Monday, October 18, 2010

3 contests! 3 prizes! 3 ways to win!

Hello, Killer Friends! We're super excited to announce our first ever contest!

Guys, this is a big deal. A Really Big Deal. And since we don't do anything small here at Killer Chicks, we're going for the triple threat. As in, 3 contests. With 3 prizes. Totalling $100. All running at the same time. And yes, you can enter all three!

To show you just how serious we are about this contest, the lovely and talented Joann made a video about it for your viewing pleasure:


Our (ridiculously simple) contest rules:

Contest #1 – Win a $25 Amazon gift card!
Follow us here at killerchicks.org and automatically be entered to win. Easy!

Contest #2 – Win a $25 Amazon gift card!
Follow us on Twitter (@thekillerchicks) and automatically be entered to win. Easy! 

Contest #3 – Win a $50 Amazon gift card!
Write and post a flash fiction story in the comments of this post and automatically be entered to win. Okay, so this one requires a little creativity, but it's FIFTY BUCKS. Who couldn't use fifty bucks? Flex your writing muscles (we know you got 'em) and jump in and show us what you got!

A few more details:

The contest will run starting today (as in right now!) until Sunday, October 31st (Halloween). 

The winners will be announced on Friday, November 5th. Your gift cards will be sent to you via email.

If you're already a follower here or at Twitter, you don't have to do anything further to participate in these two contests – you're already entered. Winners will be selected by random number generator.

For the flash fiction contest, you can enter as many times as you want up until Halloween. That's right – the more stories you write, the more chances you have to win. Here's the criteria:
  • The story can't be longer than 150 words. 
  • Your story must include the words killer, chicks, and Halloween
You won't be automatically disqualified if you go over the word count or forget to use a key word – but do your best!  Submit your flash fiction entry in the comments of THIS post.

The Killer Chicks will vote on the winning story.

Since we want to spread the wealth as much as possible, you can't win more than one contest. If you win more than one, you'll receive the largest prize.

See? Simple, right?

Let's get to it! Happy Halloween from the Killer Chicks!

54 comments:

Jennie Bailey said...

Super exciting! I added the contest to my sidebar and will shout it out tomorrow or Tuesday. Also, I'll be sure to do the flash fiction as well. It sounds like fun. GREAT contest!!!

Julie Geistfeld said...

Great contest! Love it!

Here's my flash....

Clucker’s Clucked

It was still two days before Halloween. No one was supposed to be wearing costumes today. But I had the distinct feeling those chicks standing on the corner of Broadway and 5th were no average chickens. They were large, they were yellow, and they were armed. Yes, the slingshots they had were extremely small, but still, I never trust an armed chick. They’re cute, they’re fuzzy, they’re lethal.

Then, all at once, it became very clear what these chicks were after. They wanted revenge! With slingshots locked and loaded with corn they aimed, they fired! The giant Clucker’s advertising chicken never saw it coming!

Always remember…

Never mess with Killer Chicks!

Roland D. Yeomans said...

I love this idea and contest. Here's my flash fiction entry, ladies :


They called him "The Snowman" because if coke was sold, and I don't mean the kind that fizzes, he got a cut. They called his bodyguards "Ice and Easy" because the blonde used an ice pick, and the redhead killed real easy.

"Trick or Treat, Standish," laughed The Snowman. "I got a Halloween message I want you to deliver to McCord, that undead guardian of yours."

Maybe I was only 13 years old, but I quaked in my shoes for no one. "I got a bad memory. Use the telephone."

Ice caressed her weapon of choice. "Your bloody body will say it all, Victor baby."

I saw the black mist ooze under the doorway and smiled wide, "Snowman, I've met your Killer Chicks. Meet Alice, my ghoul friend."

Many screams and too few seconds later, Alice licked her bloody fingers. "He melted in my mouth ... just like snow."

Amanda Sablan said...

A killer contest, if I may say. If I can come up with anything good, I'll do contest 3. :]

maine character said...

Ooooh... So okay, I'm officially marked as following now, and I don't Twitter, but I think I can come up with a story. (This isn't it.)

Awesome skull in that video, and here's a funny thing Julie's story reminded me of - the other day I typed "Killer Chicks" into Google, and it said, "Did you mean: killer chickens?"

Who knew? Now I'm afraid every time I go near a farm.

Misha1989 said...

Great Contest! Thank you!
I am a follower via GFC and on twitter (Misha_1989), that's contest 1 and 2.

Misha
mishamary@gmail.com

Jeanette Levellie said...

Wow, this is one excellent contest!

Pk Hrezo said...

Cool contest! Thanks for becoming a new follower of my blog. :) Glad I found your site... I'm your number 60!!! YAY!

I'll see if I can get in a short flash fiction... the prizes are awesome!!

Renae said...

Great contest! Found your blog thanks to the lovely Jen Daiker. Love it!

R.S. Bohn said...

Hi! Following you now on Twitter; I'm citizen_word. Here's a story, it's not killer, just weird.

"Box"

Six crayons left in the box. One of them says “Halloween,” but it’s brown. Another says, “Killer,” but it’s pink. One says “Fuzzy Chick,” but it’s green. I use them anyway, drawing on the back of the bathroom door until it’s covered with a story about people in spaceships. When Shane sees, he takes away my crayons, and he yells. He tells me this is why I’m in here. Because I can’t treat anything nice. But I’m quiet, and when I’m curled up in the bathtub later, Barbara comes in and puts the crayons in with me. She puts a finger over her lips. She kisses my forehead, and my temple, and my ear. She leaves, and the door locks, softly.

I eat the crayons one by one, so Shane can’t take them away again. The last one is “Mink,” and it’s purple, and it tastes like the people in the spaceships.

Pk Hrezo said...

Here's my flash fiction:

Follow the yellow brick road north of Topeka, Kansas and you will be in Nowhere. Drive a few hundred miles west of Nowhere, and eventually you'll run into Letham Grange. In the fall, the yellow-gold fields of wheat rustle in the breeze agains the cobalt sky, for acre after acre as far as the eye can see. Nestled amidst it all is a giant,delapidated old barn, the russet colored paint faded from time's unforgiving seasons. It's been attempted before to demolish the old barn--rumor in the nearby town is that it's the main source of eerie mischief that causes livestock to disappear and children to wake up screaming. Sherriff Tomkins and his men tried to investigate once, but they were never the same afterwards, their hair soon a permanent shade of gray. Only answer anyone ever got was, "Even after his death, Farmer Letham's never changed."

Okay, so i used this for a blogfest a few weeks ago, but it works right? I mean, I wrote it and it's short. :)

Yvonne Osborne said...

Thanks Jennifer for becomming my 116th follower! I can comply with Contest 1 but I don't Twitter (gotta draw the line somewhere to leave time to write). But I'll be back with a flash fiction!

Jess said...

Sweet contests! I'm so glad I found your blog (thanks go to Jennifer Hillier for stopping by mine). I'm dabbling with a YA thriller right now, and can't wait to be inspired by the Killer Chicks blog posts!

Lydia Kang said...

Hey, I'm a new follower, and thanks for following my blog too! This is a great contest, I love the flash fiction idea! These entries are pretty amazing.

Jen Daiker said...

I gave you the perfect little shout out today on my blog for such a special event and you're already on my sidebar! I of course will for sure be tweeting about all the fun! As for the fiction piece, I'm all about $50 but it all depends on time... let's see if I can finish a current novel, write a fiction piece and then be ready for NaNoWriMo... talk about a sure overload, lol!

Shannon O'Donnell said...

Hi! I hopped over from Jen's blog. Great contest. I'm a new follower *waves* and I love the l;ook of your blog! :-)

Jess said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Jennifer Hillier said...

Welcome to all our new followers! So happy to have you here!

Jen @ unedited, BIG thanks for the shout-out! (HUG)

Okay, so clearly you guys are fantastic at flash fiction. I'm really enjoying reading these entries!

adam.purple said...

I'll play.


The Museum of Obscure Cartoon References

I entered through the revolving door and found the information desk. The woman behind the counter spun her chair toward me. A pencil protruded from the tight bun atop her head.

"Yes?"

"I’m looking for the band that did the cartoon--"

"South Park, third episode, 1999. Second floor. The Kornucopia Room. Stairs are on the left."

"No, see, there was a song, but it was about growing up…learning--"

Her eyebrows arched. "Cartoon Chicks. Downstairs, in the Betty Boop Basement. West Wing, the Jessica Rabbit Repository." She leaned forward to eye me over the top of her glasses. "Adults only."

"No, not like that. Just listen. They did a song. About tying shoes…"

She nodded, just once. "Spongebob, episode 21. Third floor. The Hall-o-Ween.

"That’s it! You’ve got a killer memory."

Her lips turned upward at one corner. "Murder and Mayhem. Gary Larson Library. Third floor." She spun away.

Melanie said...

hahahaha...holy crap. way to up your following. it's about time. people don't know what they've been missing here at KC :-) I've never done flash fiction, but I'll give it a go. Not sure what it really is. Will research it and be back. Sounds like a fun contest. You guy rock, but you already know how I feel :-)

Janet Johnson said...

Fun contest! I'm no good at flash fiction, but if inspiration strikes, I'll be back. :)

Jemi Fraser said...

Wow - what a great contest! Like Janet I don't usually write flash, but I'll return as well if I get something decent written! :)

Gregory said...

Nice vid and great contest idea! And, now for my submission (complete with literary license 'bending' word rules just a bit):

The Great Pumpkin Revenge

Halloween night approached and the pumpkins of Hickory Patch sought revenge. Over the course of several horrifying days, killer humans descended on the defenseless patch, culling the largest and strongest from their cozy beds. They gutted the captured and placed the candle-lit bodies at residential gates as a warning to all pumpkin-kind.
On the eve of Halloween, the remaining pumpkins gathered in center of the Hickory Patch, away from prying human eyes. Chi'cks, oldest and wisest of the pumpkin kind, invoked the call to Ritual with a wave of her leafy tendrils. Soon, the remaining survivors of the Reaping joined in the rhythmic dance, desperate to summon their savior.
This year, the Great Pumpkin will rise, called from his infernal slumber deep within the ground. He would lead the pumpkins to find the revenge they sought. The fallen would be avenged with the human pleas for mercy.

Milo James Fowler said...

$50? Heck yes! Here's my entry:

"Dribble"

Painted yellow by the amber streetlight, Karl celebrates Halloween in his own way. Bearded, belly protruding, wire-rimmed lenses reflecting flashes that hide his eyes, he nods to himself as couples cling hand in hand, slipping into the crowded shop for frozen sweets in more than thirty flavors.

Hands thrust deep into the pockets of his overalls, leaning back on worn boot heels, he surveys dessert choices from the outside in, approving one lovely pair’s final decision while frowning at another’s. Pistachio and boysenberry? Whoever heard of such a wretched combination? Stupid chicks. Sometimes they just don't know any better.

He watches as one girl’s limber tongue catches a green drip dangling from her boyfriend’s overstuffed cone. It may very well be his last.

Karl chuckles. You never know when a killer might have you in his sights -- even if he's just the once-a-year variety.

(Based -- loosely, of course -- on a scene that played out in front of Baskin-Robbins last summer...)

JB Lynn said...

Having a blast reading these entries! Keep 'em coming!

B.E. Sanderson said...

New follower here, coasting over from Jennifer's blog. I don't twitter, but here's my flash fiction entry:

Halloween in the barnyard—all dark shadows, plaintive moos, and an eerie feeling of death. As I crept toward the barn, I saw Farmer Braun stretched across the dirt, clenching a fistful of corn. He looked asleep until I noticed hundreds of tiny spots—harmless alone, deadly together. My flashlight’s beam swept the barnyard, illuminating the hatchery. Dozens of eyes glowed red and I knew the truth. Braun wasn’t just a farmer. He was either a madman or a fool. Raising killer chicks for fun and profit is no way to earn a living, and it’s no way to die.

Thanks, that was fun. =o)

Joann Swanson said...

Wow, you guys are fantastic! I'm having so much fun reading these!

Jess said...

Okay, I'll give it a try:

The chicks crowded together in the henhouse, nervously looking at the full moon, barely visible through a hole in the wood.

“Shhh!” whispered Mother Hen. “The baby killers are coming. It’s Halloween night.”

Every chick shivered and snuggled closer.

An evil chuckle sounded outside the walls, and was soon joined by others. Footsteps grew closer, and the floor began to rattle. One chick couldn’t stand the silence any longer; he crapped his nest, shrieking, “We’re all gonna die! It’s the baby killers!”

Giant pink nightmares swooped inside, and the henhouse went berserk with jumping chicks, flapping wings, stabbing beaks, and a few beastly shouts of pain. After several minutes of mass panic and one suicidal jump from the wooden hole, low moans were all that remained.

The soiled chick sniffed. “Why?”

Mother Hen gave a mournful cluck. “They’ll throw them at houses. Damn kids always steal my eggs on Halloween.”

Taffy said...

Fun contests! I'm a follower Yippee!

Joanne Sheppard said...

Great competition. Following you here and also on Twitter, where I'm redskyatnight.

Here's my flash fiction entry. 150 words exactly, all three key-words used! :-)

Anthony by Joanne Sheppard

After decades of teaching, I measure the year not in months but in craft projects. Yellow pom-pom chicks at Easter. Silver snowflakes at Christmas. Papier-mâché masks, like today, at Halloween.

Pacing the classroom, I count six witches, five vampires, three zombies, two ghosts, and seven indeterminate monsters, fully exploiting the garish colour palette of acrylic paints. Glitter is recklessly sprinkled, delighted giggles abound.

Except from Anthony. He’s a slender boy, sickly, silent. He has painted his mask an odd fleshy colour, but it is otherwise featureless.

“A ghost?” I ask.

He looks up. His expression is bored, blank. “No,” he says. “A serial killer."

Anthony is five. I swallow.

“Any serial killer in particular?” I ask, my mouth dry.

He says nothing, but holds the mask up to his face. His washed-out grey irises fill the neat eye-holes, and the sallow flesh tone is a perfect match to his skin.

alexia said...

By the light of the blood moon I could see my killer winding his way through the naked tree branches behind me. But I didn’t have to see him to know he was there – with every other step he sharply inhaled the crisp October air. I tried to slip quietly through the forest like a wraith, but I felt the inevitability of my fate looming before me. It really sucked that I had to die on Halloween; after all, it is my birthday.

This, however, could not be avoided. I was one dead chick. Gloomy outlook, I know, any other day I would totally agree. Today was different though, because I’d been here before. Eight years prior, in a dream, I’d seen my death. Now, as it replayed in real life, I couldn’t help but think it was the worst possible kind of déjà vu. Sometimes death just isn’t fair.

The Words Crafter said...

New follower here! I wish I had time to read more of the flash entries. The ones I read were pretty great!

maine character said...

We sat huddled in the dark, shoulder to shoulder, in an abandoned building in North London. Together we peered out the window into the night as people strolled by the shops.

“What makes you believe he’ll show tonight?” I asked.

Holmes never took his eyes off the street. “It is Halloween. A night on which any depraved being may walk safely masked. But I know Moriarty. He will not conceal himself from me.”

It was just at that moment I noticed three women leaving a bookstore. They were laughing and in costume, with high boots and braces of pistols strapped to their thighs. They brought about a feeling in me I had not experienced since The Case of the French Champagne.

Holmes grabbed my arm. “There – the silver mask,” he whispered. “The killer in our midst.”

Oh cripes, I thought. Not now. I pointed at the bookstore. “Chicks!”

Holmes frowned. “Killer!”

“Chicks!”

“Killer!”

“Chicks! With books!”

But Holmes only turned and slipped out, quick on the heels of his adversary.

It took all my professional discipline to turn from the sight of those pistol-packing ladies, but for the sake of my dear friend Holmes, I chased him into the night.

Melissa said...

I'm a follower :)

I wrote my flashfiction and I love it so much that I'm going to post it on my blog and tell others to come over and enter!

Here's my flash fiction:

Killers, it’s such an ugly word. We’re just three chicks doing what we can to better our community. We help people. There are far too many people who lie, cheat and steal their way through life. They don’t appreciate what they have.

We watch them; see how cavalier they are about the blessings in their lives. And then, we help them. They don’t ever want the help, but we give it to them anyway. That’s what good Samaritans are supposed to do, isn’t it?

Once they learn their lesson, realize the error of their ways and pray for life with fervour, we release them. Set them free from this plane of existence before their neighbours can lure them back into the vortex of carelessness that haunts so many these days.

Why do we love Halloween? Nobody notices a few extra screams.

asuqi said...

Okay! Here we go, exactly 150 actually =)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

”Chicks! Chicks!”

”Shut up!”

”Aw, c´mon, leave him. He´s got Tourette´s.”

”Still not acceptable! He can´t just randomly scream stuff at people. That´s my sister and her friends!”

”Tits! Hot fuckin´ tits!”

”Bloody hell! Make him stop!”

”Okay, calm down. Leon, shut the fuck up! Andy; I´m sorry, Leon´s sorry, everyone apologizes. Okay?”

”Whatever…”

”Halloween! Halloween!”

”Jeez! What´s wrong with him now?”

”I dunno. Just ignore him.”

”No! He´s a freakin´ weirdo, it´s not like I can just don´t give a shit! It´s like; I´m normal!”

”Yeah, right…”

”Wha´d´ya mean?”

”Nothin´.”

”Tell me or I´ll fuckin´kill you!”

”Well, that´s just it; you behave like a psychopath killer every time you´re upset by something…”

”I behave like a psychopath?!”

”Pretty much…”

”That´s it; Halloween! Halloween!”

”What?”

”Maybe I´ve got Tourette´s too!”

”You´re such a dick!”

”Dick! Dick!”

”I´m leaving! And your sister´s a cunt!”

”I´ll kill you!”

”I rest my case.”^

^^^^^^^^^^^^

C. N. Nevets said...

Nature versus nature, they wonder.

Nature, I tell them.

How can you be so sure? they ask.

Because what sick freaks would have raised a kid to be like me? – It’s a question, but it’s a good answer.

I sit on the barn floor, in front of the incubator. It’s the 31st. There are Halloween parties I could be buying costumes for. Friends I could be seeing. But I don’t go to parties, and I don’t have friends.

The bobbing yellow fuzz balls are mesmerizing. I feel it coming soon. The feeling that’s gotten me through the last twenty-one years. I don’t know what got me through the first three.

I reach in and grab one of the chicks.

Twist its head around.

The sound of its little neck cracking is almost orgasmic.

I grab another. Twist. Crack.

Then another.

And another.

Dad’s outside. “You in there, killer?”

I am.

C. N. Nevets said...

I think Jesus died so that we could have Halloween. A bunch of drunk chicks with killer bodies in costumes? Truly, a gift from God.

It’s not that I need a girl to be drunk for to say yes. Trust me, they always says yes. Girls aren’t smart enough to know what’s going on, so they don’t have a reason to say no.

But some things work better when they’re drunk, you know? Muscles get looser, more flexible. Physical resistance goes down. No matter how much they fight emotionally, their bodies don’t help their cause. It’s awesome, dude.

You need to try it.

“Hey, cutie, nice bunny rabbit costume.”

“Thanks.”

“Bet you can’t touch your nose with both pinkies.”

“Yes I can!”

“Try it!”

Her hands go up. Mine go crazy.

When they’re drunk, you can beat the shit out of them hours before you’re doing permanent damage.

It’s awesome.

Lisa Potts said...

Trey walked into the Halloween party and found what he wanted. Mary Baker stood apart from everyone else, looking at the extensive collection of vintage books on the shelves toward the back of the room.

Drop dead gorgeous with long red hair and a body built for one thing, she wore a killer vampire costume just like Trey.

He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her since she'd started school last week. She wasn't like the other chicks in Sunnydale, most of whom he'd already been-there-done-that with anyway.

By the end of the night their relationship had progressed to the bedroom. He took his fake teeth out and waited for her to do the same.

"Mine don't come out."

Trey smiled. "You don't sparkle in the sunlight, do you?"

She kissed his neck, her lips like ice against his skin. "I'm no vegetarian either."

Melanie said...

So, this was an interesting experience. I've never done this flash fiction thing before and it was really a ton of fun! Thanks so much. Wish I did the twitter thing, but I'm not there yet :-)

Here's my attempt at a flash fiction with your required word count and key words :-)


With the best marijuana Long Island had to offer, Halloween at Steve "Chick Magnet" Casey's house meant a night of getting crazy high, dancing, and getting laid by some hot junior or senior guy from the Lacrosse team.

But not for Candy.

Marijuana always left her with a much different urge.

"Killer costume," Austin said shouting over the music. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Your worst nightmare," Candy said, smiling under her mask. "Now give me a hit off that bong."

Austin's face lit up. "Candy?"

Yep, she was the most popular girl in Lake Grove High and tonight was going to be his lucky night.

Well, her lucky night anyway.

"Come, let's take a walk."

Austin smiled, knowing this was usually code for "lets' go fuck."

Alone in the woods behind Steve's house, Austin grabbed Candy's ass and smiled.

Candy smiled back.

Her hatchet at the ready.

carmen @ life blessons said...

Abby had been counting down to Halloween for months. Ever since school wrapped up and she found herself with all the time in the world to consider her options. She wanted to really make a statement this year, and show the kids on her block her true identity. Not the shy, quiet girl in the front of the bus that everyone labeled her as. No, this year would be different. She considered her options. Obvious was out--no witches, ghosts, ghouls or goblins. Nothing skimpy like the other chicks always wore. Something that spoke to the creativity that raged within her veins. For weeks she brainstormed. Until she finally decided on the costume that would stun them all. With her mind made up, she grabbed the felt and fabric, scissors and staple gun and got to work, crafting the world's most killer--literally--costume ever.

RaShelle said...

I'm following you here and on twitter and I have your contest in my sidebar. Great contest and some fun stories.

Em-Musing said...

His name was Chicks. The nickname haunted him since fifth grade when kids teased him for being too chicken to fight back after the town bully made mincemeat of his face. That’s also when the voices in his head started to tell him to do bad things. Seven years later, a classmate noticed him at a corner table in Starbucks. She felt drawn to him, a kindred soul, an outcast like her. She approached and asked if she could join him. He nodded. Why was she smiling? Was she making fun of him like all the others? And that's why she became his "first", because the voices in his head were urging him, “Kill‘er, Chicks!”

Em-Musing said...

OOPS! Forgot the Halloween part. Here is the revised version:

His name was Chicks. The nickname haunted him since fifth grade when kids teased him for being too chicken to fight back after the town class bully made mincemeat of his face. That’s also when the voices in his head started to tell him to do bad things. Seven years later, Halloween night, a classmate noticed him at a corner table in Starbucks. She felt drawn to him, a kindred soul, an outcast like her. She approached and asked if she could join him. He nodded. Why was she smiling? Was she making fun of him like all the others? And that's why she became his "first", because the voices were urging him, “Kill 'er, Chicks!”

RaShelle said...

Hall Oween watched a group of chicks talking in the courtyard a few feet away. One in particular had his attention.

“Don’t be so easy, Marie, they’ll pay more attention.”

He held in a smile, as he watched Jasmine flick the girl, Marie, under the chin.

“I’ve got to get to class,” she said, amidst all the laughing.

Hall repressed a groan and counted to ten, inwardly. She was wearing a plaid mini-skirt and over–the-knee socks. Supple thighs were exposed. Getting up, he followed. Hall knew where she was going, he knew everything about her. There was a shortcut and a row of thick bushes. College Biology is going to be killer, today, he thought. Getting into his hiding spot, he waited. When she was right next to him, Hall jumped out.

“Gotcha!” He grabbed her from behind.

She screamed. Turning to face him, Jasmine ripped off the hat and sunglasses he was wearing. “Hall, honey, you scared—”

Then he kissed her. His warm lips against her soft. Vanilla. Quivering.

“Maybe I should skip class.”

Juliette said...

Hi, new Twitter follower here! (@ClassicalJG).

Here is my flash fiction entry:

Autumn Chills

She stood frozen. The black figure in the field was turned towards her.

Chicks nibbled the feed that lay scattered around her feet, but she could not take her eyes off the hooded form. In her soul she knew it was a killer. A glint in its right hand was a knife; the rope in its left a weapon.

She stared until her eyes hurt. The figure wobbled before her eyes and she could see it moving slowly and painfully towards her.

There was a flash of light and she screamed until her lungs hurt.

‘Are you still messing around wi’ them chicks?’ Dad turned on the porch light and swung the torch’s beam over the still form of the scarecrow, with the silver button on its right wrist and dangling cord over its left.

This is what you get for wandering around in the dark on Halloween.

Jennifer Hillier said...

You guys are rocking these entries!

RaShelle, thanks so much for the link in your sidebar :)

amyashleybooks said...

Some of these are great! I am glad I spent some time thinking about this. You know I follow the blog.

Anyway, here's my flash..*Opens trench coat and 150 words spill out*


Her backache worsened yearly. Agnes refused to halt chores. Instead, applying lineament predawn, she allowed work to warm her joints. Moaning as she fed the chicks, she bent further, stretching. Today, Halloween, Agnes needed the extra flexion. Brushing chaff from her hands, she hurried to finish her cooking.
Jax arrived promptly. Never dependable in times of need, Agnes could count on her son showing up this night each October. He’d claim to help dole out treats, but the draw was his “payment”. There weren’t many kids, but she had regulars. Agnes continued the tradition her ma started of home cooked treats. Poor farm kids found it worth the trek.
Jax noshed from his special plate. “Killer apples, Ma.”
Agnes nodded, handing the first popcorn ball out. It’d be tough dragging his body to the barn, but it had needed doing. You crushed the bad seeds or they ruined your crop.

Melanie said...

oh crap. was Steve Casey the name of the boyfriend who got killed in the opening scene of scream??? I swear I didn't do that intentionally!!!

I just realized that I can enter more than one. duh. will try this again. what the hell. i'm not doing NaNo, so....

:-)

Marsha Sigman said...

After it was done, I blamed the game. The day before Halloween in English, Mrs. Simon taped paper to our backs and made us write something positive about each other. When everyone finished, we could read what had been written about us.

My sheet had one phrase, repeated twenty-five times.

‘Great Hair’.

My hair hung past my hips and I used it like a curtain to hide from them. I never realized how much I hated it.

That night I cut it above my ears. The black dye I used glinted in the florescent lights of my bathroom.

They thought it was a costume, like the automatic shotgun under my coat. I looked like one of those biker chicks from a Quentin Tarantino movie. Only when the bullets flew and the blood splattered, did they understand.

They should have seen past the hair. They should have seen the killer.

Candyland said...

Sweeeeet contests:) Here's what I've got:

Her shoes lined the closet floor like an army.

Even after we buried her.

October was the coldest month, the lonliest month. The 31st lies still in the night, untouchable like wind. Halloween once filled the air with sugar-coated laughter. We were the family other families wanted to be—whole and complete.

Every year, we'd sit in the cold and marvel over passing costumes under the main street's killer fluorescent lights. The last year, was the best year.

After, it was just another day where assholes dressed like bigger assholes and chicks dressed like whores. At the end of the final hour, they'd steal their childrens' chocolates in that still, blackened night, and never know how much I wanted my family to be like their family—whole and complete.

This past Halloween, the man who left her shoes, lined on the closet floor, was one of those assholes.

Until I shot him.

abrokenlaptop.com said...

What a fun contest! I'm a real fan of flash fic. Great reads. :) Here's mine! Clocks in a 148 words.


Rule number one in my job: always clean your weapons after using them. It instills discipline. Keeps it professional. Blood not only tends to gum up my knives, but it also manages to ruin a perfect Dior blouse. And I can’t have that.

Halloween is just like every other night on the job, with one exception: I don’t have to stay out of sight. Instead of sneaking around in the shadows, I can wear the tools of my trade proudly. It’s pretty liberating, I have to admit. It’s as close to being open about my
work as I’ll ever get.

“Hey, beautiful. What are you?”

I smile, my teeth sharp. “Assassin.”

“Great costume.” To his friend. “That chick’s a killer.”

Tonight’s mark was just another lonely slob, a nobody who was grateful to die. Can’t say that it bothered me to help him along. It’s what I do.


-Mercedes

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Aisyah Putri Setiawan said...


Banned complain !! Complaining only causes life and mind become more severe. Enjoy the rhythm of the problems faced. No matter ga life, not a problem not learn, so enjoy it :)

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Alasan Bercinta Di Kamar Hotel Lebih Menggairahkan
Obat Untuk Mendapatkan Bentuk Tubuh Yang Ideal
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