Andrew Moore's Blog, page 26

This Story Is Actually About Accidentally Closing Programs on Public Computers

On the plain of Harik-Tal-Kub, around the triple altars, ninety mages of perfected skill caused to be what never otherwise would, and upon each altar, one supreme among his brethren performed miracles. A master of magic mightier still climbed the tower built in the center by hurried hands aided by profound arts and standing on it said, "You sorcerers thirty, you enchanters, you warlocks, make them rise! The Sorcery Moon, the Enchanter's Moon, the Warlockry Moon never share the night sky but once every seven thousand years by nature, but make them tonight! Then we perform the triple magic."
Called by their arts, the three moons appeared on the horizon. From there they moved, drawn upward unwillingly to their places above the altars. The ceremony was near its culmination, the triple magic within reach.
The moons continued to the point of conjunction, bonked into one another, and shattered into a thousand times a thousand chunks, times three. The chanting and the hissing of half-living instruments ceased as the mages watched the strange rain in heaven in increasing anxiety.
"You sorcerers, you enchanters, you warlocks!" the great master at last pronounced. "If anyone asks, we were having a trade convention! Nothing strange about it! Thuoskilnak there won 'Mage of the Year!' Now let's cheese it!" The ninety and the three and the one scattered and hoped nobody would notice.Finis

Occult Science Fiction

Is the skoton an evil basic particle of electromagnetism or something else entirely? You'd better figure it out for your unhinged scifi setting, free of the bounds of rationality or convention.

Limited Imagination

We're always talking about teleportation in science fiction, the morality of dissolving people and making them somewhere else among other issues as set against how convenient it is for the story, but we've forgotten something. What if future people can just run really fast? Maybe they don't need teleportation. I hope future exercise routines are better than today's, after all.

The Spirit of the Month

It's January, and you know what that means. You have to describe a scene depicted on a door in the story you're writing. It doesn't have to be relevant to the plot, themes, or setting of the story so long as it gets the reader to imagine your characters standing there for an hour looking at it while the page tries to shove them in to see the king or whatever.

The Quintessential Fantasy Reader Experience

Waking up in the middle of the night and thinking, "I don't really know what a madrigal is. I only kinda know." It doesn't have to be "madrigal," but it often is.

Somebody Gets Eaten by a [ANIMAL] and There Are People and Such Inside

Traditionally it's a whale, going back to ya boy Lucian, but don't forget about elephants, rocs, dragons, and gods. That last one kind of happens in the Mahabharata, but that doesn't mean we can't rip it off. I like the elephant one the most aesthetically, but rocs have the most story convenience. Because of the travel, you see.

Surely Somebody's Done This Already

Fairy Mason

The Case of the Beleaguered Blackguard

The justiciar bashed through the door and entered the tavern, six men behind him and six more who waited outside at each entrance. He ignored the proprietor's objections as he surveyed the room, but not the inhabitants. Three in particular he marked out because of their strength and skill which both were obvious to him at a glance.
"I'm pressing you three to assist in the capture of this man." Saying that, he held up a proclamation of outlawry. The subject was nobody else but the blackguard Lobic. "What about it? Speak up."
The first of the three, a man of fierce looks who sat alone and intimidated any who thought to change that, grunted and said, "The blackguard Lobic. Fine. Let's hurry."
The second of the three, a man quick to smile and to put a hand on a weapon, turned from his seat at the busy bar and chuckled. "I had plans myself. The blackguard Lobic, is it? Doubt you'll ever catch him, no insult intended."
The third of the three, a man who had the air of one who has studied causes and effects, the powers of substances, and the intricacies of steel stood up from his crowded table and said, "It will be a diversion at least. I hope an instructive one. What is known of the blackguard Lobic?"
The justiciar smiled. "Arrest that false scholar. Oh, are you surprised, Lobic? Distressed? Didn't you notice? These two don't know how to say 'blackguard.' They've only seen the word. You're the one man here who's ever been called it!"
Finis

A Grave Oversight

The job we keep featuring: Assassin
The job we keep forgetting: Master of Revels

Let's Put This Sorcery Thing to Bed

More like snorecery.