratefully leaving the packed train, his heart sinks when he finds Bill’s Tavern gone; replaced by a garish neon joint selling something called holo-tattoos. Grotesque music blares too loud from shops and cars alike.

Sadly, Arthur walks to the open window of a parked police cruiser and punches the driver.

“Sorry.”

He assumes the position.

 

[Lawrence Twiddy]

Daisy Deschain of Gilead

Daisy, six, inherited her Pa’s fabled pistol. He died on their porch, a gunshot wound.

He whispered to her as he slipped away.

***

Daisy, nineteen, stared at the mirror. Her face, a host of black and blue. Jaw swollen.

She ambled back towards the barn, Pa’s pistol in hand.

“Daisy? Please, I’m sorry!”

Bang!

Pa’ had whispered ‘giving someone a second chance is like giving them another bullet, because they missed you the first time.’

 

[chrispenycate]

Coincidence​

It must be pure chance. A city of millions, gawping at a traffic accident, two tourists' phrase books trying to understand the locals. Through incomprehension they approved of each other, and giggled through an unplanned meal.

Five years, same city. Nostalgically rang the number. It answered, and close.

Contradicting accents, now both spoke local. Too good to waste: he booked the same restaurant.

The interstellar saboteur and the alien agent queued together a second time.

 

[Ursa major]

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Thank Goodness for the Spare​

Prince Wulfstan was kind, rich, gullible… but a cuckoo. As the latter, he was perfect: even he was ignorant of his true nature. I realised too late – too late for him – when he glimpsed the real me through my glamour.​

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I could’ve worked with him – on him – if I’d known earlier. Now Wulfstan lies in state.​

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I’m sure Prince Grimbald, the new heir, is genuine… and will never see what I really am.​

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Kerching!​

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[Ursa major]

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