The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #21


The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #21

The Twelve Days of Christmas – Day Eight

One Picture

One Element

One Emotion

200 Words


9 Ladies Dancing


Note: After the elements were published and several stories were submitted in the comments, it was noticed that Day 8 should be ‘8 Maids a Milking’, not ‘8 Ladies Dancing’. Rather than removing the stories and having the author resubmit, I am changing the order. Hence, todays element is changed to 9 Ladies Dancing and I will edit each story in the comments accordingly. Tomorrow’s elements will be 8 Maids a Milking. Sorry.

Please add your story in the comments below.

7 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #21

  1. We don’t get snow in Sebring, instead we get mid-winter thunderstorms.

    The daylight faded to dusk as a storm front rolled in. Lightning lit across the sky. I laughed as I thought about the water aerobics class hauling ass out of the pool back at the Waters.

    I turned the radio on. The deejay gave a weather update and then resumed with the weekend countdown of classic 80s hits.

    Pour Some Sugar on Me never fails to exhilarate.

    “Step inside, walk this way, you and me babe, HEY HEY…,” I whisper-yelled aloud as the track kicked off.

    My drive took me past a couple used car lots, a laundry and tan, and no less than four churches. The rain turned to a deluge and I slowed to a crawl as I came to the town center.

    The courthouse sat on a block of lawn on the town square. A white gazebo stood off to the side.

    I saw somewhere between seven and nine glistening young women under the gazebo.

    They danced sexily, in close proximity, in what I can only assume was a bachelorette party rocking its way through a rain delay.

    They were singing along to Def Leppard too.

  2. Part 8

    Lightning struck the bridge across the bay. Where was he? When following the man through the portal there was no way of knowing where he’d find himself. San Francisco? Did he catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate far off to the north?
    “Ha ha! I feel the exhilaration of victory! Soon she will be mine again!”
    The madman was oblivious to the world, with his huge hands helping him leapfrog along the bridge and leaving Brad behind.
    Brad kept to a steady jog and followed the long line of stunned pedestrians and motorists he found. Resting to catch his breath, he saw men being thrown out of a nightclub. That must be it. As he opened the doors, screams filled the place. There was chaos inside as people scambled to escape. In the centre of the dancefloor, his man was surrounded by a group of dancing woman. Nine ladies dancing. Time was running out. What was it the first man said? ‘We’re all doomed, infinite possibilities are within his grasp’. What did that mean? Why were we all doomed if this man succeeded? A portal opened up again, and the dancefloor was empty. Brad jumped into the closing dimension.

  3. Episode 8

    FX: Train sounds

    Narrator – “ The presence Jack had felt seemed so real, so palpable. Some how, some way he KNEW there had been another person in that boxcar with him. He felt exhilarated, energized ….. alive. It was at this very moment the train entered a bridge that crossed a wide inlet. There was a parallel highway bridge about a quarter to a half mile away. Just as those words left his lips … “

    Jack – ”Show yourself”,

    Narrator – “ … The sky lit up with a flash of lightning that split into nine individual arms. Like nine ladies dancing back and forth across the bridge they moved to and fro for what seemed to Jack, an eternity. Speechless, jack sat frozen in the presence of such immense power that he was truly put in his place. Was this an answer to his request, or was it simply a coincidence? Lightning happens all the time, but the timing of this event was …. uncanny. How could this be … nothing at all?

    Jack drew back from the gap in the door. He was trembling. He couldn’t think, as the vision of such a spectacle consumed him.”

    Jack – “ What was that?

    Narrator – “What if it was God? The implications of that question were astronomical. Jack leaned back to the crack in the doorway and peered out again; his eyes searched for something, anything to confirm his suspicions; to answer his question. It was all just dark fog. Leaning back from the doorway, Jack Brandy stood in the darkness of his boxcar …… and trembled.

    FX: one long whistle blast then train sounds fading

  4. Breaking through Xmas song on TV. ‘9 ladies dancing..’. Sirens. Look out window in wonderment. Convoy of ambulances and police cars racing along the Main Street. Sirens in the night. The days before they built the motorway. Narrow twisting roads connecting countryside to little towns, villages. No police helicopters then, either.

    Later, they returned. Quiet. Empty.

    Must have been some accident, we thought. Trying to think of industrial premises, big enough for this reaction. Nothing down our road except fields. The cotton mill no longer in business. Conclusion – our well known accident black-spot had claimed more lives.

    In the days to come, we were quite simply overwhelmed with disbelief. No accident. A deliberate act. Someone’s plan. If on time, would have been over the ocean. Nothing to see. No blame attached.

    Instead, quick as lightning, a small Scottish town thrown into mourning. Become a set piece for the worlds media.

    In that town about a week later, no Xmas on show. Mark of respect. Many people, the country over, took down their decorations.

    High fencing protected the town from on-lookers. Scorched main road, the only sign. Endless strips of paper, of material on tree branches for miles around.

    Twenty-five years on. We remember. No exhilaration this xmas.

  5. The nurse greeted Kathie downstairs. ‘I’m worried your father is failing, Kathie. He’s not eaten a thing for two days now. He’s very weak.’

    The old man lay quietly, his skin parchment-white, the only movement, weak breathing.

    ‘If you’ll stay with him,’ the nurse said to Kathie, ‘I’ll heat up some pea’n’ham soup.’

    ‘Good idea,’ his daughter said. ‘He loves pea soup. If anything can tempt him, that will be it.’ She sat beside the bed, his frail hand in hers. ‘Come on, Dad. Please.’

    The old man didn’t respond.

    ‘The nurse said to keep talking to you, Dad, so I’ve decided to describe this wonderful book of photographs I’ve bought you for your next birthday.’ She took a shuddering breath, consumed with thinking there might not be a next birthday. ‘The first picture shows a suspension bridge disappearing into the night, street lights illuminating the carriageway, lightening strikes pummelling the uppermost structures, a stunning electrical storm. You’ll love it. Maybe even you’ll want to paint it.’ She looked for a response.


    ‘The next photo is of nine ladies dancing—’

    He murmured something. She leaned closer.

    ‘…without a stitch on,’ he whispered.

    ‘Dad!’ she said, feeling a surge of exhilaration.

    He winked.

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