A Challenge

Rubecula

I saw this and thought to myself that I know a group of folks who could either do something better or do a story based on one of these.

OK folks can you do either?

http://www.tickld.com/cdn_image_article/a_220_20140302190015.jpg

Rubecula

My attempt:

The sad crying in work is getting to me. I don't want to be a coffin maker anymore.

The whistle of the kettle was alright until I noticed it was in my hand at the time.

The kind lady offered me more cake. I had attended her funeral last week.

The light wasn't working again. In the dark I heard a deep growling.

My wife's terrified gasping unnerved me. Especially so as I am a widower.

mathepac

With a slithery, sucking sound the fat worm pierced the decaying eye-ball. The move from farmyard to graveyard was proving beneficial.

Rubecula

mathepac I don't know why but I laughed at that one. Nervous tension? lol

Rubecula

Being left in the bottom of the pit alone was a silly joke. Then a hand gripped my ankle.

mathepac

With a loud thump the ugly, grinning skull landed in front of me. Then I noticed I was wearing mis-matched socks ...

Rubecula

Brilliant stuff, horrifying but funny too. I knew the folks in here could do better.

mathepac

The cloying smell of death and decay surrounded me and foul corruption choked me. Straining mightily, I pushed upwards against the inside of the coffin-lid

Rubecula

The warm guiding light helped me to find my way out of the darkness. I pushed out of the closing dirt, to be greeted with "Hello we have been waiting for you" in a dark demonic voice.

mathepac

I wasn't sure if it was the vague, splintering feeling in my chest that woke me or the snapping noises. Paralyzed, I watched the green-clad surgeon leave down the chest-cracker and reach for my heart.

mathepac

lads & lassies, let's be having ye

Agent Weebley

My arrest on Letsby Avenue for foul behaviour, and my subsequent sentence being a long one with seemingly no end, and me already forgetting the beginning, although always remembering my pleading insanity against counsel’s advice, now affording me lots of time to surf the net and openly critique the smallest of points on blogs all over the world – e.g. giving me the time to look long and hard at the double sentences in Rubecula’s opening post and hyperlink, thinking most of the sentences would better be joined with a semi-colon – yes, a semi-colon – reminding me once more I should have plead terminal Crohnenberg’s Disease instead, as my counsel would have had a colourful closing argument to mitigate my sentence, as no jury member would want to experience caring for me in this place after half my colon has been removed, with my demise almost guaranteed to be Cholera, infecting other inmates and guards alike. Having no pen, I explode another batch of liquid aimed generally for the bog, but ricocheting off the bowl and all over the place, as I begin to write this 2 sentence combo penlessly on the walls - then, after correcting minor errors in tense as best I can with my “smudge and re-write technique,” quite an involved couple of sentences in the present imperfect tense it is turning out to be, finally sitting back on said bog, crossing my arms, liking it, then typing the finished piece into my computer and pressing “post,” I call the guards for a clean-up in cell 3.5.

PS: Sorry. Another delay in getting that story written - don't hold your breath, Rubecula! I must admit though, this exercise really got the creative juices flowing - after being bunged up for so long. Thanks. I feel good now, although many of you will be thinking the opposite . . .

GalwayGuy2

The mother never minded when her youngest crawled into her bed at night.

Until she heard her call from the kitchen...

Rubecula

She liked seeing her name in print. Until she read it halfway down the menu of the restaurant she was in.