Tuesday's Ten Minute Tale - the result!
Aug. 12th, 2008 12:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
martinlivingsOkay, here we go. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
purrdence for "Vegemite", splanky for "Heath Ledger", and ashamel for "Ragnarok". And a bonus word, hkneale with "succulent". :)
"Happy Little..."
(c) Martin Livings 12-8-2008
"We're happy little Vegemites, as bright as bright could be..."
The maniac swings his axe in the food court, and it buries itself in the neck of a man who was too slow to duck. His blonde hair is sprayed with his own blood, and he tries to scream, but all that comes out is more blood, so much blood. The axe comes loose with a slurp like a gumboot being pulled out of the mud. People are screaming, running. The maniac keeps singing.
"We all enjoy our Vegemite for breakfast, lunch and tea..."
I just cower under a table, frozen, as the axe cuts the air again, leaving a mist of blood droplets behind it. This time it finds the gut of a middle-aged woman. Part of the axe head actually goes all the way through her, poking out of the floral pattern of the light dress she's wearing, a crimson bloom blossoming around it. She doesn't make a noise, just collapses, eyes rolled back in her head.
"Our mummies say we're growing stronger every single week..."
The maniac's face is pale, smeared with blood. His eyes are sunken, hollow, haunted. He looks for all the world like Heath Ledger did in that new Batman film, the one people complained about. They said it was too violent, that it would encourage copycats.
Maybe they knew what they were talking about, for a change.
"Because we love our Vegemite..."
A wild swing of the axe sent a succulent steak flying off the back of a portly man, who spun and fell into a growing pool of blood. A splash covers the maniac's t-shirt, a ragged black thing advertising some heavy metal band called Ragnarok.
"We all adore our Vegemite..."
A man's head splits clean in two down the middle, his ears landing on his shoulders.
Isn't Ragnarok a word for the end of the world?
"It puts a rose in every cheek!"
He holds that last note, his voice cracked, broken. A low swing of the axe, and a young woman is felled at the knees. Then he stops, both singing and swinging, and stands very still, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
Everyone's dead. Everyone but me. I'm so glad that song didn't have any more verses.
Then his eyes open, and he sees me. Smiles. Opens his mouth, and raises the axe.
"I like Aeroplane Jelly..."
purrdence for "Vegemite", splanky for "Heath Ledger", and ashamel for "Ragnarok". And a bonus word, hkneale with "succulent". :)"Happy Little..."
(c) Martin Livings 12-8-2008
"We're happy little Vegemites, as bright as bright could be..."
The maniac swings his axe in the food court, and it buries itself in the neck of a man who was too slow to duck. His blonde hair is sprayed with his own blood, and he tries to scream, but all that comes out is more blood, so much blood. The axe comes loose with a slurp like a gumboot being pulled out of the mud. People are screaming, running. The maniac keeps singing.
"We all enjoy our Vegemite for breakfast, lunch and tea..."
I just cower under a table, frozen, as the axe cuts the air again, leaving a mist of blood droplets behind it. This time it finds the gut of a middle-aged woman. Part of the axe head actually goes all the way through her, poking out of the floral pattern of the light dress she's wearing, a crimson bloom blossoming around it. She doesn't make a noise, just collapses, eyes rolled back in her head.
"Our mummies say we're growing stronger every single week..."
The maniac's face is pale, smeared with blood. His eyes are sunken, hollow, haunted. He looks for all the world like Heath Ledger did in that new Batman film, the one people complained about. They said it was too violent, that it would encourage copycats.
Maybe they knew what they were talking about, for a change.
"Because we love our Vegemite..."
A wild swing of the axe sent a succulent steak flying off the back of a portly man, who spun and fell into a growing pool of blood. A splash covers the maniac's t-shirt, a ragged black thing advertising some heavy metal band called Ragnarok.
"We all adore our Vegemite..."
A man's head splits clean in two down the middle, his ears landing on his shoulders.
Isn't Ragnarok a word for the end of the world?
"It puts a rose in every cheek!"
He holds that last note, his voice cracked, broken. A low swing of the axe, and a young woman is felled at the knees. Then he stops, both singing and swinging, and stands very still, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
Everyone's dead. Everyone but me. I'm so glad that song didn't have any more verses.
Then his eyes open, and he sees me. Smiles. Opens his mouth, and raises the axe.
"I like Aeroplane Jelly..."
