Oldest Trick in the Book by Leslie Moon #atozchallenge

Today is the “O” for A to Z challenge. This week I am stepping into the writer’s circle and writing a week long serial set in the metropolis of NewCago. Its a bit of noir, crime and even some fiction. Though this is a serial, I do understand some of you will be dropping by via A to Z so you can read each day as stand alone microfiction.

The NewCago series – “Missed” , Never

 

newcago blood

 

I looked at my watch – 5 pm time for the cops to crawl into hiding.

I inhale Courage every night before 6. It’s my dead lover’s not mine.

A long blood curdling scream bites into the last flicker of day and night begins.

Decency’s doors are closed and it’s just me and the bad guys.

 

***

After banging around in the trashbin of Newcago,  I needed a drink.  I salivated at the thought of a tall one and a cheese steak.

As soon as I entered Tony’s, I noticed the dame – she was a looker. I couldn’t get a read on the guy beneath the brim.

“Yeah, the regular,” I nodded as I slumped on a stool. Sally and I go back to days when drinks came from the spigot behind the barn.

I couldn’t help but hear dollface gagging.  I rushed to stop her fall; too late the white stuff was bubbling from her mouth, her eyes glazed over.

Something, besides the guy under the shadowy brim, was missin- the large sparkler around her wrist.

“Baby, Newcago is not for the likes of you. These gangsters are old school, girls are cheap…”

I bent over and looked in her vacant eyes. “Didn’t no one tell ya, the playing is for keeps!!!”

I slammed the gin and tonic down. Sal failed to muster a smile.

“Watch your back, Sam.” She whispered in the grey light before dawn.

Lily

There’s so much to enjoy about the A to Z Challenge in April – many people to meet and many fine posts to enjoy.

atoz-oldbook-01-wb

The Golden Key #fantasy #postaday #fiction

shiny key 1

I was a golden key

fashioned just after time was turned

and I knew I had a purpose

 but forgot all I had learned. 

I placed myself in large  hands

of those who perchance might  serve

but one after another

got what they deserved.

And so I hung despondent

 on a cold and lifeless  tree

hoping for an answer

and one that would set me free.

I heard someone so cheerful

but she was  so very young.

“What can a child do

when the others failed all and one.”

The sun hit just right

and she reached and stretched her hand.

She and I both surprised

for her height seemed to expand. 

“I heard a story once,”

her voice so sweet and low.

“Yes,grandmother knew it well.

A key with a golden glow.

I dont remember all

but let me linger now.

We will go back and see

what if time had cast a spell.”

So the girl and I sat

for a long and timeless while

but I really did not mind

she had such a winsome smile.

“Yes, I remember”

she patted me in her palm.

“You open up a place

by singing a forgotten song.”

She hummed and sang the songs

 all the ones she had been told

and as I watched before me

this small child got very old.

She held me and it warmed me

and I began to glow.

 A gnarled and weary door

in the tree began to show. 

“There it is in the middle”

a keyhole she did find

and I was oh so happy

to at last meet my own kind.

We passed through the door together

she transformed into herself

so fairy like her beauty

and I a greenish elf. 

*****

Today’s Daily Post writing challenge asks the question:

You’ve been given a key that can open one building, room, locker, or box to which you don’t normally have access. How do you use it, and why?

I did not submit the following story today as it was an archived short story that I created as a continuation from an old Grimm’s Fairy Tale – The Golden Key was it’s title.

Other’s who have also written about the Key:

 

 

Can’t Last Forever #haiku #Fiction

black and white bound heart
seeking for relief
aching of a broken heart –
love isn ‘t forever
 
© Chèvrefeuille

 

 

“Analyze that Haiku “#2 gives us the opportunity to look around the  above haiku 360  degrees and tell its story so here goes:

It had been a long summer. Nights never cooled below 100 and my coffee ground skin was always in some state of pealing. You had  loved caressing that skin once or had it just been a mirage. Had I made myself believe that you couldn’t catch a wave the same way without me, that the crisp mountain air was dull when we couldn’t chase the fall leaves, and winter nights together well you said they took your breath away. My heart peals back revealing layer after layer of pain. When will I get to the end of you and memories…? This desert heat is more constant than your love even it can’t last forever.

 

… and then write a haiku:

hot nights

your shoes wait at the door

cold memories

Thanks to Kristjann Panneman for the prompt and inspiration.

Reflections #horror #flashfiction #PEN

 

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Reflections in windows tease and haunt, showing what was, and what is no longer.

Demons, creatures, faces and things of terror live in almost everything.

It reflects her suffering, an enticing apparition. … begging for release.

My father told me they did ‘things’ to bad people on The Hill and I should stay away from there.

Their faces turn up, beseeching. I watch as they enter my opening maw.

Dark shadows of night interpose, greedily they suck the last drop of day.

Nothing will deny sky from its horizon.

Fingers clutch at the crumbling windowsill.

A picture forms in the panes of glass as it does every day before dusk becomes night.

I’ve realized that the window shows the truth. It only shows pain.

It was one of the few that still had glass in the barren building.


The writers for Pen of the Damned:
 Jon Olson Zack Kullis Magenta Nero Craig McGray Nina D’Arcangela Leslie Moon Joseph A. Pinto Blaze McRob Thomas Brown  Tyr Kieran Hunter Shea

The above is just a compiled teaser from this week’s selection of horror in 100 words. There are some tasty morsels at Pen of the Damned.

The photograph the work of Nina D’Archangela

pen of the damned

 

 

 

 

Ice cold memories #flashfiction #poetry

copyright-erin-leary

This grey dismal scene

flickered thoughts

embossed  my mind

long forgotten memories

path of my past

icicles dripped dark lies

“failure, fool, worthless”

mud sucked boots

clothes would never dry

and the sky, the sky

spoke the words

“there is no sun

it’s been removed”

only darkness looms

etching finality on your tomb”

no places to dream

those were taken away too

go ahead and scream, and scream

no one will hear you

here I stood

holding my hand

the one that couldn’t remember

tried so hard to forget

 we stood together

at the past’s path again

drip
Drip – L. Moon 2013

Here’s to a New Year for Friday Fictioneers. Enjoy the work submitted by fantastic writers and poets.

The Ancient Alley’s Story #flashfiction #poetry #amwriting

alley

Aged marks the alley

A way traversed by man

many feet have covered

more years than that  have spanned

Aged marks a history

where crimes in stealth occurred

running for a hidden place

but they had been observed

Aged marks a story

the stones that cannot speak

holding back the knowledge

not told on any street

Aged yes and crafty

we carry many scars

were you to know the secrets

you’d gasp and be alarmed

Seek not for the answers

we whisper in our drink

this alley holds much darkness

they’re coming

for you

we think

*

Thanks to Rochelle and Friday Fictioneers  for another week, another great prompt, and an entry into an alley where there may be no exit.

I took the liberty of editing Kent Bonham’s shot just a bit. I wanted the focus to be on the stones of this alley.

Keep Your Head #flashfiction #nablopomo

al_forbes

Just past the doors, there was something going on. There were deliveries of crates day and night.

One delivery guy got lost and walked into a  room full of male statues.

“I guess it’s gonna be a museum.” He scratched his head.

“Put him up over the lintel of the front door,” she smiled lustfully at the handsome face of Hermes.

“His head seems to hold up the building,” one passerby remarked.

He wanted to write home to Pericles, “Be careful, my young friend, never to piss off a Roman goddess. They need one of us to lead Athens.”

*****

Pericles and Hermes shared two things: they were both Greek and they were both orators. Neither seemed able to keep their head…

Pericles

This week’s prompt takes a classical bent Rochelle the curator at Friday Fictioneers.

Photography courtesy of: Al Forbes and Ancient History.about .com