Tuesday Tales 52!
Challenge #52
By entering, every contestant agrees to shamelessly promote and praise the winner on twitter.
For all discussions about this challenge use hash tag #TuesdayTales
Please give a shout out to this week’s Tuesdaytales judge:
Rosie Smith-Nazilli
@MrsNazilli
Writer with the concentration span of a goldfish – But trying – Really !! Bit of a flasher with developmental problems..
Secret Word:
Tonsorial
ADJ: of or relating to a barber or the work of a barber
(remember the story doesn’t have to literally be about a barber)
Picture: can be taken literally or figuratively 
ON WITH THE TALES!
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He entered the room unerringly. How could he tell where I was? No one could see me. The room was empty. I backed up and put my hand against a blue stained glass circle. He approached slowly. I held my breath. The minute I smelled him I would lose all sense of caution. His tonsorial creation kept falling into his eyes. I wanted to brush it back. He smiled and reached for my hand. Oops. The heat had left my handprint on the glass. I moved it away with a slight gasp. Bad idea. Desire. I reached toward him.
100 words
@lissajean7
Her little butterfly wings fluttered as the pixie hung in space a few feet away from the artist’s latest work. Red, gold, blue, black and green circles of stained glass, arranged haphazardly. Gaping holes between them all. She flitted to and fro, through the gaps between the circles. In front of a blue one, she pulled out her hairbrush, and giggled.
At dawn the artist woke, and looked in her mirror while washing her face. She couldn’t help but stare. For her hair had become a tonsorial piece of art, filled with red, gold, blue, black, green circles.
100 words.
@LurchMunster
Circles of Life
The huge room is dark paneled, but filled with gray morning light from the large windows. It is a fairly unremarkable room, except for the stained glass sculpture in one corner. Bright precision circles appear as if they were carved with a tonsorial instrument. Dante’ walks toward the sculpture and lightly brushes the surface of the piece, then gasps and goes rigid, his eyes rolling back. The group watches. In a moment, he looks up, and smiles a rather unpleasant smile.
“Do you like my work?” His voice has changed. “Each circle represents a life I took.”
100 words {including title}
@Angelique_Rider
Stained-glass bubbles, frozen as if the glass itself had floated up from the floor, divided the room. Wicked-looking tonsorial implements rested on a nearby steel counter, and through the arching windows he could see the small town below. What had he gotten himself into?
“So, uh, is Cindy here?” he asked the imposing man who had allowed him inside.
“Yes, Lucinda is still getting ready.”
“And, uh, who are you?”
“I am Leomund, her brother.”
“Oh, she didn’t tell me she had a brother,” he replied nervously.
“That’s Lucinda. I suppose she left out being a witch as well.”
100 words
@rastrohman
By arranging the room this way, or arranging himself in the room this way, the yellow circle had taken the liberty to be the first seen by anyone entering the room.
This was not a well hidden fact, and a treachery not missed by the others.
Having deliberated for weeks over who would do the honours of leading the surprise they were thoroughly pissed off that the yellow circle had so ignorantly stepped into the breech.
How should they deal with this situation? They discussed amongst themselves, they could kill him? slightly over the top perhaps.
Or they could rat him out? that of course would give away the whole surprise, they couldn’t do that! of course, they could join him, and share in the glory.
So that is what they did children, the other circles joined the yellow circle, who as it happened had only gone to that place in the room to pick up a pen lid and was very surprised to have company, but agreed that all of the circles being in view to lead the surprise was a good idea, god knows the guy needed it!
Fleet Street Bakery
By Wakefield Mahon
“I once loved a man who couldn’t love me back.”
“Aye, there’s a story I’ve heard before.”
“You’ve no idea the things I did for that man. Still he pined for the pretty thing even after she’d lost her mind.”
She sat a pie in front of me, to which I turned up my nose. “No thanks.”
Mrs. Lovett warned me, “No one likes a judge.”
Then she broke into a maniacal fit of laughter.
I judge her meat pies to be quite tonsorial, and vengeance a dish best served with a nice glass of Chianti and some fava beans.
A mad little tale of 100 words
@WakefieldMahon
Seated in gleeful anticipation, barely able to contain myself as my eyes feasted upon the minimalist set of tonsorial splendor. The recumbent chair positioned behind a glass wall of blues and reds, the play of light and shadow filtered the chilling scene. The crescendo of music as the demon barber’s blade descended caused my heart to race. An audience transfixed by blood and gore, a visceral witness to murder and revenge. A voyeuristic accomplice with pristine hands. Eyes widen and blood rushes through my veins, I am giddy as I watch the legs twitch in death.
Applauding the macabre musical.
100Words
@emyrldlady
“Sir, I have tried to be accommodating of your tonsorial obsession, but I’m not sure what else you want from me. This shaving basin is identical to the one in the movie.”
“Incompetent! I don’t want the one from the movie! I need the real thing!”
“Sir, there is no ‘real thing’, it’s fictitious.”
“Argh, explaining it to you is like describing color to a blind person! I tell you, the Golden Helmet of Mambrino exists, and in the wrong hands could upset my world domination plans.”
“Yes, Sir. Shall I watch for news reports of old men jousting windmills?”
100 words
@DavidALudwig
From the bag on the small table, Connor McKay slowly produced his tonsorial instruments. Each one had been lovingly created by his father’s father for use by the family on this, the day his son was to continue the tradition. Fergal approached the table, picked up the first instrument and held it aloft, allowing the blade to be bathed in the colours of the glass display-’I'm ready Father.’ Connor gave the signal. Bending down Fergal began.
It took but a moment to sheer the sheep to perfection-the sheep shearing trophy would stay in the McKay household for another year.
100words
Spiritual Healing
“Please have a seat,” the woman smiled, indicating a cushioned leather chair more reminiscent of the furnishings of a 19th century tonsorial parlor than of anything to be found in a spacious Soho loft.
Satisfied of her client’s comfort, she pulled over a screen, of sorts, comprised of interlocking rings of glass in various sizes and hues. Her soothing voice quieted Sondra’s concern.
“Don’t be alarmed. The silicadiscus will allow me to focus your conscious mind elsewhere while I get to the nasty work of banishing the uninvited spirit residing within you. So, shall we begin?”
Sondra nodded her consent.
1009 words @klingorengi
oops…fat-fingered my word count. Only 100. LOL
“I know what I wanna be when I grow up,” said Freddy.
“Kudos,” I said, not biting.
“A tonsil.”
“Huh???”
“TONSIL.”
“Heard you. Punchline, please.”
“I wanna open a tonsorial parlor, so I have to be a tonsil.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Tonsorial means barber. It’s a joke.”
“Hilarious.”
He stuck out his tongue, and I laughed.
Sunlight streamed in, marking a swirling rainbow divider across the floor. We sat in grinning silence, Freddy wagging his furry adolescent tail, me nursing my sore incisors. That was the real joke. Like even sunlight could ever divide friends like us.
100 words
@postupak
Time closed
Great entries everyone
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