Contest results!-FINAL

I was very glad to have your contest entries to cheer me up since I had to leave Her Grace, the Duchess of Yowl on Sunday morning. I hadn't been able to talk her real mom into a spontaneous trip around the world in order to extend my stay.

As always, the depth of talent among the readers of this blog is daunting.

Special recognition for using words I had to look up:

urial: Kat Waclawik

ergot: Kat Waclawik

lepton: Joey Collard

Special recognition for what should become an all time classic line:
Kat Waclawik

“We need an ingredient,” an eyeless newt sneers. “Heart of witch.”

Special recognition for one of the very best starts to an entry EVER: 
Michael Seese

Whiskers weighed down by the morning dew, I struggled to leo-locate my backyard. I could have sworn I left it here somewhere.

Special recognition for a compelling image:

RosannaM

We held hands as our clothes mated in the dryer.

Here are the entries that stood out for me:

Amy Schaefer

A woman perched on the next barstool. “Pretty owl.”
“Thanks.” Owl, cursed concoction of wires and flesh – tomatoh-tomahto.
“Greetings,” squawked Xavier.
She dimpled. We chatted.
I hoped.
Xavier and I hunt as a pack. If he would just keep quie—
Xavier unfurled his filament-whiskers. “Madame, have you ever considered buying land on one of the outer planets? It just so happens… today… amazing oppor-tu-ni…” He trailed off in a series of purrs and whirrs.
She sneered and left.
I sighed and scratched my dementia-ravaged telemarketowl. “It’s okay. We’ll find someone to feed us.”
A woman perched on the next barstool.

If only for the idea of a telemarketowl, this entry is wonderful! And I'm always a sucker for a circular narrative. 

Claire Bobrow

It came out of nowhere,

that scary surprise,

lying prone on the floor -

playing dead, I realized.

Meow!

I unleashed

a loud caterwaul

to scare the bad thing

out the door, down the hall.

The clock struck 3:30 -

a.m., let’s be clear.

My servant ran forth,

all atremble with fear:

“What’s that yowling, dear Duchess? Please settle your fur.

“Would a whisker of tuna help bring back your purr?”

I threw her a sneer, arched my back, looked askance.

A plastic bag fright calls for more, said my stance.

“Beluga!” I hissed, “or you’re working freelance.”

Of course, it's always a special treat to have a poem for a story, but what made this stand out for me was the last line. It absolutely captured Her Grace in a nutshell.

french sojourn

"You’re saying, the sun sneezed …and fried anything with circuitry.”

“Yep, a massive solar flare.”

“Well, can we make more circuits?” he asked, nervously rubbing his shaggy whiskers.

“Nope, technology’s dead.” I spurred him on.

“So, it’s…”

“Set the way-back machine to 500 A.D. Sherman, to the dark ages, again.”

“Fuck sake, how we gonna live?” he sneered as a furious glint crossed his eyes.

“Easy.” I nodded in the direction behind him.

As he turned to look, I swung my hammer and caved in the back of his skull. A yowl escaped his lips, followed by his soul.

“Cannibalism”.

You had me at sun sneezed. That's such a wonderful phrase and while the purists are going to have conniptions, I think it's a wonderful metaphor.

And really, it's hard not to love a story with time travel AND cannibalism.

Sherry Howard

Barn Food Chain

T’was ‘n eerie night at the barn. Full of shadows and mews.
Fuzzy owl searched for his favorite little kitty.
He needed the purrfect location to meet his furry new friend.
He’d put the time in. Kitty loved to play with him.
Hide and seek. Chase the mice. Share a snack.
Now the time had come—before Kitty got any bigger.
A plan. A pounce. No caterwauling about.
He’d whisk ‘er off her paws and enjoy some playful times with her.
Kitty waited. She’d brought her Daddy, Wild Cat, to meet her new friend.
Surprise!

The End.

Honestly there's probably something wrong with me that I love these kind of twisted stories, but I do!

Just Jan

It buzzed in without warning.

“Imperfect,” it droned.

“I-M-P-U-R-R-“

Zap!

“Yow!” Leo skedaddled under the rug.

“Insufferable.”

Vlad gave us his trademark sneer. “I-N-S-U-F-F-U-R-“

Zap!

We snickered into our whiskers as he scampered back to Mummy.

“Caterwaul!”

There was a collective mew at the sound of the forbidden word. Queens covered their eyes. Even the old tom in the corner was quaking.

Berthilde strolled to the center of the room, pupils wide and focused. One paw struck like lightning. With a grimace, she swallowed the offender in one gulp. “Never did like spelling bees,” she muttered.

I'm a sucker for a good pun, and this one is purr-fect.

Unknown

“Szechuan down,” she said, as the boys filed in from the field. “Sneer as I can tell, you boys is famished! I’ll fix some food fur yowl.” Her purr love of cooking made her whisker self to the kitchen, where she laid out the everyday china.
Soon she had made about one ton of soup (and fortunately she had enough cookies for dessert). She thought about inviting her German neighbor, Mrs. Hottensauer, but decided against it, reflecting that “Ever since my husband came back from Siamese against having fureign guests!”
“It’s ready!” she called out to the boys. “No Peking!”

I don't even know where to start.
This is utterly wonderful.
Not only is it a deft use of prompt words, it's dexterity with language itself.
I'm in awe.

Sherin Nicole

_ shh txt...grumpy owl is listening
_ we cld kill him??
_ we’d get xtra cred 4 knife skills
_ and As for irony
_ who even needs cooking class in our biz?
_ idk…kinda like potions for wizards??
[BURP]
_ UR really cool
_ it’s da fumes from da poison he’s mixing
_ stinky sulfur
_ welp he’s da devil
_ …but calls us ne’er-do-wells??
_ totes not gunna pass
_ got a plan?
_ kitchen accidents r deadly
_ utensil to da head??
_ whisk error…ur such a schemer
_ I owe it all to assn school.

This is giving Mr. Forti a run for his money!

Amy Johnson

QOTKU: What’s this?

DoY: My entry.


“Throw me a party,” I instruct her, as I preen serenely.

”Shall I make a guest list?”

“I made my own list.”

“Party games?”

“Twhisker.”

“Twister?”

“That’s what you call it.”

“Kibble?”

“The guest list indicates the menu.”

Tatiana
Ursula
Natascha
Anastasia

“Caviar?!”

“Nooooooooo!”

“Your Grace, what do you want then?”

“I want you to stop interrupting my caterwauling, figure out what I want served, and pet my scruff.”


QOTKU: No dice. You need to use the prompt words: yowl, fur, purr, sneer, whisker. And follow the rules.

DoY: I make my own rules.

I laughed so hard at this my neighbors called to ask if I'd adopted a hyena.
That last line makes me laugh every single time I read it.

Rkeelan

Susurrafax had silver-grey fur like a hoary old oak and a sneer fit to cast one down.

Most pressingly, he had a slavering beast’s jaws clamped around his neck. “Any last words?” it said.

Susurrafax’s whisker twitched. “A last request: to taste the forbidden fruit before I die.”

In the kitchen, Susurrafax indicated a cabinet. “In there. The tall cylinder.”

The beast pinned Susurrafax to the ground with a massive paw and nosed the door open.

It tore the cylinder open, devouring the dark brown powder within, ignoring Susurrafax’s yowls of false outrage and the purring beneath.

Get it?
And regular readers of the flash fiction contests will recognize Susurrafax from previous entries!

Dan Castro

I massage Waffles’ fur, working fingers behind thick whiskers.
He purrs.
Growls.
I stop. Waffles is dangerous.
He snarls at the door. I go, hand brushing faux jungle. Swing the squeaky door open.
Step out.
In the darkness, a man. With rifle.
He steps up, sneering. Butts the rifle into my stomach.
I yowl. Collapse.
“Where’s your elephant?”
My hand keeps the enclosure door ajar.
“WHERE?!”
I glance across the compound. Instinct.
He nods. Smiles sickly.
“No witnesses.” He raises his rifle. I cringe…when from the enclosure, the orange-black-white comet of Waffles, 500 pounds of Bengal tiger, crushes the poacher.

I love the concept of this story!  


I think I know who the winner will be but I like hearing what all y'll think before posting.

Look for final results around noon, so weigh in sooner rather than later! 

UPDATE:
So, I meant noon in Samoa, not NYC!

Ok, I've been contemplating and the entry that makes me laugh every time I read it just has to be this week's winner: Amy Johnson!

Amy if you'll drop me an email and let know your mailing address, we can also figure out a great prize for you.

Thanks to all of you who took the time to write and post entries. It really helped get through the bleak Sunday departure from Her Grace, the Duchess of Yowl.