Scratchings 3

Stories on this page:

Woodland Scene – A New Beginning – Welcome Aboard


As featured on Lily Childs’ Friday Prediction …

Each week Lily Childs sets a challenge on her Feardom blog. A piece of flash fiction, 100 words, using the three words she sets. A recent entry, using understand, carnelian and toadstool is included here:

Woodland Scene

Erestor surveyed the forest floor, his eyes like carnelian beads. From his perch atop the toadstool he could see the faeries a-dancing and a-prancing around the puddles. They were pretty. He’d been told about faeries; how they moved, how their wings sparkled in the sun, how their slim bodies hynotised you. now he understood why his brother was obsessed.

He watched them play around the pools, dipping their toes in the cool water. he slid off the fly agaric and hid under a dock leaf. That’s better, so close, he could almost touch them – a little closer …

(c) 2011, K Patrick Moody


The words for this entry were apron, lash and grail.

A New Beginning

The stitches on the assemblage of fresh parts oozed. There wasn’t time to wait for slow, natural healing. Work must continue. Pursuit of the grail.

Blood drops ran like tears down the doctor’s disposable, green plastic apron as she fumbled with the electric cables in the open chest cavity. Electrodes to the brain protruded through fresh holes drilled at the temple.

Satisfied all was in place, she switched on the power. the corpse twitched and fizzled. Smoke and the aroma of burning flesh filled the room. Then nothing … except the flicker of an eyelash.

(c) 2011, K Patrick Moody


The first Friday Prediction of 2012; knuckle, connection and dial.

Welcome Aboard

He tapped his knuckle on the dial. The needle edged round a bit further.

“How long?”

“About thirty minutes… or I’ve got an hour, if you stop breathing.”

The bathysphere settled in the silt, two miles down. The connections to the support vessel had severed as they scraped along the side of the Titanic.

Now there is only emergency lighting, and whatever air is left in the tank.

The vessel creaked under the pressure.

“We’re not alone …” he pointed through the porthole at the spectral form outside; in full captain’s uniform, wearing a grey beard, and saluting smartly.

(c) 2012, K Patrick Moody

(This being the centenary year of the sinking of the Titanic, of course.)


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