Friday, July 20, 2018

The Hey We Got a Shout Out Flash Fiction Contest!



Hey, we got a shout out in SAM HAWKE'S book!!
How cool is that!

Of course we need a flash fiction contest to celebrate!
Prize is a copy of City of Lies!

 The usual rules apply:

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Use these words in the story:
city
lie
sam
hawke
woo hoo

If you want to compete the Steve Forti Category of Advanced Word Acrobatics, you must also include: Canberra


3. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards.
Thus: lie/liege is ok but woo-hoo/wool hood is not

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again. It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

6. International entries are allowed.

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

8. Under no circumstances should you tweet anything about your particular entry to me. Example: "Hope you like my entry about Felix Buttonweezer!" This is grounds for disqualification.

8a. There are no circumstances in which it is ok to ask for feedback from ME on your contest entry. NONE. (You can however discuss your entry with the commenters in the comment trail...just leave me out of it.)

9. It's ok to tweet about the contest generally.
Example: "I just entered the flash fiction contest on Janet's blog and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt"

10. Please do not post anything but contest entries. (Not for example "I love Felix Buttonweezer's entry!")

11. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

12. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.


Contest opens: 4:05am am, Saturday 7/21/18

Contest closes: 9am, Sunday, 7/22/18


If you're wondering how what time it is in NYC right now, here's the clock

If you'd like to see the entries that have won previous contests, there's an .xls spread sheet here http://www.colindsmith.com/TreasureChest/

(Thanks to Colin Smith for organizing and maintaining this!)

Questions? Tweet to me @Janet_Reid
Ready? SET?

Not yet!
ENTER!
Sorry, contest closed. Results on Monday 7/23/18

45 comments:

Aphra Pell said...

They call him Hawkeye. Demon photographer of the Canberra press gallery, exposing the falsity of political smiles, baring ambitious eyes measuring their chance. Show fear at the dispatch box, and Hawkeye’s genius will make you news.

Prime Minister Samuel Twitch probably thought he was safe, meeting the girl in the owl costume out in the bush. But there were no flies on Hawkeye, and no limit to his tenacity. The shutter clicked. Twitch-Twoo hooted the newspapers; it swung the election. Hawkeye never knew whether to feel glad or guilty. It was just his job.

Steve Forti said...

Woo hoo! I found him. He's dynamic. I typically scout pitchers, but this catcher was a magician.”
“Yeah? What's his name?”
“Yogi Berra.”
“Yogi? That's funny. So can Yogi be a good fit?”
He smirked. “He can be r-”
“Ra
re talent level good?”
“For real - ie, worth the first pick. Don't hem and haw. Keep his name on top of your draft board.”
“Just tell me he doesn't joke he's smarter than the average bear.”
Another smirk. “I didn't make the obvious word play here, and trust me, he never will, either.”

Alina Sergachov said...

Sudoriparous straphangers stink. But boisterous bucket beaters are even worse. They call themselves “drummers”. Ambitious, huh. A kwela it’s not.
Subterranean preachers. A special level of hell I endure daily.
Showtime.
La Cucaracha ya no puede caminar
porque no tiene, porque le falta
una pata de atrás.
Woo... Hootenanny about a cockroach that has lost one of its legs should be illicit.
Ya murió la cucaracha
ya la llevan a ente—

Can be—

—rrar.

—defined as “atrocity” for sure.
In short, all was well on the Brooklyn bound L train till a man got on at Union Square station.

Craig F said...

“Sam, honey, I’m home.”
“Sam no longer lives here. I am the Hawke.”
“Woo-hoo, you look like Sam dressed in funny clothes.”
“I am the Hawke, you should tremble at the name.”
“Why would I do that, girl?”
“Where have you been?”
“In the city, normal Friday meeting.”
“That is a lie. You would have seen my trail of destruction.”
“I saw some loose dogs. Samantha, what did you do?”
“Samantha didn’t do anything.”
“How about the Hawke?”
“She stood up for Kenney.”
“How?”
“I tied the bully down, covered him with dogfood and let the dogs out.”
“Oh shit.”

BrendaLynn said...

East India Trading Company,
4 Getta Way,
London, England.

Dear Sirs,
My felicity is forever destroyed.
Your Captain Hawkeye has besmirched the fairest and most pure-minded of maidens: namely, my fiancé, Miss Hymenoptera A. Bandond, who in June sailed on the Fancy Lass bound for Australia. She joined his cutthroat band the day she boarded the ship and has since quit her missionary position entirely. What will happen to the undeserving of Canberra now, I ask you?
Your guarantee of a safe passage is a lie.

Sincerely, a litigious American customer,

W.O. O’Hooligan III
Boston , Massachusetts

Madeline Mora-Summonte said...



Deer Momma

I shouldn't open the door when your working, but Mister Sam said it was an emrgenz. The city is full of flew bugs!

We're going someplace safe, sekret. He'll keep a hawk eye on me until you come. He's a nabor, not a stranger so it's okay. And I scarred of bugs.

Missus Woo came, yelled NO GO! ALL LIES! Missus Woo hooked her fingers into claws, scratched Mister Sam's face! They fighted until she fell down asleep.

Mister Sam screamed HURRY! so I am.

Don't be scarred, Momma. See you soon!

Your sun Marty

Jo Connolly said...

It was the same thing every weekend; Charlie couldn’t take it anymore. All the lira in Rome couldn’t make living above Fat Anthony’s Prosecco Palace worth it. If one more “woo-hoo!” or one more “hee-haw!” kept her up all night again, she’d have to sneak downstairs and laceleaf the frizzante. It was her roommates’ twisted proclivities, though, that were the last straw, so when Big T and somnophiliac Anber ran the “sleeping princess” scenario by her, Charlie was all “Arrivederci, Tyrone. I’m outta here!”.

Mike Hays said...

That new exchange student, Sam? She talked to me.
Really, she did.
Talked. To. Me.
In public.
Woo hoo!
I cannot lie about something this earth-shattering. No girl at Cawker City Junior High has ever come up out of the blue and talked to me.
“Hello,” she said in that accent.
I avoided her light brown eyes. “Welcome to Cawker City.”
She looked at our mascot painted on the gym wall. “Hawke?”
Seriously, that’s how she said it, “hawke”, not “hock”.
“Fighting Eagle.”
She shrugged. “Very inspiring.”
“I guess.”
She smiled and walked away.
I smiled.
She talked to me.

Kamikaze said...

“Oh my god! Melissa, look! Ethan Hawke likes my script!”

“Woo hoo,” I say, with no enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just... Why lie, Sam?”

“I’m not lying,” he says. “The email’s right here.”

“And I suppose he’s invited you to Canberra for the weekend?”

“New York City, actually.”

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I read your script,” I say. “It’s trash and doesn’t make sense.”

“You said you liked it.”

“Because I loved you. But now I know you’re having an affair.”

Turns out, he wasn’t. Ethan Hawke just has terrible taste.

And now I’m single...

#OhWell

Shelly Taylor said...

In the middle of the bustling city street, lies the body of Hawkeyed Sam.

Sam had a keen eye. At seven he saved a gaggle of ducks from a donut truck disaster.

At fifteen he saved, Jake the school Jock, from pure mortification, simply by removing the five-foot stream of toilet paper attached to his shoe.

Right now, he was in the middle of the street with a school bus barreling towards him.
At the last second the bus diverted around his body.

Hawkeyed Sam jumped up, off the giant pot-hole, and shouted, “Woo-hoo, I saved the brats!”

Jennifer Delozier said...

My brother Sly belches lies the same way a city coughs smog – loudly, with a dirty finish. I woo hoodlums to run the drugs. Together, we rule Canberra’s streets, or at least its drug trade. The scum calls us Sly and the Family Stoned. It’s a Family Affair.

But empires fall, siblings squabble, and rulers are overthrown. Sly hawked one slimy lie too many, and this one involved my cut. Now the hoodlums call me Queen. Another One Bites the Dust.

RosannaM said...

“Seriously woo woo hoopla. Served us hawk egg omelet with dandelion flowers.”

“Hawk egg?”

“Sorry. Mouth’s full. Duck egg. And bone broth made with chicken feet.” I move on from the handful of potato chips I had crammed in my mouth and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“So you gonna do it?”

“You can berra b’lieve it.” I scrape peanut butter off the roof of my mouth. “Soon as I finish my samwich.”

“Paleo, Mediterranean, Zone. Same lie, different diet.”

I drench an avocado with olive oil. “So not true. Keto will work,” I say with ferocity.

AReefVisitor said...

When you’re a Druid, you see what can be. RRAT? They only see what is. The Rapid Response Assistance Team cleans up the city’s disasters. Woo hoo. What they don’t do is actually solve the problems causing the disasters. Samuel Lepper says their way works. Lie. It doesn’t and it never has.

He’s smart as a hawk, except he didn’t see this coming. My chance for problem prevention.

I make sure the gasoline is spread evenly over Mr. Lepper’s rug. I toss in a final word.

The other Druids congratulate me as the flames leap into the sky.

Kregger said...

In a world where the Empire loses every Death Star, Roadrunner the Hawke can't figure why everyone thinks he's a birdbrain.

Even his best friend, a bald-headed Woohookie, lies about his IQ.

Although, Tatooine sucks as a city-planet, Roadrunner must set course to visit his boss, Pizza the Hut.

Not to go is a choice between a carbonite dream or eating a Toucan Berrasaurus pile.

Should a neuronally-deficient superhero sampon himself to a lump of cheese and pepperoni? Roadrunner likes pizza but not that way.

The Woohookie could be wrong.

Roadrunner's first stop?

Hobart, the oven planet.

James Leisenring said...

The dead take the city, and they’ll take me with it. The question is: am I taking some of these bastards with me? Or do I try to cure them?

In one hand, the trigger to the explosives. In the other, my untested formula to save “humanity,” if such a word still applies.

I hem and haw, kettle boiling over. Then they break through the kitchen.

I put down the trigger and inject one with the formula. In its eyes I see… life. Woo hoo! I did it!

Then I see another grab the trigger.

“DON’T DO IT YOU DUMB—”

Michael Seese said...

High above the city, where the ragged skyscrapers and soot-laden smokestacks belie its true beauty, a fiery dance unfolded. He flirted with the vast welkin, its ample blue proscenium the ideal stage for his aerial tango.

Hawk eyes wide with desire, he circled; she counterpointed at a safe distance.

“Shy one!” he shouted. “You believe I know not how to woo? Ho! Only true love could spur me thus.”

He dove on passion’s wings, anticipating reciprocation, not expecting the sickening crack of his neck.

Tumbling earthward, life ebbing, he glanced at his love, now merely a pale reflection of himself.


Timothy Lowe said...

They let him lie until the thaw. Kept the dowry themselves.

Moved on to Tucson. Wealthy city, no snow. An army of suitors to woo. Hoofprints in the sand, harder to follow.

Same plan, different circumstances. But Molly was getting edgy.

“I’m sick of poison.”

“It’s the easiest.”

“Why can’t we just hit them with a shovel? More fun.”

“You’re impossible.” They needed the shovel. No use denting it.

“And why do I always have to be the sister? Always a bridesmaid.”

“Shut up.”

After Tucson, Canberra. Softer ground, little snow. Molly hated Australia, but she was past complaining.

Colin Smith said...

My affability belies my audacity, so I’m told. The body bobbing like flotsam in the pool bears testimony to that, I suppose. He was just another door-to-door hawker of cheap merch. Woo hoo, no big deal.

But I recognized the “cheap” necklace. I’d given it to my ex. Either she’d been robbed, or made permanently ex. Whichever, it was by his filthy hands.

“You seem like a nice guy,” he slimed. I gave him the wild eye and Jack Nicholson grin.

“Yeah… but I can be… rradical!” Trilled that “r” nicely.

Rright before I put bullet a between his eyes.

french sojourn said...


Jambalaya Jones was cursed, you put some cards in front of him and he was like a deer caught in the headlights. As cursed as he was, same time he was one lucky sombitch, woohoo, how he snared lil’ Della LaCroix, I’ll never know.

Last time he lied about where he was, she dragged his ass out of some card game going on in some dank city pool-hall. Nothing gets by her, she watches him like a hawk.

Eventually, he got a winning hand, well she had a big part in it, seems they ended up with a full house.

Dan Castro said...

Imitating Homer Simpson, I yelled: "Woo hoo. I won Sam Hawke's 'City of Lies.'"
"Not good enough," Janet said.
"D'oh! Give me direction. What if I break the words up? Say Homer likes 'Hee Haw,' kestrels, amaretto--"
"Ludicrous."
"What about interruptions? Like, I want, I w-- Ooh! Oolong tea."
"Nope."
"What if I use Latin abbreviations?"
"You won't!"
"I will! I.e.--"
"No!"
"Et al., e.g., op. cit., ya know?"
"HUGE NO!"
"Acronyms?"
"Woo hoo?"
"World...Organization...Of... ...Holistic--"
"Better off with oolong tea."
"So you're giving me direction? Go for interrupted--"
"I'm not giving you anything. Especially 'City of Lies.'"

Joey Collard said...

The mausoleums loomed over the grey beach, labeled "HERE LIES JOSÉ VASQUEZ" and "MARIA ARMSTRONG." I stepped over some flotsam and trained my special pistol on our lurching foe as he floated over the surf. My partner had already tomahawked him once, to no effect. We had no other useful weapons.

My last consecrated bullet struck at high velocity, passing through the vampire's heart. He collapsed into dust.

"We did it," I breathed, falling to my knees and dropping the empty pistol.

"Uh...weren't there two crypts?" said my partner.

That's when I heard soft rustling behind me.

Two? ...Oh.
Oops.

K OCD said...

No speak real English in Sam Hawke's homeland:

I hold up my note: CAPITOL
"G'day! This bus is for Byron Bay." He nods, smiling.
I climb on.

Hours later, I scratch my head. Weird, didn't know the city of Canberra lies at the coast.

At hostel's lounge, 2PM:
"I vould like to go surfing."
"T'day?"
I glance at 6 available computers.
"Err..."
"At 4PM?"
"Huh?"
Guy picks up phone, dials, talks.
"A teacher will pick you up at 3:50."
I read a sign: Welcome to Surfers Paradise. Get your board and ride the waves. Woo hoo!
"Nooo! Ze internet, please!"



(Hello Reef, big apologies to Janet for these extra, not-for-the-contest-counting words!
I'm only doing it, because I'm sure a lot of people will check in TODAY, and I'd love all of you to know that I'm Katja, previously been posting as "One Of Us Has To Go". I've had to change it, wanted it to be "Katja", didn't work etc. and so on - commented about it on yesterday's post. So, sorry again for this, I hope I won't get disqualified, I'd just love you all to know that " One Of Us Has To Go" is alive but under this username :). And you can call me "Katja" - as you like :).
Thank you so much, Janet, if you can leave my entry here :)!)

shtrum said...

She passed the city news hawker, a pre-teen boy next to a pile of papers. “Woo hoo!” he shouted. “Escaped freak. Half-shark, half-woman, on the loose!”

Canberra’s a hundred miles away from the ocean, Janet thought. They’re more afraid of sharks here than Sydney or Melbourne. Seeing the boy gave her a hunger pang. She imagined him as a little Aussie sammich.

Focus, she chastised. The one you want is that tourist agent. ‘See Australia. Great whites galore.’ What a lie. All I’ve met is a couple nurses and a hammerhead with halitosis. Try cutting back on the jellyfish, buddy.

Claire Bobrow said...

I’m cruising the streets of Canberra,
channeling that old fullback magic.
Vintage Holden Sandman.
Christmas present to myself -
despite Sam’s protests.

She didn’t know half.
Her hawk-eye couldn’t keep up.
If this was a midlife crisis,
I was all in.

“Woo hoo!”
A redhead flags me down.
“Nice car!”
I pull over and make a pass.
Intercepted.

The gun is a surprise.
“Merry Christmas!”
Something flutters to the ground as she peels out.
Seems the glory days are alive and well in our city of lies:

“That’s alright!
“That’s okay!
“I’ll win it in divorce court anyway!
“Sam.”

Megan V said...

Welcome to Sam’s Canberra, a lyrical city. Based on a true story.

Hey diddle diddle
The dog just went piddle
'Cause a kangaroo jumped in our room
(Boing boing!)
Now I shouldn't laugh
To see such a sight
But the maid ran in here with a broom.

*Interlude. Woo hoo!*

I’d hand her my sixpence
But I happened to spy
A hawk eating the coin
So instead I say goodbye

Except the door won’t open
The broom knocked off a spring;
Trapped inside, I bellow
“The kangaroo is king!”

John Davis Frain said...

Was Jimmy Three Fingers showed me the publicity flyer.

WANTED
Study Participants. Free tix to Knicks. Meet n greet with playaz.

“Wanted!” I wadded the flyer. “Ain’t that right.” Tryna woo hoodlums like us into a trap. I know a sting, I see one. But Three Fingers don’t shut up. Believes it’s legit. To prove my point, I let him go.

Now he’s flashing pix. With ’Melo. Joakim. All the fellas. I was so pissed, I tomahawked him to make a new point.

Suddenly Jimmy Two Fingers is a Good Samaritan doing V for Victory. Me? Doin’ 6-to-10 inside MCC.

Marion Coleman said...

He used to watch her like a hawk even when she was in chains. But since Canberra, when she had lied to the police for him, he’d grown careless. She wasn’t strong enough to overpower him in a spontaneous ambush, but she could plan. Drove her to a new city in the trunk of his car. He watched porn and took her from behind, hollering woo hoo like he was in a rodeo. Thought he had broken her. That was the night she hid the knife.

Karen McCoy said...

“I ain’t goin’.”

“But they got a pool, Ma,” Ted told her. “You love the water.”

“Woo hoo!” Delores said, jumping on the positivity train.

“Y’all lie,” Ma said. “I should have disowned you both, years ago. Sam hell.”

Ted bent to her wheel-chair level. “You wouldn’t stoop that low, Ma. I need this house.”

“A shawker. I canberra it.” Ma was lazy with her sarcasm. “The city’ll get the house once I croak.”

“You won’t croak.”

“I most certainly will.”

“Not on my watch.” The uniformed orderly pushed her along the worn linoleum.

And then she remembered.

Barbara said...

Mary Woo hooted across the kitchen. 'VIP order! Pupu for two, two General Tso's chicken, and two Canberra cocktails."

"Who's the celebrity?" Sam asked.

"Henshaw Keeting, the most devastating food critic in the city."

"No lie? I heard he always gives good reviews."

Mary groaned. That's what she was afraid of.

Next morning, she read his review.

Dined at Mary Woo's, and everything was delicious. And the presentation! Chicken sliced as if General Tso hacked it to pieces himself. Cocktails with real cock tails instead of paper umbrellas. And the Pupu? Best I ever tasted!

Mary never saw another customer.

Marie McKay said...

Samson Hawkens had been a ghost for a year. He'd tried to find his place in the city. He'd let out a 'wwwoohooo' to scare passers-by but he gained no pleasure from it. On buses, he'd lie across passengers' laps until their spines tingled. That only served to make them feel more alive, and he more dead. He'd rattle sticks on school fences. The kids would cry. Often he'd cry too.
Some days, he'd visit himself in the hospital, kiss his wife, touch his daughter's hand, not sure whether he was ready for them to pull the plug or not.

Steph Ellis said...

The anti-crime initiative was proving a roaring success, the honey-trap resort disposing of hordes of the city’s conmen and killers.
Sammie was the bait to woo hoodlums through its gates, whilst her girls hawked their bodies to draw them deeper, leading them to the pit before stepping aside and letting them fall.

“Mighty hot round here,” said a new arrival, unable to take his eyes off Sammie. “Hotter ’n Hell.”

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it,” said Sammie, as she led him to the abyss. “Sometimes you just gotta burn.” Her only truth in a world of lies.

Beth Grace said...

Sam didn’t get to be governor of the Hawkeye state on one whopper. The lies built up slowly, like ice overtaking a lake. The early tendrils couldn’t hold his weight, but they didn’t need to. They were the underpinning for a life of mendacity.
I didn’t mind until he started bringing his work home.
He told me it was a mistake.
That he’d change. Woo hoo.
That he knew I’d never hurt him.
He didn’t know the last one was a lie. But I did.
He forgot I knew how to break the ice.

Lisa Ricard Claro said...

Brigadier Hawke paced in muddy boots, tapping a baton against his palm. His troops stood motionless.

He sighed. It was no lie he’d lost heart for this war play after high-ranking officials reassigned his co-commander, General Sam, to the city of Canberra.

Eyes teary, Hawke surrendered to his sense of utter defeat. Sarcasm standing at full attention he declared, “Woo-hoo and hoo-rah!” Not one of his troops blinked an eye. He slammed his hat and baton to the ground and stomped off, angry at parents everywhere.

His cap, stick, and green army men remained behind---the spoils of boyhood war.

Steve Stubbs said...

I was sipping fermented Canberra juice and cleaning my .44 magnum. It wasn't loaded. I'm a pacifist and afraid of guns. The .44 is just to fool everybody.

Before I got drunk enough to holler Woo Hoo, a friend walked in.

"Hey, Hawke, I was just thinking. My father's name is Sonny and my name's Sam. Does that make me the Sam of Sonny?"

"It makes you something. You have a .44 and live in Brooklyn. Talk to any dogs lately?"

"Yes, but she wouldn't go out with me."

"No lie. Of all the city luck. Well, that's the end of that story."

Amy Johnson said...

Someone was missing. Cardinal was there. Hawk. Eagle. Uncle’s souvenir from the city of Canberra—gone.

Samantha! Bad enough she always got perfect spelling scores. She also always took Lucy’s toys, then she’d lie about it, and Lucy would get in trouble for tattling.

Not this time. The personalized stationery was meant to encourage better writing skills. Lucy left the note on Samantha’s bed.


From the desk of Lucy Woo

Hoo stol mi berd???



Samantha ran to Mommy with it.

Surprisingly, Mommy smiled. “It’s merely a question.”

“Lucy said I took Kooka!”

“Samantha, no tattling. And give Lucy her bird.”

Karl Russell said...

Ellie had never seen the marketplace before - her parents had always said the city was too dangerous for their kind - so despite everything, the hawkers with their samples and shouting gave her a thrill of excitement and she wished Uncle would slow down.

He didn't though, hurrying her to a raised platform where he made her lie while he checked her womanhood. His shattered jaw made the word "woo'hood" but his rough fingers spoke clearly enough.

Then she was standing again, above the milling marketgoers, squinting at the sign Uncle hung round her neck:

"Orfun. Intac. $50"

Mallory Love said...

"Woo hoo!" The Canberra crowd shouts as we take the stage.

City after city, no matter the distance, it's always the same reaction. And we revel in it.

Hawkeye tunes his guitar. Snake twirls his drumsticks. I adjust the mic.

We have been together since college. Ten years on tour. Twelve number one hits. They both stood as best man at my wedding. Both are godfathers to my son. And last week, I discovered both are having an affair with my wife. Unbelievable.

They don't know it, but tonight will be our last show. They're going out with a bang.

Barbara Etlin said...

Zelda preened her feathers. "No wonder you can't attract a female owl. You lack charm, finesse. You are entirely ignorant of the art of romance."

"Mousefeathers!" Teddy shouted. "Lies! Am I to believe the advice of a hawk? Even the youngest owlet knows that fancy flying is what counts. Velocity trumps charm, any night."

"I may be just a hawk, but I know what a female likes. I know exactly what will win an owl's heart."

Teddy asked, "Oh, yeah? What?"

"To woo, hoot softly and carry a big stick to her nest," she whispered and flew into the night.

Lisa Bodenheim said...

Food hawkers fill the graveled, grease-odored square.

I pull my hood to cover my face.

Using my gruff voice, I ask, “Leathermaker tent?”

She points her shish-ka-bob. Blood from rare meat runs along her plump, reptilian arm. I avert my gaze from flesh-ladened teeth.

“Ta,” I lie.

Sentries stand, their mail metalwork gleaming, embedded in bulky chests. This era’s viscoelasticity. Woo hoo. I shudder and scurry along. The oversized cloak I’d filched envelopes me.

Inside the tent, I shrink from the hanging leatherskins—smooth and tattooed. Skin like mine.

No Samhain this.

I need to find that ingress into Canberracity.

Londyns said...

I’m at war with Canberra. We let nymphs defend and fire spirits attack because of same practicality. Hard to ship trees. It rained in my place: good for defense, bad for offence.
#
The gutter froze. The ice is burly, I'm not. My chainsaw can break it, but it's six feet under ice. A tree knocked it there yesterday.
"Are you a threat?"
"No."
"Lie. You smell like smoke."
Whack.
He handcuffed me with my handcuff and threw key down the gutter. "Woohoo!" Dances away.
These nymphs are sloppy. Canberra herself isn’t. I have to wait for spring to thaw keys.

RKeelan said...

"You can woo, hoodwink, exasperate, or confusticate him. Just keep him busy."

"How about poison? I’ve got coated sesame seeds we can sprinkle on his seed cake—"

"No killing! Talk to him."

"But I don’t want to hear about the dragon for the eleventieth time. And that big stupid hawk."

"Eagle."

"Whatever."

I prodded Lily toward the round, green door. "Remember—audacity’s better than mendacity, but either will do in a pinch."

"What are we stealing again?"

"The client’s a Big Person, all wrapped in black. He says he'll pay a pretty penny for any rings we can find."

flashfriday said...

--HELP! SHARK!!!!

--Not that I doubt your veracity, but--

--FINS EVERYWHERE!!!

--You also called earlier today?

--EYES LOOKING AT ME!!!

--Suspicious about some icy flotsams.

--DO SHARKS GROWL?? I JUST HEARD—

--Asked if they’re dangerous before they thaw. Keeled me over, that did, heehee.

--TEETH! TEETH!!!!!!!!!

--Called later about two oil slicks.

--SOMETHING BUMPED ME!

--Two! Oho!!!! Octopus twins, you feared, haha!

--IT BUMPED ME AGAIN!

--Probably an orca. NB, errant lobster here, hangon.

--BUT—

--Okeydokey, I’m back. You good?

--…

--Hello?

Just Jan said...

Dear Sire or Madam:

I am applying for the position of tying instructor at your city office. My qualifications are impeachable. I have eyes like a hawke.

I would very much lie to be part of your company and would appreciate the chance to woo hoo in person.

Very Truly Yours,

Sam I. M. Keene

****

Dear Sam:

Thank you for your delightful application. Regretfully, this posting has already been filled.

We are, however, searching for someone to coordinate our breakfast buffet. Suffice it to say the job is yours if you want it.

Regards,

Canberra Typing Services

LynnRodz said...

She lies awake. Why am I still here?

It's not your time to go.

What a life, she says.

Think of better times, you dancing to Glenn Miller, wearing your fur to the city.

The one with puffed sleeves like Joan Crawford's?

Yes, and dad serenading you with his guitar, and his Clark Gable dimples stealing your heart.

She smiles.

Remember you and dad leaving for Canberra and ending up in France? Woo hoo, he said, hawk-eyed Joe strikes again.

She grins, then falls asleep.

I drag myself to bed.

Tomorrow we'll repeat the same words again.

And again?

Linda Strader said...

Sam Hawke placed the tea in front of his mother. She eyed it suspiciously.

“Did you make it my way?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

“You aren’t lying to me, are you?”

“Never!”

Sam had landed a city job, taking him far away from his insufferable mother, but told her they’d turned him down. White lies didn’t count.

“Did you turn the stove off?”

He sighed. “Yes, Mother.”

She closed her eyes to nap.

Slipping out the door with his suitcase, he resisted a “woo hoo!” He didn’t quite turn off the stove. He’d left the gas on…