The Blogging Alliance of the Damned: A Short Story Challenge

Blogging Alliance of the Damned


The Blogging Alliance of the Damned is back. And we’re’ ready for action.

Some very short action. Like, 200 word short-story short action.

The challenge for this week’s Alliance post was for the members to write a 200 word short-story. But, the story was supposed to be an exciting, anxiety-producing, ball-busting tale, filled with cliff-hangers and things resembling high-speed car chases.

Ok, so maybe the stories didn’t have to have that stuff exactly, but the aim of the game was to create an engaging story in 200 words or less.

A failure to comply with the word count meant certain death at the hands of the hell-demon, Gorlak. Don’t worry, the members were warned.

But, I have faith in my Alliance pals. I think we’re up for the challenge.

Don’t believe me? Don’t think we can do it? Well, you’ll just have to see for yourself. Check out these fantastic mini-stories produced by the lads and lasses in the Blogging Alliance of the Damned.




Crazy Cat Lady (Arden)

The fog surrounding her mind slowly cleared. She knew immediately that it happened again. She looked down at her bloodied hands sitting peacefully in her lap.

“No, no,” she whispered, rubbing her hands on her jeans in a futile attempt to rid them of the crimson coating. She stood and turned in a circle. The room was unrecognizable.

“Well, this is new.” She always woke up at home. Where the hell was she?

She stumbled through the house until she found the kitchen and began scrubbing her hands clean. A window above the sink overlooked fields as far as the eye could see. She let herself get lost in the view and knew that she was much farther from home than she would like to be.

A creak in the floorboards above her pulled her away. She wasn’t alone. She found a block of knives and grabbed the largest one before moving out of the kitchen. When she turned to head up the stairs, her eyes could only widen in shock. The knife dropped from her hand and clattered to the wooden floor.

What the hell was he doing there?

She turned and ran but it was already too late.



Empress of Earnestness (Cyn K)

“Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?” he demanded.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” I answered. “They said not to bring valuables.”

Since August, I had been “they.” An unremarkable year of national service had intensified once Hurricane Katrina made landfall. I trained and prepped disaster volunteers for deployment. When the influx finally slowed in November, I marked myself as available. Having sent others on before, I knew to pack light for my flight. I had no idea where I would stay in Louisiana, so I took only what I could carry. More importantly, I took nothing that I would miss if it were lost or stolen.

Yet, when I had tucked my wedding ring in the jewelry box at home two weeks earlier, I never anticipated this situation.

He nodded at my explanation, but I couldn’t read his expression because I hardly knew him. I had mentioned my husband as soon as we began working together. The thought that he believed I was being deceptive only added to my guilt. The fact was that, the more attracted I was to him, the more frequently I talked about my husband.

A week later, I agreed to marry him.



The Jester (DJ Matticus)

The arch-mage backed away from the portal, the air of his lab still vibrating with the electricity of the spell he had just unleashed, and watched as the summoned demon stepped into the world. His mind danced around the words of the banishing spell, keeping it fresh in case he needed it, but leaving enough room for other thoughts and spells. Through all the research he had done before opening the portal to the hell-demon, Gorlak’s, plain, he hadn’t been able to ascertain if he’d be able to control the beast once it had successfully made the journey.

Its eyes, pits of fire and rage set within sharp edges, studied the wizard, sized him up and then dismissed him as neither an adversary nor a peer. It respected that the human had enough knowledge and power to open the portal between the realms, but that was only because such a feat was rare for a human. In the demon’s vast experience it had seen a vast many far more powerful magics worked. The portal closed and Gorlak smiled hungrily.

The sorcerer realized his danger too late, he’d over extended himself to open the portal and had nothing left. He was doomed



Duppy Conqueror (End Kwote)

A bullet ripped through his calf just as he reached the edge of the woods. He was escaping. Escaping from a life in prison. Escaping from the confinement of iron bars.

Escaping from a crime he didn’t commit.

It seemed so close.

But now it was all so far.

He stumbled and fell to the ground. “Stop!” yelled the guards, close behind. He turned around to look, but wasted no time. He scrambled to his feet, and limped towards the trees.

Rifles cracked. The cool night air was broken by the sharp smack of whipping bullets. He tried to run, but his leg – leaking blood – couldn’t move. It drug behind him, raking leaves and dirt along the way.

He struggled. Strived. Breathing labored. Tired. He used all his strength to push himself into the woods. The flash of gun barrels erupted behind him. Bullets grazed the earth, soil flying into his face. Footsteps closed in behind him. Quickly. Rapidly.

He made one last charge. He ignored the pain. He drove himself to move. Running. Sprinting. He was escaping.


One gun-shot rung. He stopped in his tracks. And felt a trickle of blood run down his forehead.



The Axe-wielding Editor (EditMoi)

If I hadn’t hit that bump in the sidewalk where the tree roots bust out, I’d’ve never seen her. But I did and my chain popped. I hopped off the bike and I went to fix it but she caught my eye through the window. Naked. Kneeling on the table. Right away my heart about jumped outta my shirt and I bent down to fix the chain. I sorta hoped she’d be gone by the time I stood up, but no, she was still there. I messed with my handlebars but really I was watching.

Through the window, I saw her move her head slowly down until she was lying on the table, her perfect butt in the air. I could see everything, if you know what I’m saying. It wasn’t Mrs. M – that was the best part. I stood there, twisting my handlebars, staring into the place where the heart-shaped halves of not-Mrs. M’s ass joined her pussy, feeling my pants get too tight, until I saw the camera in the window. Pointing at me. Shit. I jumped on my bike and rode away.

There goes that lawn-mowing job. Sorry, Mr. M. Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.



Poetress (C.K.)

“This is a stick up!” she yelled as she pointed her pen in the face of the man across the counter from her. What small whispers echoed through the room were sucked out into a deafening silence as the patrons all swung their heads towards the woman with the fisted pen.

“Excuse me?” asked the man behind the counter, “I’m not sure I understand” The woman ground her teeth together in aggravation, jabbing the pen closer to the man’s temple, “This is a robbery.” She slid a notebook across the counter with her free hand, “Fill this with all the words you can fit in it, don’t try anything funny either! None of those lesser words, man! DO IT! NOW!” she swung around and arched her fisted pen at the other staring patrons, flinging a second notebook to the closest of these she demanded, “You too! Empty all your words into this, ALL OF YOU! Do it now!!”

As she ran out of the building with the stolen words shoved in a pack on her back, the librarian sighed, “Damn writers block. At least once a month a writer shows up here so desperate they’ll do anything for a word.”



Queen of Snark (Samara)

The Booth

She tells him to fill it up. Hands him her credit card.

His eyes are strange.

She watches him in the side view mirror. He’s moving so slowly.

No cell service on this desolate road.

He finishes. Walks to the booth, then back to her.


He’s staring at her. His eyes – ominous. Frightening.

“Ma’am, there’s a problem with your card. Please – step inside the cash booth.”

“What’s wrong?

“Not sure. We’ll have to call the company.”

“Can’t you call them?”

“I’ll need to see I.D. Please! Just come inside the booth.”

Fear pulses in her throat.

“NO, I’ll pay cash!”

“Ma’am, I can fix this. Just come to the booth.”

Terrified, she cracks the window and pushes him a fifty.

“I’ll go get your change. DON’T MOVE.”

FUCK the change. AND the credit card.

She starts up the car with a roar. And flees.

The attendant stands in his booth on the phone, breathing heavily.

An official-sounding voice on the other end asks: “What happened?”

The attendant responds, “I couldn’t get her out of the car. He had a gun and a finger to his lips. I tried, but he kept watching from the floor behind her seat.”



Master of Analogies (Cutter)

Raven glanced back to gauge how much room he had left. He guessed there were about ten feet between him and the edge of the cliff. Obviously retreat was no longer an option.

Looking forward, he saw that there were three of them left. While he was still outnumbered, that was still much better than the 10-1 advantage his enemies enjoyed at the battle’s beginning. One by one, his companions had fallen, and now there was nobody left to watch his back. Then again, considering his back was facing a precipitous drop, maybe that wasn’t such a concern. He studied his enemies’ faces as they gradually approached him. They knew they had the advantage, but after the bloodiness they just went through, they weren’t taking anything for granted.They had their swords drawn and slowly spread out to surround him. It appeared as if the battle was about to end in their favor.

Imagine their surprise when Raven pulled out his laser pistol. With three pulls of the trigger, he ended the battle, and then collapsed to his knees in relief



The Grand Inquisitor (Grayson Queen)

Robert looked at the ground, drew on his energy and calculated the best he could. Back at the Complex they had theorized about this trick. The difference between theory and actuality when it came to a lifesaving technique meant nothing. He would have to make sure that the blast was facing outward, that it was contained and he’d take the brunt of the concussion. Most of all he’d have to make sure not to pass out.

The explosion hit him in the stomach like a freight train. It threw him into the air and over the tree tops. Flying at thirty miles per hour and thirty feet up, the landing was going to be tricky. All he wanted to do was vomit. What he needed to do was target the ground and use his energy blasts slow his descent. With one hand he slowed his forward momentum and with the other his downward fall. Robert had no doubt that this was going to be painful. He hit a grassy area that was more rock than dirt. His body tumbled and rolled for several feet.


Wasn’t that awesome?! Big thanks to all the Alliance members for writing these great pieces. Job well done, and mission accomplished.

If you like what you see, make sure to stay tuned for future Alliance posts. We’re methodically taking over the interweb, so keep your eyes peeled for the work of this dynamite team.

Also, a special not-thank you goes out to DJ Matticus for writing a 201 word story. Gorlak has been contacted, and your ass is, as we humans call it, grass.

End Awesome Collaborative Alliance Kwote

49 thoughts on “The Blogging Alliance of the Damned: A Short Story Challenge

  1. These were awesome!! I turned my in, though, I swear – I even checked my email to make sure. 🙂 Of course, it was also 201 words… so, I guess I’m glad I’m off Gorlak’s radar…

  2. What the hell man. Two hundred words come out of my average sneeze, not to mention the occasional bowel movement. I can’t write anything without at least 500 words jetting out from some orifice. I give great kudos for your brevity, you legion of damned people… I still don’t know what this is all about, but that follows from most of my everyday experiences (including the above-mentioned bowel movements), so I’m not worried. I’m really not.

    I love my preambles. I think I’m really good at them. I think I am the stone-cold most excellent practitioner of preambles there ever was.

    I liked all of these, for many and various reasons. You guys are a talented bunch. But I gotta vote. I gotta express my preference. I like the ones from the Axe dude and Poetress dude, and mostly cause they got me into the story and really, if you can both spin a story AND make someone laugh in 200 words, that’s a bizarre magic being spun right there.

    1. Thanks for your comment, man. I can tell you’re pretty interested. But yes, there are a lot of talented folks in the Alliance. That’s why I thought this challenge would be sweet.

      Thanks for stopping by. Glad you enjoyed the stories

      1. Yup, there’s a talent to making a world in so few words… something I don’t got. So Red, I have to ask… what’s up man, when are we going to see something out of you?

        1. Yes, they’re too clever, these smiths of words. Trent, I am working on a post right now as a follow up to last weeks one, did you not receive notification in your reader perhaps? Anyway, plan to hit publish on my second tattoo story today sometime. Cheers

  3. Reblogged this on The Matticus Kingdom and commented:
    The Alliance of the Damned is back, and this time we’ve got a bunch of flash fiction for you to enjoy. Pop on over and see what each of the members did with their 200 words. You won’t be disappointed.

    1. I just let Gorlak do his thing. If you can find a way to fend him off, more power to you.

      But your piece was great. Even though you blatantly disregarded the rules 🙂

        1. Sneaky? I wasn’t being sneaky. I was flaunting my close personal relationship with Gorlak. Neener, neener, I can write extra words and the big bad monster won’t touch me! 😛

  4. I think I better not mention how I don’t know who Gorlak is because I get the sense he’s a nasty piece of work.
    Amazing, action-packed stories from all. Except me. I’m much too earnest for that.

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