100 word assignment – WEEK 48


Billy stole towards the ruins, the meat and linen weighing heavy. They were wrong; the flashes, the gunfire, the screams, days old, but still too close to be ignored.

“You going somewhere, son?”

His father materialized from the gloom. Billy froze.

“You think we wouldn’t miss these supplies? We need them too.” He shook his head. “To think, I blamed it on the dog.”

A dry, sickly cough made him turn. The wounded man had crawled from rubble, his uniform, a tattered rag. A long breath rattled in his chest and he was still.

Billy tugged his dad’s limp fingers, eyes shining.
“Please, don’t go. He has friends.”

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100 word assignment – WEEK 47

Such wonderful magic …

The goblins stopped working and admired their creation. A red and yellow taxi hooted cheekily behind them.

“This wasn’t here yesterday,” Noddy observed. “Have you got permission?” Self righteous and irritating, but very naive. Pefect. Sly held onto his temper.

“Are you buying or spying?”, he enquired innocently, ignoring Gobbo’s inane giggle. “Only the finest Earl Grey for Toytown cars.”

Foolishly, Noddy relented. “But I’m still telling PC Plod …..”

Abruptly, the car accelerated to the horizon, Noddy’s scream trailing in its wake. A plume of smoke drifted lazily skywards.

Impressed, Sly chuckled to Gobbo. “Petrol. I told you, humans use such wonderful magic!”

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100 word assignment – WEEK 46


Its happening again.

He’s there, his rabid presence gnawing at the edges of my reason.
My temples throb with fractured sight. In anguish, I steal myself to drink the last of Jekyll’s stolen potions but it’s all that stands before the Reaper and the storm. I swallow, in guilty, blessed, luxury, till sanity returns.

Yet, locked in the dark recess of my mind, where the creature howls in vengeance, I touch the patient madness yet to come. And weep. God grant me courage, let Mary be the last!

I take the pistol from the drawer.

I cannot wake, exhausted, to the whisper of his name.


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100 word assignment – WEEK 45

It says so in your contract …

The mirror says it all. If that’s not enough, my colleagues’ faces spell it out.
I look ridiculous! I throw my line manager a pained expression I reserve for imbeciles
but it doesn’t spoil his day.

“Now don’t get hissy, your Hamleys contract’s binding. And Kevin’s ill. Look, wear
this purple stocking, you’ll look just like him.”
Thanks. Small print. Each time, I swear I’ll read it. Why couldn’t I be Jessie?

‘Jessie’ grins coquettishly at me, tosses her braids, fondles ‘Woody’. Of course,
she’s prettier than me. I scowl but Jason’s busy rallying the troops.

“Right, now that there’s a real Buzz about this place, let’s sell some toys!”

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100 word assignment – WEEK 43

The Need to Know

Silently, the dwarf took my hat, cane and spotless gloves and motioned to an open door where candles danced with spectres in the dark. The Hansom wheels had faded on the cobbles and trepidation dared my thin resolve. But to leave a coward now would condemn my fragile conscience to a city full of charlatans.

I entered, without thinking of the consequencies.

Already, there were four upon the table: the Lovers, the Fool, Temperance and Justice. The flame flickered before their upturned faces; the crone had begun before I’d even left the hallway.

Deliberately, she overturned the last card and cackled with contempt.


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100 word assignment – WEEK 42

My first attempt at crime writing …

Crime Doesn’t Pay

I slip in through the window like a ghost.

It’s laughable; even bribing justice, they don’t expect I’ll come. They’re lords of their own sordid empire, drunk on their own overconfident liberty. Still, if Gotham’s a diseased apple, you can always crush the maggots.

I glide to the bed; he’s there, dreaming an abattoir of lust. Maybe tomorrow, he’d make them real. I wake him, just to hear him beg.

“Please, dont kill me.” His eyes are enormous.

Streetglow decays my mask to yellow.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him, “I wont.”

I crack a leathered fist into his face.
“Not for ages.”

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100 word assignment – WEEK 41


prehistoric bones

Time to impress, he thought, and touched a button that removed the solar shield.

The observation deck was suddenly consumed by the Earth’s curve; minute flecks shone as starlight from the surface. He enlarged one with digital precision.

“This is the mark 2 harvester. It strips the flesh, packages the meat and buries the bones. Simply, efficiently and economically. A dinosaur can be processed in minutes.”

“If we cull too many,” an investor warned, “wont the mammals become dominant?”

Xantor waved a tentacle dismissively.

“If we haven’t found a more nutritious planet by then,” he shrugged, “we wont care what we eat.”

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