In the comments, use the 10 random words below to create a cohesive, creative short story tying all the words together. And remember: after you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words (if you’ve missed some challenges, go back and try those too).
- Daydreamer
- Silkworms
- Painkillers
- You got lucky
- Catcall
- Phobia
- Iron-ore
- Wavelength
- Closed fist
- Desire
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Well, this one was a little more difficult for me for some reason:
They call you a daydreamer, but they just don’t realize that when you get hit with a closed fist you start operating on a different wavelength.
The painkillers you are taking have not only given you a catcall phobia, but the desire to combine silkworms and iron-ore to get very tough silk fabric.
You got lucky, except for the unusual phobia, because now you will be able to daydream all you want, due to all the money the government will pay you for the light weight, strong, silk fabric.
Steve, that was insane! Loved it. Somehow, I expected these words would take us on a strange course today.
(Considering my current health situation, this one easily wrote itself)
I’m a daydreamer.
It’s a prerequisite; I’m hooked on painkillers.
Sure, I have addiction phobia, but my pain phobia is greater, so popping pills is my only desire right now.
You got lucky if you don’t need any. Enjoy my one-finger catcall to you. Better yet, here’s an iron-ore, closed fist you can suck on… you lucky bastard.
Yeah, I’m not on your wavelength, but you live where the pain lives, so I’m content being alone in my clouded reality where random thoughts of silkworms, silly putty and nothingness rule.
And don’t disturb me unless the building is burning …or you have some OzyContin for sale. Do you? Do you?
I hope your health situation is only temporary. It sounds like it is good for the creative juices though.
Indeed!
Love your creative “catcall” line!
Thank you army mom. Where’s your submission? Get to it!
Why thank you.
Shane,
Silkworms and silly putty… goofy, but that’s the part that caught me. I can’t stop rolling the words over on my tongue.
silkworms, silly putty…
Hope the new doc is taking good care of you.
Regards,
Kelly
Thanks. I enjoyed writing those few words. Docs are doing their best.
The three of them gathered under the cover of darkness late one Saturday night. The Leader was the oldest. She had the most experience in matters at hand. She has worked with the male of the group the longest. He has had her back on numerous occasions. Even ones more dangerous than this one. He’s the closest thing she has to a best friend.
The third was the newest recruit. She had been with them a little over a year, with most of the time committed to training rather than out in the field. She was the daydreamer of the group. Often she would stop in the middle of an exercise and start dancing for no particular reason. As if there were a party music frequency wavelength pumped directly into her head.
Time for action was quickly creeping closer. If all goes to plan, the three of them will have the objects of their desire in as little as ten minutes.
Their inside man had made arrangements for security to be as light as possible. The window of opportunity was going to be very small. If they didn’t accomplish their mission tonight, who knows what hands the prize might fall into.
They waited quietly for the signal. The Leader heard the catcall signal from their inside man.
It was go time.
The door was unlocked just like they planned. They spread out and moved along the ground like a small militia of silkworms to avoid detection. They hugged shadows to avoid casting any themselves.
There were four other known people in the building. Inside man and three others. They knew where the inside man was and how he would avoid the area, but the unscheduled actions of the other three were the only flaws to what could be the perfect heist.
This was part of the plan where The Leader could feel things going wrong in her stomach. Anxiety set in. A phobia if you will of failure. Worse yet. Being caught. She noticed a light coming from one of the rooms. She lifted her right hand into a closed fist. It was the signal to stop. The Rookie was late to stop and her foot clipped a stand that held a cheap iron-ore sculpture.
It started to wobble back and forth. All the planning was going to be for nothing all because she wasn’t paying full attention but signing “Boom Boom Pow” in her head.
The sculpture stopped.
The Leader looked back at The Rookie and gave her a stern “you got lucky” glare.
Five feet of open space separated them from their prize. The Male was the best at vertical scaling. He moved into the point position and started climbing. The two females were smiling with anticipation. The spoils of this score could last them a good month or two if they rationed it responsibly.
He had it. This was easier than he thought. He put the prize in his backpack for the climb back down. They just had to make it out of there before…
The door opened and the room filled with light from the other room. The silhouette of the owner filled the doorway. He hadn’t seen them yet. His attention was still directed to the others inside.
“….get some water and some painkillers for this back pain. You need anything from the kitchen?”
“Maybe some chocolate.” Came a female voice.
He flicked the light on and the three kids were dead to rights where they sat.
“What the?!?”
Loreli and Araceli sat on the floor while Seth was standing on a chair with the candy from their cousin’s piñata in his backpack. Their dad’s look was that of frustration and amusement.
Mission, failed.
Eric,
Scheming children, what a concept!
Just was with my nine year old granddaughter and her friend for about three hours yesterday, and this is just the kind of thing they would come up with.
Eric, seriously consider writing a book where you take all of your daily happenings and turn them all into mimi mystery adventures like this. I think this is your trademark style calling you.
Great job.
sefcug, well they have a new sister so give them a year and they could probably pull this off with perfection and no incidents.
shane, you are very kind. i actually started a creative writing blog because of this site and everyone’s inspiring and kind comments. My wife has told me many times the same thing you just did. Maybe you just gave me confirmation.
While writing this though, it reminded me a little of Rugrats.
Congratulations on the new site, Eric!
You can do it. You are awesome.
Awesome Eric. Don’t look back. Just keep on doing it man.
Good for you.
ps. and if you ever want to tinker with a wordpress blog, check out this video tutorial: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wot0kkN05us
Then get you some Thesis theme at diythemes.com and you’re on your way to stardom.
Oh, that was so much fun! I totally didn’t see the ending coming. Loved it
Eric,
I seriously got the idea that it was gorillas. “The male,” “the female”… but when the sculpture got tipped I gave that up and couldn’t guess at all. Excellent surprise ending, and very true to kids’ own sense that they are the center of big intrigues. Loved it.
Everyone had always said she was a beautiful girl. Everywhere she went she was showered with compliments and admiring glances. She was used to this and had learned to take it in stride. Mother nature had indeed been very kind and generous to a fault. As she walked, her long, luxurious hair in the sunshine appeared to be woven by silkworms. All of this aside, she had a good head on her shoulders. She was not usually a daydreamer or someone who had a phobia of having to work hard to achieve success. She had the desire to be so much more than a pretty face and wanted to be taken seriously. So on this particular day, as she passed the construction site and had to listen to one more catcall, she was just not in the mood! There he was, another arrogant asshole who presumed she would be on the same wavelength as to find his vulgarities appealing. Wellll, he was wrong! As he blocked her path he never counted on her closed fist with the strength of an iron ore hammer catching him square in the nose! “You got lucky I wasn’t in a bad mood today”, she flung over her shoulder as she kept walking. He would be on painkillers for a long time!
So the saying is true, “Don’t mess with Ma!”
Loved it. I’m wearing a smile now.
Great job, as always, Ma.
Minutes melt as a daydreamer.
Right now I am a silkworm in a shoebox, crowded with a hundred others, each of us trying to spin our thread.
Addicted to the painkillers of bad TV and trashy magazines.
You got lucky.
The catcalls from the casting agents placed you center stage.
I’m still sitting on the couch with a carton of three day old chinese food and a thousand and one phobias.
There is iron-ore inside me. I will find it.
This wavelength is dead.
I stand from the couch, closed fist and back straight.
I am the engine. Desire is the gas.
Very nice. I’m kind of in this stage right now.
I change my mind. Sean “bad-ass” Platt is your new name.
Another daydreamer on the same wavelength! With your phobia about painkillers you got lucky you don’t like silkworms or desire them. Iron-ore is a Casey cure. When carried in a closed fist; it works despite catcalls.
Oh Bleepity bleep! Anne, you may have just knocked out all contenders with that gem.
Awesome.
Awww – you say the sweetest things (blush)
Painkillers, anyone? John’s penis hurts. He found some silkworms crawling through his veins this morning, and he presumes they were diabolically inserted after a ravenous encounter with the 1-900-CATCALL escort.
She was quite the looker and he was mesmerized with her wavelength the moment she knocked on his door. You’d think John was dreaming when, without a word, she guided his closed fist and demanded he desire her; but John’s no daydreamer.
John could really use those painkillers, if you have them. He has a phobia to anything manufactured with iron-ore, so please verify those drugs lack iron.
I know what you’re thinking, but does John truly deserve the silkworm infestation for calling the hooker? I realize you got lucky with the same catch and without any silkworm, but you also have a thing for pain. Not John.
Ari, you had me at “John’s penis hurts.”!!!!!
Dude, that was funny.
Ari, you’re such a natural at these. Not just funny, but fluid in a way that lets you know it could’ve been any ten words in the world and your brain would’ve still spun it all together in just the right way.
Thanks guys.
Ari,
Oh. My. Goodness. Like Shane says. The opening lines are killer.
I got lucky? I have a thing for pain? How’d you know. AH hahahaha…
Pleasure, Ari. It’s great to have you.
“What a daydreamer. You really think silkworms are the solution?”
James winced at the tone that carried through the phone lines. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”
“You got lucky that last hit,” muttered the voice. “It won’t last.”
James wrapped a closed fist around the chunk of iron ore. His tendons pulled, reminding him of his healing injury, but he’d take painkillers later on. This wasn’t the time to get phobias about a little boo-boo.
“Yeah, I know,” he offered. “But we were on the same wavelength. Kelly and I get alon-… Hang on,” he told the voice and leaned out the window to say something to the passerby below.
“A catcall. Really, James, isn’t that beneath you? One would think you’d desire more of a… distinguished air.”
“Nah.” James settled back in his chair with a cocky grin. “I’d say it’s just my style. So back to those silkworms…”
“leaned out the window to say something to the passerby below”
WHAT? BELOW!
I’m starting to really like this James character. Great stuff.
It is impossible not to picture you smiling as you finish each of these.
James,
He clenched the steering wheel so tightly, his wrists began to ache. A first. His thoughts were weighing heavier than they ever had. But this was worth twice the amount of pain he felt in his arms.
This single act would put to rest all blank stares that whispered “daydreamer” whenever he worked up the courage to talk about it with anyone. The painkillers eased the physical pain, but the emotional pain was eating him up inside like the silkworm phobia’s he spent his entire childhood trying to shake.
Today, it was manifesting itself as a catcall from a dark alley, on a wavelength that was distorting his sense of reality. Just the push he needed. Even if it meant they would say “you got lucky this time”, those words didn’t abate his desire to make things right.
The loud engine revving sounded at times like dull iron-ore carving into thick ice. It was an alarming enough sound that might attract the attention of a bystander, but the closed fist on the shifter said it better than any muttered word or passing thought.
It was time.
Joseph, welcome to the club, and that was damn’d good for your 1st submission. It was time? For what? Damn, once again, I’m taken away into a story and…bam!…wait till next time to find out.
Love it.
Ooh, did we get a cliffhanger?
We spotted the ship on the hangar deck. It was ironically named the Daydreamer. Officially, the company exported everything from silkworms to iron ore, but that’s not where they made their money. They were smugglers. They would sell you anything you could possibly desire. If you got lucky, they would also sell you passage off-world.
I looked at the blood-soaked bandage on his arm and his tightly closed fist. He refused the painkillers I offered a few hours ago, but I knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. To make matters worse, he also had a phobia about space travel. But it was the only way out. If he stayed here, he’d be dead. If we didn’t make it to that ship, we’d both be dead.
I adjusted the wavelength and tried the subspace radio again. There. It was faint, but there was a signal. Our contact on the ship was ready–we were good to go. All we had to do was get across the deck without being spotted. With all the traffic on deck, it was easier said than done.
There was a sudden crash, followed by a catcall from one of the heavy load handlers. A pallet had just gone over, sending crates and barrels everywhere. We’d never get a better chance. We locked eyes.
“Let’s move.”
Stacy, I MUST find out what happens to these people. Damn, I hate waiting.
Great write once again.
I only do this to drive you crazy, Shane.
Thanks.
You can NEVER go wrong with a good smuggler story!
They called me a daydreamer. What they didn’t know was that I spent my time poppping painkillers in an ineffective attempt to quell my phobia of silkworms.
Every time I glimpsed one of my comrades venturing out into the great expanse of forests, I thought to myself, “You got lucky once again, you old dog. Someday they will draw your name and you’ll have to set foot out there, out where the silkworms rule! But today is not the day!” I could hear in my head each catcall and scornful laugh as my comrades watched me fearfully slink out the doors.
The problem was, I was an iron ore miner, and this job site was an iron ore mine. To get to the entrance of the mine, I would have to walk past the largest colony of silkworms that humans had ever discovered. Apparently they thrived on the specific wavelength of light emitted by the star in this system.
To be left alone was my only desire. “No one will ever learn my secret!” I shook my closed fist at the door and then sank back into my drug-induced fog.
Karetha, I enjoyed this story. For some reason, I was reminded of that movie Dune. Have you ever seen it? If not get it. You will love it.
Thanks again.
I used to be a heavy machinery operator at the Iron Ore Company in Quebec. That was a lifetime ago.
The life-changing moment came while I was working a mid-week late shift. It was my fourth late shift in a row and I suppose my mind wasn’t entirely focused on the job at hand. Actually my thoughts were centered on the woman of my desires and how pissed I was at Bobby Williams for whistling catcalls at her when she dropped by the site. Nancy was a nurse by profession and often came to visit her sister who worked in the office. A lady of Nancy’s caliber deserved respect, not to be taunted by a mere grease-monkey. Maybe that’s why I never got up the nerve to ask her out, I figured we weren’t on the same wavelength. I didn’t have any phobias about dating, I just thought that a fine woman wouldn’t want to be seen with a plain yokel like me who came home at the end of the day covered in grime and stinking of sweat.
“HEY DAYDREAMER, LOOK OUT!” , I heard the foreman shout before the world turned upside down and inside out. The world before me slid into exploding galaxies and bright lights fluttered across my unconscious eyelids like silkworms on parade. The falling chunk of rock had hit me between the third and fourth vertebrae like the closed fist of God.
When I came out of the coma 6 months later, the doctor told me “You got lucky”. I would have punched him in the throat if not for the fact that I am now quadriplegic. The bright spot in my day is now when my greatest desire comes through the door; the world-dimming and mind-numbing painkillers carried by a pretty nurse named Nancy.
Lisa, what a twist at the end! Loved it. My herniated L4 was quivering reading that.
Great write once again.
Lisa,
The opening was so good—the specificity of the company made me want to read on—and oh, that ending! Nice.
Shane,
I’ll see you, and raise you an L5-S1. Funny how a story that can hit a little personal thing can be so much more…
… personal.
I think I need caffeine now.
ouch! Sorry to hear that. A club I hate being a member of..I’m sure you understand.
I am a daydreamer with a phobia for silkworms. Crazy, I know. Whoever heard of such a thing, right? Anyway, I was lounging under the tree daydreaming about a desire I have to go mining for iron-ore. Well, maybe not so much mining as it is spelunking, but that’s another story. I heard the catcall of a mocking bird perched nearby, the wavelength of sound just enough to bring me out of my reverie. That’s when I saw it – the silkworm slowly working its way up my jeans. My closed fist came crashing down with a force borne of fear and desperation, hard enough that I would need painkillers later. “You got lucky,” I murmured to myself, “that could have been on your head.”
Spelunking? The urban dictionary definition or the webster’s one?
You made me smile with this one Kook Aid. Thanks.
Did Shane mean to call you Kook-Aid? Because I love it. Can I start calling you Kook Aid too, or is that something special just between the two of you? : )
face/palm. Sorry KooL Aid.
Shane? Do you often miss letters? I mean, rattleshake, unban, Kook?
‘Sokay. Glad I made you smile with this one; it was more difficult for me to come up with this than the other two. Oh, and I only know of the “cave exploring” definition of spelunking. What’s the urban definition?
Sean, only if you must
Kool Aid, considering I wrote this article http://www.copyblogger.com/proofreading-tips/ I consider these mistakes quite embarrassing. All I can say is painkillers kill more than the pain.
Don’t do drugs!
On painkillers to dampen his phobia of iron-ore-dwelling silkworms, the daydreamer’s desire to remain on his usual cynical wavelength provoked the following catcall (with closed fist): “You got lucky!“
Jaced, you are the new champ by 7 words! Wear the crown proudly my friend.
Alright, I’m gonna try to beat this next time!
Silkworms eat mulberry trees. I eat painkillers. Like candy.
I was an underground daydreamer with a slide rule and a notebook. I told them how to extract uranium in Niger, iron-ore in Brazil, diamonds in Liaoning Province. It was the gold in Caborca that snapped me in two and left me with a phobia, one useless hand and nothing below the solar plexis.
You got lucky.
That’s what they told me.
I lived.
I’m not on the same wavelength. A one-armed headcase with claustrophobia can’t go back down, no matter how much he spends on a tricked out wheelchair.
I sit around in a public library. I read. A girl in a tight yellow sweater with pink fingernails bends over for the USA Today. Her ass bobs within centimeters of permanently closed fist. I’m non-threatening, incapable of desire. Wouldn’t be able to muster the oomph for a catcall on the sidewalk.
I look back at the Times. Twelve dead in a Miaoshang coal mine. They should’ve seen it coming.
Carson, that was awesome, tight, captivating writing. I’d seriously think about writing some fiction on the side, man.
Again, great submission.
I agree with Shane – excellent fiction, man.
“Stand still,” Joely hissed, brows furrowed. Today her desire to make everything perfect was the cause of her own stress and a lot of other people’s, too. She pulled the hat down low on his brow and wiped his cheek with a wet finger. The smudge she left would be embarrassing at any other time, but right now she clapped him on the back, leaving a heavy print of iron-ore dust, and he barely noticed it at all. Tom’s extreme phobia about getting dirty would have to be held off. He knew where he could get some painkillers later, and he sure knew a pain he’d like to…
Mike broke in on his thoughts. “Hey, daydreamer. You ready?”
“You’re not,” Joely said, breaking up the manly moment by pulling at his shabby coat. Tom stared off again, thinking of everything they’d have to do, while Joely fussed over Mike for a change.
“I know it wasn’t made by silkworms, but do you have to be so rough, Joely? I was kind of hoping this would last more than a day.”
“I’ve got another if it doesn’t, Mike. Don’t worry. Can’t anyone around here hold still?”
At last she was done prodding the impatient men, and within minutes, a long-wavelength tone like a sick gong rang out over the desert.
Tom strode out into the blistering sun with a confident smirk and a closed fist. The red bandana around his neck would do more good over his mouth with all the dust they were kicking up, but touching the filthy thing would be worse than living with the occasional bites of sand. Joely would have his hide if he screwed with it, anyway, so he left it alone and walked on.
Earlier in the day the tent hadn’t seemed very appealing but now, when he nodded to Mike and raked the makeshift doorway open, the air inside was cool and—importantly—much cleaner than where he’d just spent an hour walking back and forth from the car. He was glad to get in out of the heat for a while and goof around.
After a time even the protection of the tent made Tom antsy. When it was almost time to leave he couldn’t resist showing his displeasure. With a glance around and a wicked grin, he gave the game he was supposed to be playing a shove.
“Cut! What the hell are you doing, Tom?”
The director stepped around a dozen coiled cables to see what had gone wrong. Tom was staring at the weighty arcade game with fury in his heavily-lidded eyes. It hadn’t even budged.
Howie made a catcall from off-set: “Big man, little muscles, Tommy!”
Somewhere behind the tent’s walls, Mike burst out laughing, while the director tried to restore order. “Look… um… that’s not in the script, Tom.”
“Aw, fer fuck’s sake. It’s still my song, mostly. The game was supposed to go over. Let’s do it again, man.”
“All right, folks. Quiet down. Mr. Petty would like to try to flip the Astro Invaders over again.”
Tom watched Howie sit down in the dirt, howling with laughter until the director stomped by and kicked dust up at him with a stern look.
“Like corralling kids,” he muttered, taking a chair behind the cameraman.
“Enough, people. Quiet down. Is Mr. Petty in place?” He waited until he got a nod from his assistant. “Here we go. You Got Lucky, take 39.
“Action!”
Kelly, you know I adore you, right?
hehehe
As much as I adore you?
Nah…
No… you!
Kelly, loved the director’s spunk. Don’t mess with Joely right!
Again, a skilled write for sure.
Thanks.
ps. and to name the scene “you got lucky” was the best part.
Shane,
A blast from your past? Mine, anyway:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTAhZKP5wCY
Very first thing that came to mind when I saw this list. All these years later I still see the whole thing in my mind without needing YouTube at all. Which dates me, yes.
Tom is my boy! I’m 37 and had some older sisters with vinly collections, so Tom was on regular rotation.
Yep. Tom was sooooo low-key cool. My kid watched the video last night after I read her this post so she could get what I was talking about in the story. She was humming the song for hours, and officially deemed the vid “awesome” in the eyes of a 10-year-old. (Whew!) Some things never go out of style.
Can’t wait to see your daughter start doing these challenges. She’s have a good teacher.
I was thinking about it the other day, because she would love to give it a shot—and I’ll bet there are other commenters’ kids who’d love to give something like this a try (it *is* addictive)—but… you’d have to do an “all-ages” day for kids to be able to read through everybody’s comments.
Heck, this time I even had to edit my own as I read it to her, since when I wrote it I couldn’t picture Tom saying “For goodness’ sake.”
I’ll be doing something at Children Write the Future very soon, which is very similar, but G rated. : )
I forgot about that Sean. Good idea. I guess we can keep this an Adult Swim area, and have the chillins’ go to CWF.
Don’t have her read tomorrow’s word list. I’ll have to get feedback after the fact about one of the words to gauge everyone’s opinion.
Sick F#&ker is going to be one of them. Any input on this before tomorrow morning would be great. I want us to be able to use any and all words to stretch our imaginations, and be limited by as few rules as possible.
As Stein on Writing says:
Shane,
re: Adult swim—absolutely. Like I said, I thought about it, but on normal days it would be kinda tricky. And you definitely wouldn’t want to issue a guideline unless it was only an occasional thing. (For one thing, you’d never get to hear about Winnie-the-Pooh’s off-camera moments if people felt held back. And I gotta know!) But also, I never know where I’ll go; I let your words dig into me, and I try to write in ways I don’t get to in other places. That’s what’s cool about it—it seems like that’s how everybody’s taking these challenges. At the risk of sounding too artsy and getting James down on me, this is (or potentially is) word-art. Shouldn’t mess with potential art too much.
I always tell The Kid that blogs I read are grownups’ places, so she gets to listen, not read. But that doesn’t mean that she hasn’t been tempted by seeing my new addiction to CCC. LOL—the genes are there.
P.S. I’m looking forward to seeing what Sean’s got up his sleeve.
That’s what I’m thinking. I believe NOTHING should hold back our writing…NOTHING! On this site, we shall be free.
I think a nice BWAH hahahaha might have worked there. Is it the painkillers? You made free sound a bit evil.
I remember that song! Always loved the guitar solo. I think that was when I didn’t have a TV so I don’t remember the video. Now I have the song stuck in my head.
Loran,
After she watched it, my kid said it’s the next thing she’s *got* to learn on the guitar. Her poor guitar teacher! He gets the funniest requests from her!
But luckily he’s my age, so I’m sure he learned that solo himself back then. Who wouldn’t want to? Mike Campbell makes it look and sound so slick.
“You got lucky you didn’t OD on those painkillers,” said the ER doctor. The last thing I remember are the iron-ore workers’ catcalls. With closed fists full of dollar bills and bulging pants, they were daydreamers of desire. I drifted off on some twisted wavelength derived from my Chinese silkworms phobia and woke up screaming in the night.
That was great Loran. You switched up your style! That’s really cool to see. I need to practice the long style.
I don’t think I have a style yet. Still experimenting. The longer stories come out stiff, the shorter ones work better. It must be why I can’t accumulate much integrated material.
Hope you are needing less painkillers!
He felt the desire for her all night as he watched her on the dance floor. She was a stone cold beauty from Russia, tall and blond and exotic. But he couldn’t get close to her, what with her bodyguard waving everyone away from her with his closed fist. It was too bad, because he really, really wanted to meet her, to touch her, to get to know her. To be on the same wavelength with her. But things don’t always work out the way you’d like them to, and her bodyguard stood between her and the rest of the crowd like a monolith made of iron-ore. It made him wonder what kind of phobia she had, that she wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, let her hair down and just have some fun.
From the balcony overhead came a few catcall’s, which she simply ignored. “Oh, man!” he thought to himself, “You got lucky you weren’t within reach of that bodyguard. All the painkillers in the world wouldn’t help you then. You’d be food for silkworms then!” Returning his gaze toward her, he realized that he was just a daydreamer who would never even try to meet someone like her.
(10,9,8,etc)
Great story and great that you did the reverse pattern. You’re tearing it up on catching up on the older challenges, Cleve. So glad you’re here.
Thanks Shane! I’m enjoying the challenges. Thanks for the idea and for hosting it.
Really, thank you. This site has become so much more than I ever expected it to be. It’s an honor for me to do this.
I woke up on the floor.
“You’ve done well.” I looked up to find Song. She wore a catcall bodysuit and brushed iron-ore boots. “But then,” she continued, “I knew that you would.”
“How did you know?” I asked, my venustraphobia rising.
“You’re a daydreamer.”
“You got lucky.”
“You sound bitter.”
“I’m tired.”
Song walked over to me and held out a closed fist. I opened my palm and she let loose a fist-full of painkillers.
“You can make it all end right now if that is what you really desire.”
I looked at the pills. For a moment I actually thought about eating them. Then I relaxed my fingers and let them fall to the ground. “I’ll pass,” I said.
“Very well,” said Song and with a wave of her quill the pills turned to silkworms and wriggled away. “I’m glad to know we are still on the same wavelength.”
“Are we?” I asked.
Excellent Troy. Love what you did with “phobia”.
Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote that.
A closed fist in his mouth, the crime tech cursed his phobia. He’d been a wavelength from beating it this time–just this once!–but iron-ore will proved to simply not be enough.
He thought about taking the rest of the painkillers in his bag, but knew he had to at least process the body and finish out the night.
I can handle death, blood, and any mangled body–so why do bugs freak me out so much?
Ignoring catcall after catcall from his replacement tech called in, he tried to get the images out of his head. Spiders. Centipedes. Scorpions…
“Hey daydreamer,” drawled Jeannie, the new tech he’d desired since day one.
He groaned. Could anything else add to his mortification on this night?
“You got lucky,” she grinned, sitting down next to him. Her hair, russet silkworms, dusted his cheek as she passed him her thermos. “Not only are you covered tonight, but we’ve both got the weekend off.”
He gaped at her wink. Lucky, indeed.
Sounds like one hell of a weekend shaping up! Continue this.
LOL, maybe!
Homicide detective, Brett Connors, had never been much of a daydreamer. Long before he collected his shield, Brett knew the harsh reality of life. He’d seen a mother trapped by the ugly silkworms of drugs, spinning their lying silken threads of promise.
People were always looking for painkillers. If you got lucky, you found someone special to help you through the pain. For Brett, that had been his grandmother. If not for her, he probably would have ended up on the other side of the shield.
Crouching over the body of one of the beach’s homeless, Brett hoped she was finally home, in a better place. The catcall of a senseless soul, tugged at Brett’s need for justice. The arrogance of murder offended him. When no one else would take up the cause, Brett made it his mission to bring dignity to life.
The sun slept beneath the ocean floor. Murder didn’t wear a wristwatch.
“Do you have a phobia about sleeping?” yawned Mark Johnson, the precinct’s top criminal technician.
“It’s overrated. What do you have?”
“Besides the iron-ore rock with dried blood and hair?” Mark smirked.
“Yeah, I think you could say we are on the same wavelength on that,” Brett countered. “Besides the obvious, what else do we have?”
“She was hit several times with a closed fist and was probably the desire of a perverted killer.”
“Mark, I wouldn’t quit your day job.”
@Cathy: I can’t believe how fast you are writing these. You appear to be in the zone.
@Shane–well now I’m zoned out
There’s just one more for tonight and now, I’m off to bed to dream of killers and hunky, if slightly disturbed detectives. I probably won’t be able to hit them until the weekend so you’ll get a rest, too! 
Thanks for all the encouragement!