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Author Topic: New Challenge - Paranormal Thriller -- Toast  (Read 40 times)
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« on: July 25, 2010, 09:17:26 PM »

New Challenge (thank BG for this one)
Posted by Sonoran Mamma on June 23, 2008 at 8:32pm

I was reading another writer blog today, and in that small group they have set up a challenge, similar to the one we have regarding a picture, but this one goes a little deeper.

The word: toast

The genre: paranormal thriller.

So now you write a paranormal thriller about toast. See how easy that is?

See, I told y'all that you can thank BG as she unknowingly gave me both the noun and genre.

I'll give us all...*taps chin* oh hell... it's open ended, and yes bed, any form of writing works.
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 Permalink Reply by Benevolent Goddess on June 23, 2008 at 8:41pm
Delete smartass.
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by Benevolent Goddess on June 23, 2008 at 10:47pm
Delete It burned! He thought he might scream from the agony. The tiny room that the aliens put him in burned his skin. The walls had started out black, but as each millisecond ticked by, they grew hotter and hotter, redder and redder. His mission had failed. He was going to die. They were all going to die.

Eldor met his contact at the bakery, as usual. His informant handed over top secret information on the Carpu infiltration of the butcher shop next door. As the invisible shapeshifters mind melded, the informant showed him images and conversations of the Carpu’s plot to plant their breeding spores into the meat called “bacon wrapped filet”. The spores would be consumed by the hu-mons and the Carpu spores would take over their minds and bodies and eventually, food. The hu-mons had no hope without Eldor’s people – the destroyers of the evil Carpu. As the last image, that of the butcher called “Vinnie” (now a spore-host) faded from his mind, the Carpu attacked!

Beams of energy, deadly to their species but harmless to the bread and machinery and the hu-mons, flew around the building. The wounded Carpu piled in heaps that the hu-mons walked right through – spores sticking to their clothing and skin. Desperate to escape to tell the others of the evil plot, Eldor shifted, turning in to the image of very thing he was standing next to – a seed on a lovely loaf of pumpernickel. From his open hiding place, he waited and watched silently, as the Carpu dragged the informant away. He didn’t dare change back – they could see through the window.

Nightfall came. Eldor waited as the hu-mons bustled around him and the Carpu watched through the window. The hu-mons holding plastic bags came closer, bagging up the bread and stuffing them in carts for shipment. They came closer. Eldor couldn’t shift in the plastic – the chemistry made it impossible. He couldn’t shift before the hu-mons bagged him up with the bread, looking as he did, because the Carpu would see him and he’d be shot before the twist tie even closed. So he waited and allowed himself to be bagged and slung under the arm of a departing baker. He could see the spores on the baker’s skin.

He only needed a moment out of the plastic to shift. Just a quick moment and he’d be gone.

The hu-mon baker, though, liked his bread fresh and as soon as two slices were removed, Eldor was thrown into the toaster.

It burned, oh how it burned… .
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by mina{Mariner} on June 26, 2008 at 2:30pm
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Delete Bonnie hated mornings. She always had, but it was worse now since He was gone. Everyday since His passing the same thing happened every single day. She threw the covers off and sniffed the air like a hunting dog. She could smell the burn. She slipped her feet into slippers and wrapped a fleece robe around her chilled skin. She padded to the doorway, made her way down the long hall, and entered the kitchen. There it was…waiting…seeming to call at her.

Toast.

Two slices of seeded whole grain breaded peeked up from the slots in the toaster. She just stared at them.

How could this possibly be happening? How long would it go on? Was her dead Master trying to communicate with her somehow?

Bonnie had been without her One, the Love of her life, for three months now. He has passed suddenly during a blow job last spring. Bonnie wiped a tear from her eye. When He had cried out, “I’m coming!!” she thought He was talking to her, but now she knew He was speaking to the Big Master in the sky. They had been together many years, during which Bonnie served as an excellent slave girl, tending to all His needs and desires. In return, as a token of His love for her, He would make His girl toast every morning before leaving for work. In seventeen years He had only missed one day, the day He went to the big dungeon up above.

Bonnie buttered the toast and took a bite. What did it mean? Why would He contact her this way and not with a swift smack to the ass like He used to do to get her attention? She had so many questions and knew only one person who might be able to help her. Her friend Erica had been involved in the paranormal scene for years. Maybe she could help. Bonnie called her after the last bite and arranged for her to come over that afternoon to see if she could make sense of any of this.

~

Erica arrived that afternoon in all her glory. She wore a scarf on her head and a flowing caftan that covered her ample curves. The sage was already lit and she was waving it in the yard while chanting something that sounded an awful lot like mu shu shrimp…mu shu shrimp. Bonnie let her in and Erica just nodded to her and continued either calling spirits or placing a to go order. Bonnie giggled to herself at the thought of having her very own Toastbuster making a house call.

Erica spiritually cleansed all the rooms and then sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, legs crossed, arms raised to the heavens.

“Speak to me, Master of the bonnie lass. Tell me what You need.”

Bonnie listened…nothing.

Again Erica called out.

“Speak to me…I command You.”

Bonnie choked on the lemonade she had been sipping.

“Um, Erica? Even in death I don’t think my Master would react to a command by obeying it. You might want to ask a bit more…um…humbly?

Bonnie knew Erica didn’t give a crop about the Master/slave dynamic but she humored Bonnie anyway.

“Oh Sir…Master Gregory? Your girl is going nutters here with all the bread stuff and if it would please You…can Ya let us in on this cosmically buttered joke?

Bonnie waited…she heard nothing.

Erica, on the other hand, shivered and whipped her head about.

“He is here.”

Bonnie’s eyes followed.

“I don’t see anything. Where is He?”

“Hush, my friend. He is speaking to me.”

Erica sat and rocked, mouthing words to the ceiling and concentrating intently on her mission.

“He’s gone.”

Bonnie’s eyes welled up.

“Why didn’t He speak to me? His girl? His freakin’ bonnie lass?”

Erica shrugged.

“The afterlife is about as messed up as this one at times. He can’t seem to communicate to you in that way.”

“What did He say? Why does He keep making me breakfast?”

Erica hoisted herself from the floor and plopped on one of the kitchen chairs.

“He’s taking care of you.”

“With toast?Huh?

Erica laughed, exposing a hole where her front tooth used to reside.

“Yep. He has been doing all sorts of other stuff too, things you write off as coincidence or luck. The
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by mina{Mariner} on June 26, 2008 at 3:03pm
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Delete (seemed it got cut off....the ending here)

“Yep. He has been doing all sorts of other stuff too, things you write off as coincidence or luck. The toast is just the most obvious and consistent way that He appears to you.”

“Is He okay?”

“He is wonderful. He is running a slave academy and spends much time training submissive souls that will be born soon. He will not forget His promise though.”

“Promise?”

“He said He would take care of you forever. He meant it, kiddo. He is still your Master…oh, and He said you need to focus more during your meditations and stop thinking about new shoes.”

Bonnie gulped.

“I always said the Man could read my mind and now He actually is!!”

“Get used to it. He ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

The toaster popped and both women turned to the counter…two slices ready to go.

Bonnie smiled at Erica.

“Hungry?”

“Nah…the last house I visited had a spirit that made guacamole and chips…I am stuffed. Ta ta, dearie.”

Erica left and Bonnie took the toast and buttered it. She was about to take a huge bite and remembered the rule. She thought to herself….may I, Master?

A breeze blew through the kitchen and her nipples hardened.

She nibbled the toast, knowing permission had been granted and that she was not, and never would be, alone.
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by Jane Harris on August 14, 2008 at 8:59am
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Delete The old man sat in the flickering light of the fire and inhaled deeply on the long elaborately carved pipe. The smoke from the Seeing Herbs flooded his lungs and was absorbed into his bloodstream. As the suffused blood entered his brain it allowed tendrils of thought spread outwards. They passed over the winding river and through the conical forest where his people sheltered, searching ever outwards.
The Raven King became aware of a presence in the outer margins of his mind.
“I see you Shaman,” said the Raven King “and I have been expecting you.”
“I see you Raven King,” replied the Old Man” did you find the pinda-lickoyee”?
“I did, you may see with my eyes”
In the far off tent the world as the Raven King saw it was revealed to the mind of the old man. Ahead him there were orderly rows of white tents interspersed with campfires. Directly below, visible through the lower branches of a tree, was a circle of men being addressed by a slight, bearded figure.
“These are their leaders and the bearded one their chief”“
Are these all there are? There are fewer than I expected, a few hundred only”
“This is all there are Shaman”
“Surely they will not attack us?”
“They do not realise how many of your people are here, the bearded pinda-lickoyee is confident that he has enough men to deal with you”
“They do seem very confident”
“They are”
“You are sure they will come tomorrow?”
“I will show you”
The vision inside the Old Mans head changed. The fires grew dim and the colour disappeared from the world. The men below became grey shadows with their outlines becoming less distinct.
“The death shadow is already upon them Raven King”
“Their fate is written Shaman, very few will see another sunset”
“A victory then”
“I fear it will do your people no good Shaman they will hunt you down and in the end they will win”
“But maybe this will make them take note and we can come to an agreement?”
“They do not keep their promises, they have little honour, and they will abide by any agreement only as long as it suits them”
“I fear you are right Raven King." said the old man sadly. "And now I must leave you so that I can speak to the leaders of my people”
“Go in peace Shaman”
“And so with you Raven King”
The Raven King felt the Old Man slip from his mind. He sat for a little longer on the tree branch watching and listening. Language was no barrier to the Raven Kings understanding. While the doings of man were not usually his concern he knew in the long run that these newcomers would not respect the land and the creatures that depended on it, as did The People of whom the old man belonged, but there was little he could do. What he did know was that tomorrow there would be plenty of carrion for his Ravens and the tribes of Coyote and Rat. It gave him a little comfort.
The Raven King spread his wings and glided silently over the group below. As he did one of the men stepped into the centre of the ring of faces, and raised his drinking vessel.
“Gentlemen! I give you a triple toast. To Victory and glory! To the 7th Cavalry of the United States Army and to General George Armstrong Custer”
Raven King flew away towards his roost followed by lusty cheering from the direction of the invaders camp. “Tomorrow” he thought, “when he lies dead at Greasy Grass I will find the bearded one and I will have his eyes”. If it had been possible for the Raven King to smile, he would have done it then.
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by Jane Harris on August 14, 2008 at 9:03am
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Delete Mine isnt really a thriller Mamma but its got the other bits
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by Benevolent Goddess on August 14, 2008 at 10:33am
Delete Toast! You made a toast! Lmaooooooooooo I just love you, Jane. Well done and well written!
 

 
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 Permalink Reply by Haru on September 4, 2008 at 2:45pm
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Delete OK will give this another try I guess. Because I'm no real poet and I know it.

POWDERED TOAST MAN

Where have you gone Powered Toast man?
You used to be on TV.
On a show I used to love
Featuring Ren and Stimpy.

Are you in my closet,
Waiting to be heard?
Or maybe the welfare line
Flipping the government the bird.

Does your ass still serve powered toast?
Or is the flame burned out.
I hope you're behind Mr. Bush
So you can stalk about.

Awaiting when you can toast again.
Is that you behind the door?
Awaiting to serve us bread.
Is that you I can hear some more?
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