100 Words of Astounding Beauty Red Button Audio @RedBAudio
S02E10 - Sequels II
Featuring
Guest | Sequelising the work of | Title of original | Episode no | Editor | Title of sequel | |
1 | Amelia Armande | Tom McNally | My Proventriculus Overflows with Love | s02e07 | Claudia Treacher | I Love You With All of my Cephalothorax |
2 | Joshua Crisp | Claudia Treacher | 31 Weeks | s01e10 | Amelia Armande | Red Vs Wade |
3 | Paul Davies | Amelia Armande | Telltale | s02e02 | Joshua Crisp | The Defaced Volume |
4 | Claudia Treacher | Paul Davies | Prospectors | s02e01 | Tom McNally | Gauges |
5 | Tom McNally | Joshua Crisp | Meat slave | s01e05 | Paul Davies | Metempsychosis |
Listener | Submission title | Prompt | |
1 | Ella Brasington | Taxus bacchanalia | s02e09 |
2 | The Masochists | N/A |
Welcome to One Hundred Words of Astounding Beauty, a flash-fiction podcast where a handful of writers each make a story with a limited wordcount in a limited time.
This is the tenth episode of our second season. Surely you know what that means? That means it is a season finale! Surely you know what that means? That means it’s a Sequels episode! Yes! Sound the sequeling bell!
Claudia, you be the bell. Thank you.
I am your host, Tom McNally and joining me tonight, introducing themselves with a tiny new story prompted by a single word, are our writers:
The goblins that live in my kitchen are adorable, but they struggle with some concepts. One tricky one is that eating things does not come under the umbrella of 'borrowing'. |
I borrowed her life. Her sharp focused mind. Her potential. She used herself up on me. Squeezed herself dry. Now she doesn’t remember me. I keep apologising. I can’t give it back. |
Could I just – ta. Um, excuse me, do you mind if I – thanks. Is it okay if – oh, no, okay you. No no, that’s fine. I’ll get my own. Thanks. |
She had borrowed many pens over the years. “Can I borrow this?” she’d ask of a biro, and then wouldn’t give it back. Her bedroom walls were studded with lids. |
The nitrogen: from the sky, |
Listeners, our team has travelled the deepest mountains and plumbed the tallest depths in training for today’s task - to write 100 Words of Astounding Beauty for you!
But first we mix the black powder of inspiration. This is a Sequels episode, so our writers have selected their own prompt - a previous 100 Words story from one of their fellow writers. They will write a sequel to that story. ‘Sequel’ here is meant loosely - it does not need to follow directly on from the prompt - it can be a prequel, an equal or a squeakquel in the tradition of Alvin and also the Chipmunks.
Listeners - you can write along with us. Pick a story from a previous episode and sequelise it without mercy. We will drill directly to the centre of the Earth in jubilation when we receive any of your own 100 words of Astounding Beauty. Send them as text or a sound file and let us know if you’d like us to read them out or play them in the next episode.
Writers, before we begin the sacred calling of sequel-making, I want to ask you which story you have selected and a little bit of why. We’ll play the full story later, so just let the listeners know where your head is at.
Guest | Sequelising the work of | Title of original | Episode no |
Amelia Armande | Tom McNally | My Proventriculus Overflows with Love | s02e07 |
Joshua Crisp | Claudia Treacher | 31 Weeks | s01e10 |
Paul Davies | Amelia Armande | Telltale | |
Claudia Treacher | Paul Davies | Prospectors | s02e01 |
Tom McNally | Joshua Crisp | Meat slave | s01e05 |
Listeners, if you’re writing along with us at home, pause here and time yourself for five minutes because we’re going to skip ahead.
Sequelising Tom McNally |
Previous story in the sequence |
My Proventriculus Overflows with Love |
The sweet babies crave the meat. I won’t deny them. I dribble the paste into their silk crib. Soft. Slow. Tender. I think of killing some more. I want to go and kill right away, to bring back a belly of meat for the babies, but first I must wait. They are slow sometimes! My heart. My babies. It is love to kill. It is love to take the meat. But the most love is when the babies return my love. When they glurp up the syrup from their own soft bodies. They look at me and I know. More. |
Amelia Armande’s sequel - first draft |
My Cephalothorax Opens For You |
My opponent is worthy. She tears herself free of my sticky threads and sinks her barb into me again and again. I feel my body stiffen as the poison flows through my limbs. Dust and leaves. I am not dead yet. She drags me, ungainly, into a papery darkness. The wax pod around me is too small - my limbs stick over the edges. But I shelter a clutch of precious pearls. Tiny eggs that seem to glow with their own light. When they begin their beautiful uncurling into larvae, I cannot deny them my flesh in offering. They are so young. So beautiful. Yes, little babies. More. Take more. |
Word count: 109 |
Amelia, your editor is: Claudia Treacher |
Claudia Treacher’s edits Delightfully eerie! How about something like “My Cephalothorax Hungers For You”? It’s more sexual/foodie? I’m not sure about the ”Dust and leaves” line, it did jerk me out of the narrative a moment – if you need to cut wordcount it could be here? This line would be cool the other way round maybe (just a suggestion): She drags me, ungainly, into a papery darkness. I am not dead yet. Cause it might mark the transition more clearly with a nice short cliffhanger? Tbh in my sleep deprived state I’m not entirely sure what has happened in between the opponent and the eggs… so you could make that a bit clearer? The transition from being dragged to having eggs–is it that the opponent fertilised the narrator? The end is great! I love it! |
Word count: ?? |
Amelia Armande’s sequel - second draft |
I Love You with All of my Cephalothorax |
My opponent is worthy. She tears free from my sticky threads and sinks her barb into me. My body stiffens as the poison flows through my limbs. She drags me, ungainly, into papery darkness. I am not dead yet. The wax pod around me is too small - my limbs stick over the edges. But within the pod - a clutch of precious pearls. Tiny eggs that seem to glow with their own light. When they begin their beautiful uncurling into larvae, I cannot deny them my flesh in offering. They are so young. So exquisite. Yes, little babies. More. Take more. |
Word count: 100 |
Sequelising Claudia Treacher |
Previous story in the sequence |
31 Weeks |
9 months and 30 weeks later, Ginger sat in the Royal Court waiting miserably to hear the outcome of her shelf-life appeal. The representatives of Mars, Incorporated were arguing for her demise. “The sugar-coating will go first,” the lawyer explained. “Corporealization after birth has not lengthened the shelf-life of this item.” She buried her orange face in her hands as they accused her desire to stay alive of endangering the public. It was a health hazard. They held the rights and liability. She had none for herself. Ginger sobbed as she contemplated her return to the cold-prison of her fridge. |
Joshua Crisp’s sequel - first draft |
Red vs Wade |
It is the considered opinion of this court that one cannot brutalise an object. A quo, Chocolate non-persons are neither considered citizens nor sentient. Ergo Federal laws designed to protect and safeguard inalienable rights cannot be functionally applied to items. In the cases regarding Rape, legal owners have license to seek civil redress under a state’s property damage and theft legislation ad quod damnum. To suggest that objects can be enslaved is ex facie absurd, and all such claims are dismissed. It is time to heed the constitution and return the issue of personhood to the people’s elected representatives. |
Word count: 98 |
Joshua Crisp, your editor is: Amelia Armande |
Amelia Armande’s edits I’m really struggling with this one. I’m not au fait enough with legal terms, but I can tell you as a civilian, these legal terms are not pinging my brain enough. I guess you could push more into the legalese, but I think it might be worth making it a bit more accessible so we can follow the emotional thread. Speaking of. What I want from this is the emotional message. Legalese only works when we can see what it’s hiding. How are we meant to feel about this? Angry? Helpless? That this lawyer is a prick? That justice is not being upheld? Or is this funny? Absurd? Pick something and run with it. A few points I struggle with: If the prosecution wants to call Ginger an object, how are we getting around the fact that they can literally speak and display emotion? If Ginger is an object, and therefore their sire is an object, I don’t think we actually can call this rape, and that might be a stronger tack to take in this defence. It’s not rape if another person was not directly or indirectly involved. You can make it more of a thing about personhood. Not enamoured of the last line either. Is this a closing statement? The decision of the judge? Like, if you want it to be ‘this isn’t a person, and we’re keeping rights for people’ I want it less obfuscated. I think denial of personhood is a strong line with what you’re already working with. Another option is to pull like half of this, condense it right down, and give us another viewpoint. What does the defence have to say? What about the protesters outside? What chants, what placards? I think seeing the opposite side of this issue might help clarify it. |
Word count: |
Joshua Crisp’s sequel - second draft |
Red vs Wade |
It is the considered opinion of this court that one cannot brutalise an object. The leaked draft sparked impotent outrage. Federal laws designed to safeguard inalienable rights cannot be functionally applied to non-persons. Placards and chanting and futile noise. Regarding Rape, it is the Mars corporation, not their owned commodities that would be able seek civil redress under property damage and theft legislation. An empty twitter void filled with screams and pain. To suggest that products can be enslaved is ex facie absurd, and all such claims are dismissed. God bless this Court. God bless the United States of America. |
Word count: 100 |
Sequelising Amelia Armande |
Previous story in the sequence |
Telltale |
You must understand that I am not mad. I was made to read the short story for an English essay - I did not seek it out. And look - see here how calm and balanced my essay is, despite the strange sounds that had begun to emanate from the book as I read. Truly, my self control was remarkable. It would not leave, the sound. Even when I had torn all the pages from the original it persisted, like blood in my ears. Listen! Can't you hear its evil heart still beating in its empty covers? Fine me not, gentle Librarian! |
Paul Davies’ sequel - first draft |
The Defaced Volume |
It approached me, this perverse Imp, head hung in a mockery of shame, clutching the shell of the book it had wilfully defaced. In the first instance I could not perceive the extent of the damage wrought; at a distance, the cover seemed to have suffered no more indignity than the expected wear. But the Imp, its eyes betraying madness and no little insolence, proffered the book with a meek insistence that its vandalism was in some macabre way justified. It dared ask me this: to waive, waive I say, the fine. For an instant a streak of pity passed through me. But no. I could not let this villainy pass. I could not. I, a librarian? I insisted upon a full repayment of the original cost of the book, and calmly, quite certainly, and without a shade of doubt in this action, rescinded the child’s library membership in perpetuity. |
Word count: 150 |
Paul Davies, your editor is: Joshua Crisp |
Right. I’ve tightened it down to 100 words. Had to lose some repetition, but what do you want? I like the run-on sentences and tried to keep as many as I could, but some of them had to be sacrificed for brevity. You probably want to look at the waive, waive I say bit because I’m not sure about it, but it’s really fun :) The Imp approached, head hung in a mockery of shame. Its eyes betraying madness and no little insolence. It proffered the shell of the book it had wilfully defaced with a meek insistence that its vandalism was in some macabre way justified. It dared ask me this: to waive, waive I say, the fine. For an instant a streak of pity passed through me. But I could not let this villainy pass. I could not. I, a librarian? I insisted upon a full repayment of the original cost of the book, and calmly rescinded the child’s library membership in perpetuity. |
Word count: 100 |
Paul Davies’ sequel - second draft |
The Defaced Volume |
I could not, instantly, perceive the extensiveness of the Damage; from afar, the covers appeared subject to no more indignity than expected wear. But this perverse Imp, eyes betraying madness and no small insolence, proffered the gutted book with an insistence that its vandalism was, in some macabre way, justified. It dared ask this: to waive—waive, I say—the fine. Momently, a fleeting Pity inhabited me. But no: I could not let this villainy pass. I could not. I, a Librarian? I demanded absolute reimbursement of the restock cost; and, sans hesitation, rescinded the child’s library membership in perpetuity. |
Word count: 100 |
Sequelising Paul Davies |
Previous story in the sequence |
Prospectors |
Brittle birds, the world’s birds. They inhabit the scattered inches of the city. They fit in, they interpolate. Around them hulks the fat velocity of the traffic. They nest and visit. This bit is forbidden; this bit, a bin. This is litter, this is, look! -- nibblable bits. Twitter it, twitter it. We live in it, we birds. We flit, we chatter. The twigs are thick enough, still; the ice familiar. Listen: water. Forests are in it. Rivulets. And off we set. Soaring, above all, hush, the air, we feel it, it is ever, it is all, it is our limit. |
Claudia Treacher’ sequel - first draft |
Working Title: Barometers |
Here, high, a nest in the roof. Here, side, hatch in the shade. Tiny pecks, fledging fluff, a feather. Mama flies to catch raindrops in the air, insects in swarm, a ball at the back of her throat. Drier and drier, and then dry today. The spiders have a funny taste. The sun heats the stone. Our tiny wings with a little down get warmer. The nest starts to heat. It is hot enough. Where are my siblings? We flap out of the shade, wings not much bigger than dragonflies. The sun dazzles us. Listen: Together. |
Word count: 103 |
Claudia Treacher, your editor is: Tom McNally |
Tom McNally’s edits Title needs to echo - hasn’t got there yet We fledglings flap out of the shade together. The sun dazzles our eyes. Where are my siblings? We drop like stones to the ground. |
Word count: |
Claudia Treacher’s sequel - second draft |
Gauges |
Here, high, a nest in the roof. Here, side, hatch in the shade. Tiny pecks, fledging-fluff, some feathers. Mama flies to catch raindrops in the air, insects for eating, a ball at the back of the throat. Drier and drier, and then dry today. The spiders have a funny taste. The sun heats the stone. Our wing nubs with a little down get warmer. The nest starts to heat. It is too hot. We flap out of the shade, wings not much bigger than dragonflies. Where are my siblings? The sun dazzles us. |
Word count: 100 |
Sequelising Joshua Crisp |
Previous story in the sequence |
Meat slave |
She slurped up the filthy piss water and wallowed in her filth. She was shitting openly into the pond as she gulped down more and more. The liquid brown and fetid. Soiled. Children’s fingers condemned her with excitement and scandal through mesh fencing. By day there were often children watching her. They only left at nights, when she would rut with her mate in the turgid grunting gloaming, half-hour orgasm after half-hour orgasm until she was spent, and he was dribbling cum into the muck. That base pleasure seemed tawdry compared to the triple ecstasy of defecating, drinking and pissing. |
Tom McNally’s sequel - first draft |
Transference |
Seth stared at the tilt-a-whirl. It would be painless and quick to put his head in the machinery. Fiona dragged his attention away from the long thought by handing him his bun. She’d been queuing for some time in the heat.
Seth took a small bite from the pulled pork burger, expecting it to taste of nothing. “Let’s renew our vows,” he said, and could not stop sobbing. |
Word count: 100 |
Tom McNally your editor is: Paul Davies |
Paul Davies’ edits Hm, ‘long’ thought? Don’t know why. I get the title, but yes it’s terrible. I think there’s a better term, more technical – transubsantiation? Ooo Metempsychosis? Incarnation? (The carne- root too subtle?) Alternatively, different tack: pleasures of the flesh? (on the nose) Maybe the third para needs a bit more to clarify the cause of the pleasure. Maybe ‘the pleasure’ needs to start the sentence? Make space in para one by cutting unnecessary details. The suicidal thought is maybe *too* vivid? However, name the farm? Have Fiona make more of the irony? ‘Snort’ the comment? Do we want not to like her? |
Word count: |
Tom McNally’s sequel - second draft |
Metempsychosis |
Seth was staring at nothing in particular when Fiona caught his attention by handing him his bun. He hadn’t noticed she’d been queueing.
Seth took a bite from the pulled pork burger, expecting the taste of nothing. “Let’s go back to Inverness,” he said, and could not stop sobbing. “Let’s renew our vows.” |
Word count: 100 |
Writers stop writing. You’ve got the sequel bug. You need treatment. Let’s call you an editor, who can waggle their eyebrows as they produce a comically large syringe from their editor bag.
Before the procedure begins, you have the chance to ask your editor for some specific help. What will you ask your editor to examine?
Guest | You are editing | Your editor is |
Amelia Armande | Joshua Crisp | Claudia Treacher |
Joshua Crisp | Paul Davies | Amelia Armande |
Paul Davies | Tom McNally | Joshua Crisp |
Claudia Treacher | Amelia Armande | Tom McNally |
Tom McNally | Claudia Treacher | Paul Davies |
Now writers, you have put your sequel into the hands of an editor, and since it is the cool thing to do, you must become an editor too. Read the draft of your assigned writer. Make your edits - subtract, add, put in a whole new thing about horses, and then let it go. Your writer will use your edits to help them make a second and final draft that we’ll get to hear in just a moment.
Listeners at home, if you’re alone, give your first draft another once-over. If there’s a person around, trick them into helping you.
Five minutes to edit!
Your time starts now.
Editors, become writers once again. Return to your first draft and read the notes left by your editors. Use them as guidance to write your way towards your final draft, and an astounding sequel.
Your time to rewrite begins now.
Five minutes!
While those sequels are being conjured up, here is a listener submission. This is from the very prolific and always welcome Christopher T. Dabrowski. It's called 'The Masochists'
The Masochists
by Christopher T. Dabrowski
- Your son jumped into the tunnel, sorry,'; announced Anthael.
Elean fainted, I caught her last minute.
Entalil always had a suffering soul - he longed for the land of anguish, as we used to call it.
Unlike him, we're glad to have the nightmare behind us and had no intention of going back until the summons from the soul overseers.
Entalil was different. In that world, they call such people masochists.
The tunnel - whoever jumps in there disappears from our world to be reincarnated on Earth.
And now sometimes we visit him and sometimes sees us - he says he sees ghosts...
Happily, one of our listener submissions this time was eerily similar to Claudia Treacher's story from the previous episode, Homages II (Wringing) so I made an editorial decision to declare it to be a sequel to 'Old Medicine,' a missing link in the chain towards 'Happiness is just a warpway Away.'
The story is from Ella Brasington and is called, 'Taxus bacchanalia'
Taxus bacchanalia
by Ella Brasington
Snap, crackle, pop, squelch.
Tangle, twist and rend.
Probing breaks the hollow shell; for treasure, roots will bend.
Clang, crash, wail, knell.
Huddles of pattering feet.
Deliver us morsels, tough and lean,
all bones and teeth and meat.
Creep, scrape, climb, slurp.
Mycorrhizal delight.
For minerals are scarce to find, and caches are finite.
Breathe, stretch, reach, build
New rings for passing years.
Spread boughs cast shade for frolicking babes, and mothers to shed their tears.
Groan, flex, strain, endure
We outlive man and beast.
Abundant ruby berries brought,
Each hastens our next feast.
Now we pick our baby up from the bulrushes and raise them to be an historic prophet or Superman. We are going to read our stories!
Amelia Armande - sequelising My Proventriculus Overflows with Love by Tom McNally (play clip)
Joshua Crisp - sequelising 31 Weeks by Claudia Treacher (play clip)
Paul Davies - sequelising Telltale by Amelia Armande (play clip)
Claudia Treacher - sequelising Prospectors by Paul Davies (play clip)
Tom McNally - sequelising Meat Slave by Joshua Crisp (play clip)
Amelia Armande with I love you with all of my cephalothorax, a sequel to My Proventriculus Overflows with Love by Tom McNally
Joshua Crisp with Red VS Wade, a sequel to 31 Weeks by Claudia Treacher
Paul Davies with the defaced volume, a sequel to Telltale by Amelia Armande
Claudia Treacher with Gauges, a sequel to Prospectors by Paul Davies
Tom McNally with Metempsychosis, a sequel to Meat Slave by Joshua Crisp
Goodbye everyone! Remember to harass your elected officials where applicable.
That was 100 Words of Astounding Beauty season 2, episode 10, which was a production of Red Button Audio. The theme tune is 'Music for Jellyfish' by Bell Lungs. The story music was either generated by Computoser or made from MIDIs taken from DisKlavier world.
Give us feedback on 100words@redbuttonaudio.org or tweeting us on @RedBAudio. Our listener submissions this week were
'The Masochists' by Christopher T. Dabrowski and
'Taxus bacchanalia' by Ella Brasington
Please send us any 100 Words of Astounding Beauty you have made while listening along, either written or spoken, and let us know if you’d like them to be included in a future episode.
Red Button Audio also has a Ko-Fi, and if you'd like make our gauges waggle by adding a dollop of cash to our coffers then you may do so.
Until next we meet. In the meantime, here are some details to feed your obsession with us: Joshua Crisp is 6' 3. That’s 191 cm. Claudia Treacher has legally adopted a horse. Amelia Armande is a harvest mouse who lives on a stalk of wheat. Paul Davies can turn into a jet and a submarine, or at least it looks like a submarine if you use your imagination. Update your dossiers.