Tagged: foreign lands

Tracy Clutched Her Skull in Agony

  1. k-avatarCharacter – equestrian
  2. Setting – the moors
  3. Object – halter
  4. Situation – blinding headache

Tracy clutched her skull in agony, wrapping her arms around her head to ward off further dashings as Seawind galloped heedless across the moors with Tracy’s leg thrust through the stirrup.

She knew the mare was too spooked to stop, might plunge over the approaching cliff. She had to regain control. She shouted, “Seawind! Whoa!” and coughed as soil and grass flew into her mouth. Desperate, she risked reaching with one hand. She heaved her torso upwards and strained after the halter. Seawind’s pulsating movement threw her about, the leather straps slipping her fingers three times before offering a hold.

Tracy clambered up the animal’s flank, drawing her weight off her leg and pulling it free. Seawind veered and Tracy tumbled into the heather, and then the horse went riderless over the lip.

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Agent Smedley Raised the Collar of his Trench Coat

  1. k-avatarCharacter – inept hacker
  2. Setting – world’s most inappropriate McDonald’s
  3. Object – nail gun
  4. Situation – midlife crisis

Agent Smedley raised the collar of his trench coat, shot a shifty glance up the hill to see if he was being watched, and ducked into the restaurant. He queued for his ultra-fatty burger and deep-fried potatoes.

The vibrant yellow insignia that had led him here stood in garish contrast to the centuries-old stones of the fortification that housed the establishment. Mere steps from the site of royal decapitations, amid the grand murk of the Tower and its veil of history, lurked a hive of incipient obesity and totem of the very rebellious colonists who repudiated this empire.

Smedley surveyed his fellow diners, alert for anyone else who seemed to be looking for someone. His contact had said, “Meet me at the world’s most inappropriate McDonald’s,” and this had to be the place.

It was Smedley’s turn. He looked at the person awaiting his order, and saw that his piercing gaze was being shrewdly returned. He smiled.

“Deep-fry me a nail gun,” he muttered.

“This job is just part of my midlife crisis,” responded the young man in the polyester hat. He slid a tray across the counter, and Smedley noted an excessively printed order slip. He nodded and took the empty tray to an equally empty table.

He read the slip. He shook his head. Although there was lots of jargon about firewalls and encryption, all the strip of paper really told him was that he’d been outbid for the clock he really liked on eBay.

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“I Don’t Understand”

  1. k-avatarCharacter – porn actress Turkish Delight
  2. Setting – vestibule of the time travel agency
  3. Object – camcorder
  4. Situation – need to find the black market

“I don’t understand.”

“Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople.”

“Just sell me a ticket.”

A notched blue card popped out of the slot in the counter.

“Two dollars.”

“Wow. Thought I was cheap.”

“We invest it hundreds of years ago. Compound interest…”

“Thanks.” Turkish Delight bent to pick up her bags, and every male in the room locked on like a radar defense grid. She slung the camcorder bag over her shoulder and surveyed the assortment of geeky tourists. The one in full plate mail caught her eye, but the logistics were alarming to consider. Loincloth, too far the other way… There! The Renaissance rogue. Very tasty.

Delight swayed over to him, enjoying his confident smirk at her approach. She batted her dark eyes.

“Hello,” he said, in a voice that made her knees weak. “You look familiar.”

Delight smiled shyly. “I get that a lot. My name’s Dee.”

“I’m Jacob.”

“Well, Jacob,” Delight purred, “I’m making a movie. Want to be in it?”

“Absolutely!”

“Great. Hope Constantinople is on your itinerary.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. When we’re done making movies, maybe you can help me.”

“Oh really? How?”

Jacob patted the bulging leather satchel hanging at this side. It seemed to shift a bit in protest.

“I need to find the black market.”

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Hotel Room in Prague

Jen and Kent both took a stab at this prompt. Who do you think did a better job? Why?

  1. Character – the human fly
  2. Setting – hotel room in Prague
  3. Object – camcorder
  4. Situation – inventing something

k-avatar

Kent’s Take

Spike always loved climbing in the old cities, clambering over all the ornamental stonework and making faces at the other gargoyles.

But he mostly hated climbing hotels. Other buildings’ occupants could usually be counted on to be thoroughly sick of whatever sad excuse for a view lay beyond the window, but in hotels everyone is still getting used to the scenery. And paranoid as hell that some lunatic might come in over the ledge and do some hideous thing that the papers will hush up to protect tourism.

At the fifth floor of the Prague Hilton, Spike heard moaning. Slowly he pulled himself high enough to glance in. The first thing he saw was the camcorder on a tripod. The next thing took him some moments to comprehend. It was something that had never occurred to him, although it looked like fun.

He climbed on, secret witness to an invention of passion.

 

by jenJen’s Take

By Eastern European standards, the room was luxurious. By Misty’s Vegas standards it was merely not squalid. But it would do.

The light on the camcorder blinked steadily, letting Misty know that her every move was being recorded for later broadcast by Czech television.

Shifting her weight entirely to her left hand, Misty slowly, slowly lowered her knees toward the floor while pointing her toes toward the gilt ceiling and flourishing madly with her right hand.

The chandelier she hung from swayed slightly and Misty worked with the movement, augmenting it until she was swinging several inches in each direction. Her movements stabilized the arc, controlled it, and she was ready for the final motion, the twist that would make this move her own.

Taking a deep breath, Misty thrust her feet outward and her head down, while simultaneously rotating clockwise.

It was beautiful.

Prague would forever be known as the city where “The Nightingale” was invented.

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Dr Clamdigger Strolled in the Gentle Surf

  1. k-avatarCharacter – oversexed physics professor
  2. Setting – tropical island
  3. Object – wasp
  4. Situation – splitting headache

Dr Clamdigger strolled in the gentle surf, admiring the student body. She acted aloof, but he knew she was admiring him, too, as she lay propped up on a towel halfway up the beach.

Yes, teaching physics at Cayman U was a great gig.

Dr Clamdigger altered course and placed his prodigious shadow over the coed’s bikini-clad torso (and, for the most part, her legs).

“You’re blocking the sun,” she protested petulantly.

“Impossible,” Dr Clamdigger said. “The sun is a star, a seething fusion reactor, while I am,” he ran his hand down his hirsute belly, “but flesh.”

“Well, Skipper –”

“That’s Professor!”

“– whatever. You might want to move.”

“So you can work on your tan lines?”

A volleyball ricocheted off Dr Clamdigger’s head. He swayed, but the sunbathing student didn’t flinch.

“Yeah, that too.”

Dr Clamdigger staggered into the waves and collapsed, not hearing the calls of, “Dude! Little help? That’s our ball!”

As the warm salt water lapped at his sides, Dr Clamdigger saw his nemesis chatting up the pretty student. It was Professor Henderson, showing off his pet wasps again.

Damn entomologists get all the chicks.

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It Wasn’t Often

  1. by jenCharacter – small-town cop
  2. Setting – the Concorde
  3. Object – camcorder
  4. Situation – sending telegrams

It wasn’t often that I got out of Hicksville, so this vacation was proving to be a real eye-opener. New York City had been intimidating enough, but now, here I was, zooming across the Atlantic faster than the speed of sound. When we landed we’d be in France. Holy smokes!

I thought back to my turn in the limelight, my 15 minutes of fame on that game show Bet Ya Can’t! My time in the Boy Scouts and my police training kept my Morse Code skills sharp, and I had been the first contestant to successfully receive a telegram and send an appropriate response. That’s how I won the grand prize – a trip to Europe on the Concorde, and a brand new camcorder!

Yee Haw!

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In the Darkened Room

  1. k-avatarCharacter – Russian game show host
  2. Setting – behind enemy lines
  3. Object – model trail
  4. Situation – seance

In the darkened room, objects moved though on one was touching them. Some of this was due to the tanks rumbling by, and some due to spirit activity.

The medium and the game show host sat on opposite sides of the small table. Gradually all fell silent.

“Are you here, Mikhail?” the medium asked softly.

There was a rapping sound from the table. “Comrade Bagski, you may talk to Mikhail.”

“Well, Mikhail, answer this one right and you win the model train. Ready?”

The table rose and began to twirl.

“Good! Okay, rap once for true and twice for false: The Romanovs got what they deserved.”

Two distinct rapping sounds were heard.

“Correct!”

The medium was troubled.

“Comrade, isn’t this a very touchy subject for a game?”

Bagski brushed it off.

“It’s the people’s model train anyway, he can’t keep it.”

“For a couple of reasons.”

A sudden bomb-burst shook dust from the ceiling and halted conversation.

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Turkish Delight Worried The Bullwhip

  1. by jenCharacter – porn star named Turkish Delight
  2. Setting – Loch Ness
  3. Object – bullwhip
  4. Situation – midlife crisis

Turkish Delight worried the bullwhip in her leather-gloved hands. Where on earth was the director? This was going to be her big break, the movie that showcased her acting skills along with her enormous breasts and insatiable appetite for kinky sex. Desmond had assured her it would be tastefully done, but now no one could find him.

Her costars tried to convince her that the cameraman could be relied on to bring the vision to fruition, but Del just didn’t trust him the way she trusted Desmond.

They had flown all the way to Scotland to film the special scenes with Nessie yesterday. It had been freezing, absolutely freezing, but Del had lived up to her end of the deal. Last night Desmond just kept staring at her. He couldn’t even get it up.

He must be having a midlife crisis, Del decided.

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Xyblorgyz Peered At His Ticket

  1. by jenCharacter – alien
  2. Setting – dry dock
  3. Object – one-way plane ticket
  4. Situation – obscene phone call

Xyblorgyz peered at his ticket. Murmansk. One way. It was the closest he could get to Tunguska. He hoped he wouldn’t miss his train connection. The shuttle to the mother-ship wouldn’t wait for stragglers.

But where was Niplodiuma? She should have been here by now.

Xyblorgyz’s digits fumbled with the tiny buttons as he tried to reach her on her Earthling cellphone.

“Hello?” said the female voice that answered.

“Plody, it’s me. Where are you?” he said in their native Centroplaxis tongue.

“Oh gross!” the female voice said. “You obscene phone callers need to get lives!”

That definitely wasn’t Plody. Xyblorgyz looked around at his fellow passengers. They were all brawny, sweaty, and wearing work gloves. How odd. His phone rang and Xyblorgyz answered it.

“Blorgy! Where are you?” It was Plody. “They’ve begun boarding!”

Xyblorgyz looked around.

“Not where I am.”

“Where are you?” She sounded frantic.

Xyblorgyz checked his translator. “Dry dock.”

“Blorgy! I told you to get that thing fixed! A dry dock is not the same as an airport!”

Xyblorgyz looked around in shocked horror.

“Oh, frazglark!”

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“Pierre, Get The Eel.”

  1. Character – French circus performer
  2. Setting – the principal’s office
  3. Object – live eel
  4. Situation – power outage

“Pierre, get the eel.”

“Oui, Monsieur Crampton.”

Jacques blundered out of the office, knowing it would make no difference if he corrected the man about his name. After all, he mused, do not all the French look the same in the dark?

Also, he decided to bring candles, as well as the eel. It was not, after all, electric, and would not be of any use to drive back the darkness.

Halfway to the supply room, he resolved to run away from the circus. The wrongness of the preposition infected the whole proposition and he abandoned his resolve. Besides, they’d track him down. Like they tracked down Crampton.

Why, oh why hadn’t they just left him to run that wretched school?

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