tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post1465963026948591953..comments2024-03-18T09:09:59.625-04:00Comments on Janet Reid, Literary Agent: I spy a writing contest!Janet Reidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-4151333587127378032013-08-04T08:50:45.903-04:002013-08-04T08:50:45.903-04:00Blitzed before happy hour then another damn blacko...Blitzed before happy hour then another damn blackout. I’m too old for this. The blurry scenes flashing through my mind are more MTV than YouTube.<br /> <br />Need to piss, but there’s a sledgehammer hanging up there. It’s gonna come down if I move my head. I tell myself the images are from dreams, but I know they’re memories even before I look down at the dried blood on my knuckles, the dirt on the clothes crumpled in the corner. Not my finest moment. Just hope I buried him deep enough.<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-17865702808725459862013-08-04T08:43:17.364-04:002013-08-04T08:43:17.364-04:00“TV’s on the blitz,” said Twelve.
“That’s ‘fritz,...“TV’s on the blitz,” said Twelve.<br /><br />“That’s ‘fritz,’ dear,” said Helen, kicking it. The tube ignored her, clinging to blackout like the drops of drool at Twelve’s lower lip. <br /><br />“Made by dummkopfs, no doubt,” said Twelve. He glared at the TV, which hastily flickered into service. “Now, woman, it’s donnerbalken hour. Kindly escort me.”<br /><br />“Clever man! But no, I won’t take you; you’ve diapers, remember?”<br /><br /> “Dinner, then. Or does the Reich forbid that now too? I barely recognize Berlin anymore.”<br /><br />“That’s because it’s London, darling.” Kissing him tenderly, Helen left England’s once-finest superspy staring out the window in angry confusion.<br /><br />-Rebekah PostupakAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-60140565621857403922013-08-04T08:42:05.578-04:002013-08-04T08:42:05.578-04:00Trussed to the hospital bed by tubes and wires, he...Trussed to the hospital bed by tubes and wires, he couldn’t escape the blitz. Even a feigned blackout didn’t get rid of them. <br /><br />“Please tell us she’s not in your will,” his oldest said. <br /><br />I’m fine; thanks for asking.<br /><br />“She did this to you.”<br /><br />Maybe, but it had been worth it. <br /><br />Grandchildren, dressed in their finest, whispered, “That gold digger wants our money.” <br /><br />Their money? When had they worked sixteen-hour days?<br /><br />A pen was pressed into his hand. “Sign.”<br /><br />Why not? His money was gone. <br /><br />“We’ll take care of you now.”<br /><br />Good. The hospital bill was going to be huge.<br />Sheila JGhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15371582292020275894noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-23168988822272826242013-08-04T08:33:46.854-04:002013-08-04T08:33:46.854-04:00An hour slips with ease over martinis with ganache...An hour slips with ease over martinis with ganache. Two women, wary dancers each, spar for verbal conquest, all in good fun.<br /><br />The eldest relaxes for the first time in months. This time, her safety assured in documents doctored by her own hand.<br /><br />“If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself.”<br /><br />Her companion glides the tube from beneath a fluttery sleeve. A blitz of giggles, a planted kiss her finest distraction, before a magician’s twist releases the blade instead of the powder.<br /><br />This time a permanent blackout’s required. “This time, there’s one name you forgot, Mother.”<br />KarinB.https://www.blogger.com/profile/01329305872666186541noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-59062328154298995312013-08-04T08:24:57.007-04:002013-08-04T08:24:57.007-04:00 “Finest hour, my ass.” Carlisle loosened Basi... “Finest hour, my ass.” Carlisle loosened Basil’s corset laces. <br /><br /> Basil inhaled, regained color. “Why do you care? You didn’t suffer a blackout.” <br /><br /> “You ruined the scene.”<br /><br /> “The way you blitzed onstage, not even the groundlings knew anything was amiss.”<br /><br /> “They’re not called groundlings, anymore.”<br /><br /> “I’m summoning the period.” <br /> <br /> “Summon your inner Juliet. Your cue’s coming.” <br /><br /> Basil smoothed Carlisle’s wimple. “I did you a favor. Elevated your role.” <br /> <br /> “What, from nurse to doctor?” Carlisle twisted a tube of Romeo Red and slashed it across Basil’s pale lips, smudged some on his cheeks. <br /><br /> Basil captured his hand. “Nay. My drama queen.”Writer of Wrongshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04542818490324422576noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-61199910126086902782013-08-04T08:24:09.637-04:002013-08-04T08:24:09.637-04:00“One more tube of lemon-yellow. Flourishes, carefu...“One more tube of lemon-yellow. Flourishes, careful, careful.”<br /><br />“That’s nice...”<br /><br />“A blitz of candied violets for the finish. A spun sugar crown, and done!”<br /><br />“But...”<br /><br />“Here we have it-my finest sugar-blackout Divorce cake.”<br /><br />“I’m not...”<br /><br />“One hour after eating yours, ten years of marital misery will melt away.”<br /><br />“I was really...”<br /><br />“Two hours after sending his, your former partner will follow suit.”<br /><br />“I’m not...”<br /><br />“The piece de resistance, why, frosted arsenic on his rose petals.”<br /><br />“I’m actually looking for a wedding cake.”<br /><br />“Oh, well. Come see me in a few years then. Never mind about the petals.”<br />travelkathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11426278220374969079noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-79863194412449122072013-08-04T08:23:33.442-04:002013-08-04T08:23:33.442-04:00Winston lit a candle and set the table with their ...Winston lit a candle and set the table with their finest china. He rolled it closer to his wife’s bed as she slept.<br /><br />Clementine used to surprise him just like this, using the dinner hour to say I love you. They would get blitzed on red wine, eat a gourmet meal and talk about their children and grandchildren, then retire to the same bed and blackout until morning. <br /><br />The heart monitor bleeped. The feeding tube slinked down like a venomous snake from the IV drip into her veins. Clementine took her last breath.<br /><br />Winston raised his glass.<br /><br />“Goodbye, my love.”Scott Ghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00293362485142152780noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-83713561518158197232013-08-04T07:46:55.190-04:002013-08-04T07:46:55.190-04:00The fart of her dying toothpaste tube jolts me awa...The fart of her dying toothpaste tube jolts me awake, drenched, from blackout sleep. An hour before dawn, I slip out the door with yesterday’s shirt balled in my hand. “Blitzkrieg Bop,” this week’s ringtone, rumbles from my pocket before I’m down the stairs. I’d talk to her but her platitudes make everything worse. <br /><br />Absent the crutch of tomorrow’s routine, weekends are always darkest. From the bridge, the streetlights are a billion bouncing pennies on the water. <br /><br />“Keep it moving,” says one of New York’s Finest alongside the stanchion. <br /><br />If it ever happens, it won’t be witnessed. I sprint home.<br />Jared Xhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14717555776469970002noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-81370573285996487412013-08-04T05:55:30.882-04:002013-08-04T05:55:30.882-04:00“Exactly where do you think you’re going dressed l...“Exactly where do you think you’re going dressed like that, young lady?”<br /><br />I debated lying as I swung around to find Mum with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. But she always knows! I took a deep breath. “I’m catching the <b>tube</b> with some friends and we’re going to <b>Blitz</b>, the new nightclub in town.”<br /><br />Mum grabbed my arm and dragged me back down the hallway. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Some ass-hole will spike your drink, and you’ll either <b>blackout</b> or he’ll have his <b>finest hour</b> with you in the back lane.”<br />KayChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16267506508468548195noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-45661843566560127232013-08-04T01:48:06.917-04:002013-08-04T01:48:06.917-04:00April 1941.
Her ears hear only the dark after th...April 1941.<br /> <br />Her ears hear only the dark after this blitz; after the bombs...a silent, moonlit, midnight hour.<br /><br />Margaret pulled the ragged blackout curtains aside not worrying about lights, there were no lights – only moonlight. The walls had holes, lots of holes but it felt normal to peer through the window...broken glass. <br /><br />Moonlit air filled with smoky, gritty dust and an unspeakable smell tasting of concrete and death...more death...moved wraith-like revealing the shining black tube smoldering in the dirt; impassive, immutable, unexploded. Germany’s finest gift to Bristol sits waiting in the rubble below...waiting...waiting. <br />Kate Higginshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09861373649696211491noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-27727503616864633962013-08-04T01:47:26.895-04:002013-08-04T01:47:26.895-04:00Every species has a predator.
However, the rabbi...<br />Every species has a predator. <br /><br />However, the rabbit doesn't ponder the hawk's intentions. It just cringes when the shadow crosses its path. I imagine my prey feels that chill right before the blitz. <br /><br />Camouflage is my first weapon. A tube of blackout lipstick and I'm a Goth. A tweed jacket and I'm a professor. Whatever it takes to cross her path. <br /><br />I was about to call it a night when I heard the click of a wobbly high-heel shoe on the dark sidewalk. <br /><br />I fell in behind her savoring the thought of the upcoming hour: my finest, her final. <br />Terri Lynn Coophttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07290316565247120848noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-3281795152190557542013-08-04T00:41:26.147-04:002013-08-04T00:41:26.147-04:00The honking great bomb lay in a pile of rubble sti...The honking great bomb lay in a pile of rubble still smoking from last night’s edition of the Blitz. It was ticking.<br /><br />We who defused unexploded bombs wondered if you heard the click before the detonation – terminal blackout for that UXB team member. <br /><br />Even the finest in the business missed tricks that the Germans put into some of their bombs – some, not all. Spring-loaded relays. Delay timers. That ticked.<br /><br />This bugger was even right side up. Next to a tube station. How many hours had it ticked? <br /><br />Four screws and the cover plate came off.<br /><br />Peered in.<br /><br />Click.<br />Lancehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17335923263777449916noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-7014968697059897842013-08-04T00:40:05.397-04:002013-08-04T00:40:05.397-04:00His hair is so blonde. I stare closely at his pic...His hair is so blonde. I stare closely at his picture. <br />“He looks like a Jarod,” I smile. Pain blitzes my heavy heart. My premature baby is covered with tubes. “He’s so tiny.”<br />“Don’t worry, Hon. We’ve got the finest nurses here. Besides, you can visit him anytime in the NICU, except during blackout, from two to two-thirty.”<br />I lay my camera down, arms hungry for my infant. I delivered him three hours ago, and still hadn’t cradled him, kissed his tiny fingers, or smelled his sweet skin. I needed to hear his voice.<br />“When can I hold him?”<br />Kimberly Kinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08634112435898967496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-32161616166224160852013-08-03T23:37:26.934-04:002013-08-03T23:37:26.934-04:00"This is our finest model," I reassure h..."This is our finest model," I reassure her. "Even another Blitz couldn't damage it."<br /><br />"And they're monitored around the clock?"<br /><br />"Every hour." I help her climb inside the metallic tube. Her hands are shaking.<br /><br />"They'll wake me as soon as there's a cure?"<br /><br />"Of course. Try to relax. You'll blackout in about ten seconds."<br /><br />I press a button, and her new home hisses closed around her. Another button drops the temperature and a third pumps in preservative gas. I walk away, knowing the company will be out of business before somebody finds a way to reverse the process of aging.Just Janhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12546035917149403735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-86500592943565181992013-08-03T23:27:31.868-04:002013-08-03T23:27:31.868-04:00Her eyes were lidded in pastels, curls kissed her ...Her eyes were lidded in pastels, curls kissed her cheeks, she wore the finest gown. Meticulously she patted a heavy layer of wax onto her lips.<br /><br />"He's looking for you," someone said. <br /><br />She applied her lipstick, left the tube near the sink, and headed back.<br /><br />He was there immediately, twirling her through the crowd, smiling with perfect teeth. In the middle of the ballroom he kissed her and fell to the floor. During blitz that ensued she escaped down the palace steps. His blackout would last an hour. Her freedom would last a lifetime. <br /><br />It would be Cinderella's last ball.Asheshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12797621675670255704noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-22139912838236611242013-08-03T23:16:47.447-04:002013-08-03T23:16:47.447-04:00I’m certain my wife would have killed me, if I did...I’m certain my wife would have killed me, if I didn’t act first. Fortunately, my neighbor’s a doctor of sorts and offered to handle my delicate problem in exchange for handyman services. My smoopie doodles was changing by the hour and I couldn’t bear another minute of her whining.<br /> “I don’t want her to feel anything,” I said.<br /> “No worries. I’ve something to get her sufficiently blitzed. She’ll blackout within minutes.”<br /> “She never should’ve gone out alone. Obedience was never—”<br /> “Relax. You’ve hired the finest. Yours isn’t the first Boston Terrier to snag a protuberant eye on a stick.”Steven D.https://www.blogger.com/profile/07376948819582291041noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-38977818844369458682013-08-03T23:05:23.265-04:002013-08-03T23:05:23.265-04:00It was supposed to last a day, maybe two. To diver...It was supposed to last a day, maybe two. To divert electricity to the hospital till the heat wave broke. So they could attend to all the wounded.<br /><br />Lizzie cleared out the fridge. Spent her days at the makeshift shelters.<br /><br />As usual, Martin said it didn't concern him. Didn't know any of 'em. He grabbed their finest bottle of scotch--the one she'd been saving--and spent the entire blackout floating in an inner tube blitzed out of his mind.<br /><br />He never saw her drop the downed power line into the pool.<br /><br />Three hours later, the power came back on.Nate Wilsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09690171790664252309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-2959073307185247702013-08-03T22:26:37.133-04:002013-08-03T22:26:37.133-04:00An hour later, he woke up inside the arteries of t...An hour later, he woke up inside the arteries of the Jolly Green Giant. <br /><br />"Wha' happen back there?"<br /><br />Whatever it was, was his fault. He told Sheldon about the trapdoor at Aunty Mavis's. The forgotten branch of the lava tube it dropped you into. <br /><br />"Brah, I'm blitzed." <br /><br />"Just the pakalolo. Island's finest." <br /><br />"Nah, more'n dat." <br /><br />They drank with Aunty-- some kava, he thought. <br /><br />"Try hold dis." Shel handed him a pillowcase. Aunty's linen. Something light and thin clinked inside. <br /><br /> Shel stood, holding his own stuffed case. "Aloha, man." <br /><br />The first blackout lasted an hour. The next one was permanent. <br />Naomihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10958452663086930405noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-18931750510546494812013-08-03T21:12:14.559-04:002013-08-03T21:12:14.559-04:00Life began in a blitz. My very first sensations co...Life began in a blitz. My very first sensations comprised darkness---a total blackout---and a great shaking like the universe coming apart at its seams. Then warmth, radiant and god-like. <br /><br />The pull of suction, followed by a swell of stage fright. My hour had come, like my father before me.<br /><br />I entered the tube. <br /><br /><i>This was it.</i><br /> <br />A chance at more than the frigid, frozen existence of my peers, to excel beyond the false promises of a cash-poor donor at the sperm bank. <br /><br />I would become the test tube’s finest. <br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-81510216625963265722013-08-03T21:04:52.139-04:002013-08-03T21:04:52.139-04:00At 3:46 the lights flicker, stranding the tube rid...At 3:46 the lights flicker, stranding the tube riders in the eerie glow of idling cell phones.<br />At 3:47, Finn knocks out the obstreperous station guard and rushes into the darkness.<br />He speeds towards the sizzling circuit breaker, hoping it's not too late.<br />Two weeks before, he had received a text from Alice Churchill: ex-history professor, professional heart-breaker, former MI5 agent.<br />He responds, "Allow me to shed some light on our historical debate."<br />But she only re-sends her last text:<br />"Sorry about our previous date. How about dinner on me, June 18th, instead?<br />Explosive blitz: Tube.<br />Blackout.<br />Finest Hour?"<br />BPhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16407715408242911362noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-29689323054677921482013-08-03T20:13:44.691-04:002013-08-03T20:13:44.691-04:00"Sure I was blitzed, mate," Hobo Jim con..."Sure I was blitzed, mate," Hobo Jim confessed. He sported the finest in patched attire, a well-chewed cigar stumping out from the undergrowth around his mouth. "But I know what I seen."<br /><br />"Little green men," I said. "Sure."<br /><br />"They wasn't green."<br /><br />"How could you tell during Blackout Hour?"<br /><br />"And they wasn't so little, neither."<br /><br />"And also not aliens." I pointed the weapon at him. You wouldn't think a tiny tube could be so compelling.<br /><br />But maybe it was how my head split wide. Or maybe it was Waldo, waving howdy from inside.<br /><br />"And also not aliens," he agreed.JD Paradisehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07945134213244873038noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-58895952447617287182013-08-03T20:00:27.481-04:002013-08-03T20:00:27.481-04:00'You made him blackout?' He asks, his tone...'You made him blackout?' He asks, his tone incredulous.<br /><br />Despite his disappointment I'm thankful. It's the first real emotion I've heard since the blitz. I'd assumed it mostly eradicated.<br /><br />'Sorry. Next time I'll remember to readjust the settings' I mutter sarcastically, nodding towards the dented metal tube I hold. Not my finest comeback, but the blood's spilling, and I'm freaking.<br /><br />'You stay, you kill' he instructs mechanically, feelings hour evidently over.<br /><br />The second swing brings on my tears and the chicken's death.<br /><br />'I'm vegetarian' I supply in explanation.<br /><br />He shakes his head. <br /><br />'Not anymore. Now you're simply alive or dead'.<br /><br /><br />Brighttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04404682134487083817noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-37012318029564937812013-08-03T19:53:54.523-04:002013-08-03T19:53:54.523-04:00She knelt at the handsome stranger’s feet, gazed i...<i>She knelt at the handsome stranger’s feet, gazed into his bedroom eyes then slowly unzipped his pants and took his tube. . .</i><br /><br />NO! Mother would be aghast! Mother would surely suffer a blackout, or rail against this sordid tale of wanton sexuality! Somehow, she’d try to sully this--her teenaged daughter’s finest hour as a writer of erotic fiction! Well, screw you, Mother! Your daughter’s about to blitz the literary world, knock it soundly on its righteous ass. . .<br /><br />No. Your only daughter is about to lock her diary again, words buried as deeply as her unrequited dreams.kkbehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12098996085873332607noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-52379824152783754032013-08-03T18:26:06.931-04:002013-08-03T18:26:06.931-04:00It seemed like a good idea. Shot-gunning the last ...It seemed like a good idea. Shot-gunning the last can of Blitz – what could possibly go wrong? He’d only had a tube of Fosters or three. Maybe six, tops. The world wasn’t spinning, and he hadn’t ralphed. Life was nicely blurred around the edges, like a hipster picture on Instagram. <br />“Shot! Gun! Shot! Gun!” They screamed.<br />He was happy to oblige.<br />When he woke up after the blackout, all the screamers had disappeared. He was alone in the grass, his shirt bunched around his neck and his shoes gone.<br />Not his finest hour. Hungover ,barefoot, and alone. Still, he smiled.<br />Julie O'Connellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06370341772919010450noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-58012077427398574202013-08-03T18:26:02.928-04:002013-08-03T18:26:02.928-04:00The communications blackout on the far side of the...The communications blackout on the far side of the moon usually made Jake feel uneasy. Today it brought welcome relief from the blitz of reports coming from earth. It had been 36 hours since an unknown substance began filling the atmosphere and blocking the light of the sun. The crew of the Multinational Lunar Orbiting Station had collected samples on their last trip past earth. The finest particles of the substance were enclosed in a glass tube on Jake’s workstation. Even if he could identify them, he doubted it would be in time.Donna McNielhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03332828457642739240noreply@blogger.com