The Edge of Oblivion

“Danny?”

I burst into his office.

“Governor, where the hell is my partner?”

His voice reached me first, thin and oily like a stench preceding a corpse.

“Have you lost him?” his tone mock solicitous.

“He was coming here.”

“I have to account for warders and inmates, not stray policemen.”

He lounged against the fireplace, rolling a coin across his wiry fingers like a conjurer.

“We know your tally is off.”

“How many?”

“Three prison officers, two inmates.”

 “So?”

“So we go over your accounts – downtown, with me as auditor.” 

He straightened as I approached, fingers not missing a beat.

“Know why they disappeared?”

“Save it. Hands out in front”

His fist swept towards me.

The coin glinted as, edge honed like a shank, it caressed my throat.

Eyes like a starving herring gull looked down at me.

“Three warders questioned me. Two inmates challenged me. Two cops did both.”

150 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Jeff Hollar's Monday Mixer #30

Things:          1) shank         2) vagary          3) demijohn

Verbs:           1) glint            2) entreat          3) elucidate

Adjectives:   1) louche        2) draconian      3) solicitous

Journal Fragments Unearthed in a Bavarian Castle

       

The experiment was a success! The broth appears capable of being activated by application of high voltage electricity.

If this God forsaken fortress had other staff I would do more than merely castigate that imbecile Igor.

Villagers were rampaging outside again tonight, all pitchforks and torches, shouting about evil emanating from the castle. Peasants!

Deep in the grip of a maudlin mood today over problems securing a suitable test subject.

Procured a meretricious local wench. She died screaming, but would not revive.

Morning rain dispersed another mob from the gates. I toured the walls savouring the petrichor and re-considering my plan.

I have it! A specious assumption that any subject would do. Need a male for increased physical resilience.

The specimen revived – just barely. His earlier ranting subsided into a troubled susurrus.

The ingrate subject attacked me and absconded. He appeared peculiarly vexed. Need stronger chains for the next one...

150 words

@nickjohns999

Over achiever challenger

This story was written for Jeff Hollar’s Monday Mixer flash fiction challenge #29 (details below)

It was judged the winner for 'Best Use of Prompts'!
The judge said:-

Nick Johns for his story Journal Fragments Unearthed in a Bavarian Castle. This captivating take on the Frankenstein theme had the unique honor of not only employing the longest story title in the history of the Monday Mixer, it is also, I believe, the only time an entry has incorporated all nine of the prompt words in...alphabetical...order. Wow. This tale fulfilled the promise of its title by making use of fragmented and incomplete thoughts and phrases that had the effect of making it more rather than less compelling. While it offered no real new twist on an old story, it was still quite a skilful manipulation of disparate words into a coherent whole. Most impressive!

Monday Mixer requires that writers devise a  tale of exactly 150 words using at least one word from each list provided – shown below

In this story I have used all nine. For an additional challenge, I have arranged them in alphabetical order!

Things:          1) broth            2) susurrus          3) petrichor

Verbs:           1) vex               2) emanate          3) castigate

Adjectives:   1) maudlin       2) specious           3) meretricious

Art for Art’s Sake

I am an artist. Zones of conflict are my most profitable canvasses. In such states of flux, confusion invariably reigns, even without my intervention.

Those of the ethereal persuasion, or Angels, to use their own preferred nomenclature, have their place in the scheme of things; but guarding and salvation are such uninspiring avocations. My colleagues and I, who chose the other, atramentous path, have another, more stimulating, diametrically opposed calling. We are individual connoisseurs of damnation.

They seek out those from a compendium of virtues, or at least innocence, to shelter; but these qualities also make their wards attractive to us. 
It's in the ultimate disposition of target souls that differs and the... style with which we operate. We each have our personal modus operandi. My choices are predicated on very specific and peculiar gustatory preferences. Now, here’s a potential saint who will be exulted by suffering for my art.

Over Achiever Challenger

150 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Jeff Hollar's Monday Mixer Flash Fiction Challenge and won 'Best Prompt User' Prompts for this challenge are shown at the end of this post...

Jeff said
" Nick Johns for his story Art For Art's Sake. I loved the matter-of-fact, straightforward manner in which Nick's agent of the dark side made his case. This tale had an excellent ebb and flow to it that led me patiently along to a conclusion that was not at all expected. It is always the hallmark of a Best Prompt entry when the words are so expertly woven in that I am forced to go line by line to ensure what prompt words are even there. Additional kudos goes to Nick for forcing me to double-check the definition of "atramentous" to make sure it fit in context. Really well done!  

Things:          1) flux              2) luminary         3) compendium

Verbs:           1) predicate     2) actuate           3) chirrup

Adjectives:   1) slapdash      2) gustatory       3) ethereal

The Unkindest Cut of All

The trail of blood did not need the sedulous attention of a detective. It could have been followed by a five year old boy and his dog.

I paused at the threshold, taking a last comforting drag before flipping the butt into the long grass. Where the hell was the uniform on guard? I’ll rip him a new arsehole if he’s in there stamping all over my crime scene. The blood became a Jackson Pollock finger wall smear inside the mortuary door. I fought the overshoe onto my loafer and stepped inside.

“Hello?” the antiseptic echo bounced off the bare walls.

A bandana, original colour unguessable, now red from having been used to mop the mess, lay discarded in a doorway. And a black boot – still attached to its former owner. I had found the officer. A soft footstep alerted me far too late and I glimpsed the flailing razor.

 150 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Jeffrey Hollar's Monday Mixer