INTERACTION

Sigh...mine too.

Still, I got some writing inspiration out of it.

Congrats to anyone who got in...

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http://www.alisonlittlewood.co.uk

Possibly I should have taken a bit more time over mine...

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http://jimsteel.wordpress.com/

Mine was rejected too:



Well, if I made them that frightened...

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My Blog: http://bob-lock.blogspot.com/

Debut novel site: http://www.flamesofherakleitos.com/

I am up for reading anyone's if they post it to their site or even here

I'm another reject...

I realised to my horror after submitting, on rereading the brief for the first time in weeks, that it probably looked like I was simply trying to tick the right boxes, although actually the story came from somewhere quite personal. On the other hand, being a last minute job, it was probably shoddily executed too!

I was going to blog mine, but I will probably try and develop it and resubmit somewhere. Which means it will probably end up on my blog eventually.

I'll be interested to read the updates & analysis on the campaign blog.

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http://www.scan-tech.co.uk/mikealx
http://www.myspace.com/veldtmusic
Folder printing high quality presentation folders

That was a lot of "probablies". What a decisive character I am!

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http://www.scan-tech.co.uk/mikealx
http://www.myspace.com/veldtmusic
Folder printing high quality presentation folders

I've posted mine on my blog (link in my sig), in case any of you lovely people are curious

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Blogarific!

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I enjoyed yours Matthew but am glad my grand-kids don't attend your classes

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My Blog: http://bob-lock.blogspot.com/

Debut novel site: http://www.flamesofherakleitos.com/

Aye, I liked the schizophrenic feel

Here's mine, Buon Appetito!


A MATTER OF TASTE

‘Well?’ he asked, the empty fork hovering in Gail’s line of sight, ‘am I right? Does it taste delicious or not?’
She wanted to vomit. To spew it back into his face. To rub it into his eyes. To claw those eyes out and grind
them into the worn carpet with her bare feet. She smiled.

‘I take it all back. I’ve never tasted anything like this before. It was out of this world. Fabulous.
Devlin, you are a genius. What’s next?’

The man’s face simply beamed with delight. His furrowed brow smoothed out and his eyes twinkled upon receiving the compliment.
The fork lowered. She relaxed a little and waited.

‘Right. Something special next. It’s a Czech dish, one my grandmother used to make; it’s called Jatrov Knedliky.
The broth just has to simmer a little longer. Meantime please help yourself to some finger dips.
That one is asparagus guacamole, it’s quite a delicate flavour and the other is honey mustard. You might find it a little zestier.
Please, enjoy.’ He pointed to them with the fork and she tried not to flinch.
He turned his attention to the saucepan simmering away and for perhaps the hundredth time she tested her bonds.
They did not budge. Apart from her right hand she was totally secured to the chair.
If he would allow her to use a knife perhaps she could try to cut through the wide leather straps holding her down,
but she had no knife and she dreaded to think what he would do if she attempted to escape again.
It would bring forward her turn to cook for him and that paralysed her with fear.
He turned suddenly, as if tuned in to her thoughts.

‘Come on slow coach,’ he said, grinning. ‘Tuck in.’

He moved the sauces and the finger dips closer to her and waited. She took one and dipped it into the honey mustard sauce.
She imagined it would have the strongest flavour. A flavour which would mask everything else.
Gail bit into it. She had to bite hard. She had to chew vigorously. She had to force it down her throat.

‘Lovely,’ she said, keeping it down.



The Jatrov Knedliky proved to be chopped liver dumplings in a chicken broth.
How he’d managed to remove part of his liver she couldn’t imagine. The first course, the prairie oyster appetizers,
was easier she thought. Although the removal of his testicles must have smarted.
The remaining thumb and finger of his left hand seemed adequate enough for him to continue cooking with,
but it definitely impeded him. She needed a way out before it was her turn to cook for the madman and have to carve into her own body.

She smiled at him. ‘Do you know what I really enjoy?’

He clapped enthusiastically. ‘Oh do tell!’

She blushed. ‘I have a terrible craving for brawn cooked in white wine sauce.’

‘Terrific!’ He cried and ran off to get his electric saw... and a mirror.

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My Blog: http://bob-lock.blogspot.com/

Debut novel site: http://www.flamesofherakleitos.com/

Well I was about to eat dinner... thanks for that. Puts the Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom scene to shame.

Whilst we're all admitting to unaccepted entries, here I am to join you.

[Actually, sorry, had to remove Here I Am because it's been accepted for an anthology. Well, nobody said I had to, but I think it may be good ettiquette. Thanks for all the kind words.]

Would love to know how he got some of his liver out, Bob

Ray, that was definitely a Real Fear, got that uncomfortable feeling as I got near the end. Loved it!

Hehe, thanks Bob

Bob and Ray, both of yours were excellent, and really creeped me out.

Looking at the standard of the work that was turned down, the stories that were accepted must be incredible.

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The same way I got some of mine out, Marc, with a blunt spoon....
I liked your story about nationalism gone mad too

Yeah, Mat, it will be interesting to see who and what made the final cut.

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My Blog: http://bob-lock.blogspot.com/

Debut novel site: http://www.flamesofherakleitos.com/

Thanks for comments.

Just read yours, Matt. As a teacher, I can totally relate! (Not sure that's good though...)