Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Weekly Short Story Contests
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Week 266 (June 21-27). Stories. Topic: Building Blocks
This week's story is aptly called "The Lego Story" and goes like this:CHARACTERS:
Billy Snow, Lego Enthusiast
Kathryn Keener, College Student
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Legos are the building blocks to Billy's imagination.
SYNOPSIS: After missing several classes without sending the professor an email, Billy Snow is discovered by a fellow student named Kathryn Keener playing with and assembling various Lego sets in his dorm room. Kathryn is befuddled as to why a Lego obsession would interfere with Billy’s attendance, to which he tells a tearful story about how as a kid he never had time for playing and was always pressured to succeed by his hardnosed parents. Kathryn is stuck between telling a grown man to be a responsible student and telling a regressed child that it’s okay to have a colorful imagination. Can she find a middle ground before an emotional Billy ejects her from his dorm?
This is a bit darker then I normally write. So a pg-13 rating is warned. I hope you... enjoy? All comments and criticisms are welcome.Tumbling blocks
Miranda looked lovingly at her towheaded little boy. His bright blue eyes shown at the potential of his new building blocks. His childish giggle rang out as he knocked over his lopsided tower. Miranda's heart swelled, her little boy was so beautiful. Her cellphone buzzed, calling her back to the task at hand. The bills were piling up, and every call seemed to be yet another credit card company demanding money that she just didn't have. Ignoring the phone call, and her impending bankruptcy, she crouched next to her little Micah.
"Mommy has to go for a little while, you be good, okay?" She said, tears filling her eyes. Her two-year-old son gave her a wet kiss.
"Love you, Mommy!" he responded, wrapping his chubby arms around her neck. She held him close for a moment and then pried his arms lose.
"Bye bye" She firmly closed and locked the door behind her. She was scared, but not as scared as she was of losing Micah. She had no money for food, if she couldn't feed her son, they would take him away. She walked quickly, wishing for another option to present itself. In every car that passed her she hoped for a caring soul to stop and offer her help. She had a long walk ahead of her and the hot sun was already burning her fair skin. No one even gave her a second glance. She kept walking; past all of the familiar road signs, past the plethora of churches, past everything that she called home.
By the time she reached her destination, barely a sliver of the brilliant sunset was visible over the horizon. She stood on a dusty road ten miles from what she called home. Staring the object of all of her hatred. She was staring at the house in which her husband had been killed. Aggression that had been pent up for nearly two years ignited her steps. Miranda walked up the overgrown path and rang the doorbell.
The interminable torture which occurred in five seconds was hard to bear. For years Miranda had made sure to always keep moving, to never let the pain catch up with her. But in those few seconds all of the hurt and regret washed over her fanning the flames of her anger. She felt a flurry of emotions that threatened to overthrow her perfectly balanced plan. Two years ago, she had promised to never lose her temper again, and yet here in this place she was filled with more angst then even before.
The person who opened the door was but a shadow of the man she'd once known. His over grown hair hung in greasy knots over his unshaven face. His rumpled clothing exuded a stench not even befitting of a barnyard.
"Miranda?" He was shocked to see her, but that was no surprise.
"Micah," she began, refusing to let her voice quiver,"You once said that you would do anything for me, did you mean it?" She looked up at him, desperation shining in her eyes.
"You...you ruined me," he grew angrier with ever word he uttered, "After what you did; what we did?" He dropped his head, "We deserve to die."
"No!" Miranda nearly screamed. She took a deep breath, she had to calm down. After a few moments she decided to try a new tactic.
"Micah had his second birthday last week." She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
"You have a child?," he sounded disgusted, "And you name him Micah?"
"After you, I though that it was a nice gesture." she smiled bigger. It did nothing to change his grimace.
"Is he mine?" Micah asked.
"Does it matter?" He shook his head, sitting on the porch steps. The cacophony of crickets was the only noise for a few minutes.
"What do you need, Miranda?" He looked at her, sadness permeating his inquiry. Miranda sat down beside him, resting her kinky blonde curls on his shoulder.
"There is no money left." she whispered, "I can't get a job because they might find out..." she stopped certain that he understood. He stared out at the now darkened road. In that moment he decided that it was time he own up to his guilt. He would go with Miranda to the police station, tell them everything. In the morning. A slight snore escaped her lips, she had slipped into a slumber to peaceful. He situated her own the couch and headed to bed himself, making sure to lock his bedroom door.
Birds chirped merrily to the rising sun. Acting in stark contrast to the anxiousness welling up side of Micah. Miranda lay fast asleep on his couch still. Looking at her brought him back to two years past, when his life a tumbled into the meaningless existence that it was now. At first it had been innocent. He worked with her husband, they saw each other at the various parties the company hosted. They would laugh and joke together, nothing more. Then one night they kissed. Miranda blamed it on one to many drinks, but Micah knew. Soon kissing wasn't enough. They snuck to his house as often as possible. Miranda talked of divorcing her husband, he talked of marrying her. Their words meant nothing. Eventually her husband got suspicious. Followed her to his house and saw for himself what was happening, or so Micah assumed. What happened next was unthinkable, Micah had tried to erase it from his mind, but it was impossible. Miranda was screaming at her husband he was screaming back. Someone started throwing things, the other followed suite. Micah had tried to stop them, but they payed him no mind. Then Miranda had a knife. She was screaming and crying about how tired of him she was. The knife had flown through the air, finally landing in the soft flesh of his belly. Blood poured out from her husbands abdomen, and she just laughed. Micah had tried to call the police but his phone had been broken in the fray. The murderous glint in her eyes had been enough incentive for him to run. He ran, and he didn't stop until he was sure that she was gone. He had come back to a freshly cleaned house, the smell of blood still lingering. An unassuming note laid on his dining table. In it, Miranda had detailed that if he were to ever speak of this she would deal with him brutally. He never thought about denying her wishes, that is until now.
Micah went to wake up Miranda, the car was loaded with food and water, in case she was hungry, and he had stashed a gun near the steering wheel just in case. Miranda was gone. Micah looked around him, uneasiness crawling up his spine.
"Miranda" he called. There was no answer. He turned to his parked car, and there she stood, gun in hand.
"You thought that you could trick me, didn't you!" she screamed, "that you could take me away from my baby, but I won't let you!"
"You don't have to..." His words were cut short by a bullet lodging in his throat. Blood spurted out of his mouth as he fell the ground in pain. After two more shots, he was gone forever.
Miranda climbed into the car, her dry eyes searching for the keys. Finally she spotted them hanging out of Micah's still warm hands. She went to retrieve them staring for a moment at his shocked face and smile danced across her face. The drive back was pleasant. She played her favorite music loud and sang along. She smiled at every car that she passed. and she even gave a homeless man a jug of water that she found in the passenger seat.
She pulled into her driveway, excited to see her baby again. Bounding through the door she found a disaster waiting. Broken glass strewn across the floor. He little boy lay in the middle of it crying. Anger welled in her belly. She started yelling at him. How dare he destroy her house. He cried louder, screaming just as loud as her. It made her even angrier. Her hand found its way to one of his brightly colored building blocks. She had to make him be quiet. His cries stopped short, when she hit him.
Yay, my suggestion was used!Now to think of a story...
Nadia wrote: "This is a bit darker then I normally write. So a pg-13 rating is warned. I hope you... enjoy?Tumbling blocks
Miranda looked lovingly at her towheaded little boy. His bright blue eyes show..."
As a wise man once said, Sweet Christmas! Miranda needs some counselling, methinks! She really seems to like causing people harm over some oft times trivial things. Way to embrace your inner nutcase! I enjoyed this.
Nadia wrote: "This is a bit darker then I normally write. So a pg-13 rating is warned. I hope you... enjoy?Tumbling blocks
Miranda looked lovingly at her towheaded little boy. His bright blue eyes show..."
Nadia this is very dark. ( and a twist ending sort of) I think I knew it was coming but couldn't bring myself to think of it until it happened! your story was great. I like the abrupt ending too!
Apologies if the science is wrong – unlike Professor Gurudeva Mahajan, I’m not a scientist...Title : TAG, You’re It (Part 1)
Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Sci-Fi
Word Count : 2617
Rating : PG13 For Sexual Content And Mild Language
Professor Gurudeva Mahajan had spent decades trying to recreate the human genome, and all of his peers thought he was crazy to even try. His experiments had led to nothing but abject failure, with none of his creations ever reaching term, and many of them just disintegrating in their test tubes before they could even start to develop.
But those decades had not been spent in vain, not in Professor Mahajan’s eyes, for in his thirty-eighth years of experimentation, he had finally found success when, after nine months of careful nurturing, he was rewarded with a healthy, almost human little girl.
He named her Aja, which meant unborn in his native tongue. An appropriate name as she had indeed not been born but instead created in a laboratory, though the rest of the scientific community chose to call her Tag, a name which stuck with her throughout her life, though Mahajan always called her Aja. Tag was a much more scientific name as, of the four nucleobases of DNA, she only possessed three; thymine, adenine, and guanine, and did not possess cytosine. Professor Mahajan had found that the pairing of cytosine and guanine had led to instabilities in the embryos development and more often than not the cytosine strand had mutated into uracil, a side effect which he had not been able to correct. So, by excluding cytosine from the cell structures and replacing it with a double dose of thymine, he had been able to bypass this issue and eventually reproduce a viable embryo, thereby completely recreating the very building blocks of creation.
This difference made Aja unique as far as humanity was concerned, and that unique quality may well have spelled her downfall if it hadn’t been for one tiny little thing...
She was amazing.
Even at a young age, everyone who came into contact with her was entranced by her personality and enthralled by her looks. She was a beautiful child who learned to speak full sentences in her first six months, and even more impressive had been able to walk after less than six weeks out of her incubator. Professor Mahajan could not have been prouder of his work.
Or of his daughter, as he preferred to call her.
Professor Mahajan encouraged Aja to interact with children of her own age, but by the time she was two years old she had already far surpassed them in terms of maturity and knowledge. No one in the scientific community could explain quite why she was so intelligent, but Mahajan was just happy that her intelligence had come with an empathy for others that remained childlike throughout her youth.
At the tender age of six, Aja was intelligent enough to attend university, having already surpassed her peers and those more than a decade her senior. For most children it would have looked strange for a six year old to be attending university, but Aja had grown tall in her short time, and although she still had a child’s physique and a child’s biology, she had the height of a slightly below average teenager. Though flat chested and yet to go through puberty, this simply made her appear lithe and athletic to her peers, with many of her tutors encouraging her to take part in athletic events such as gymnastics and long distance running. Obviously, being the prodigy that she was, she excelled in every sport she tried.
And obviously, being as beautiful and athletic as she was, she drew attention from those that didn’t understand just how young she truly was.
A boy named Troy Templeton set his sights on Aja. As the captain of the University football team, and with Aja having used her gymnastic abilities to rise to the top of the cheerleading squad amongst other more competitive groups, their coupling should have been as natural as anything. But Troy was eighteen, and in spite of appearances Aja was still only six years old. Professor Mahajan, who Aja thought of as a father, warned her against getting involved with boys.
“They only want one thing,” he told her as he puffed on a cigarette.
“And what thing is that, father?” Aja asked innocently.
“The thing you keep private,” Professor Mahajan told her, gesturing with his cigarette at her genital area, “Your private place that is not ready for anyone to visit yet.”
Aja looked confused, “From what I have read it is natural for boys at the university to want such things.”
“But you are so much younger than them,” Professor Mahajan warned her, “You must not allow any boy to convince you otherwise. You may be tall for your age, and you may be mature enough to understand more things than any of them ever will, but you are not ready for a sexual relationship.”
“I understand, father,” Aja said, though deep down she did not.
Privately she had read an awful lot about sex and the things it entailed, and she found it more fascinating than anything else she had ever studied in her short life. She had easily bypassed her father’s security settings on her computer and had discovered all sorts of videos and picture galleries that showed her the wonders of sexual congress. People would dress up in costume, only to remove those costumes and perform what her father would have called lewd acts upon each other.
When she watched these videos, she found it hard to turn away.
So, in spite of all of Professor Mahajan’s warnings, when Troy asked Aja out on a date, she happily accepted.
Their first date started off innocently enough, with Troy taking her to a movie and then a meal afterwards. They talked about university life, and what they thought of the movie, and what they thought of their meal, but soon the evening was drawing to an end.
“You look beautiful tonight, Tag,” Troy said, using the nickname that everyone but her father used.
“Thank you,” Aja blushed, “and you look very handsome.”
“My parents won’t be home until late,” Troy told Aja, “would you like to come back to my place for a while?”
Aja smiled, “I would like that very much.”
The two of them headed back to Troy’s place, and it wasn’t long before they were kissing on the sofa in his living room.
“Wow!” Aja smiled between kisses, “I’ve never kissed anyone before. I think you are very good.”
“I’ve never had any complaints,” Troy continued to kiss her as he reached his hand between her legs.
Aja flinched as Troy’s fingers pushed her panties aside, “I don’t think I’m ready just yet,” Aja said, scooching away from Troy’s probing hands.
“Of course you are,” Troy moved closer, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, “You even shaved.”
“I haven’t,” Aja said, “I don’t have hair... down there yet.”
Troy leaned closer to her, “All the better,” he said, kissing Aja harder as he lowered his trousers.
Aja didn’t know what to do. All the reading and movie watching in the world hadn’t prepared her for this. She wasn’t ready, but Troy was forcing himself on her. In desperation she sunk her teeth into his lip in the hope of stopping him.
“Ouch!” Troy yelled, backing away from Aja, “You don’t have to be so rough.”
“I asked you to stop,” said Aja, pulling her legs up to her chin ina defensive stance.
“That’s just part of the game,” said Troy, moving back towards her and forcing his mouth onto hers.
Aja bit him again, this time much harder. Troy screamed as Aja’s teeth sunk deep into his lip, this time separating flesh from flesh.
Troy screamed, pulling away from Aja as he frantically clutched at his bottom lip that was no longer there.
“You crazy bitch!” Troy yelled, “What the hell have you done?”
“I asked you to stop,” Aja replied, tears welling in her eyes, “You wouldn’t listen. I begged you.”
As Troy writhed in agony, clutching at the missing part of his face, his parents arrived through the front door.
“What the hell is going on?” they screamed, seeing the two blood soaked children sitting on teh sofa.
“This crazy monster bit my lip off!” Troy sobbed, nursing his face which was dripping with blood.
Aja looked at the parents, her own mouth covered in Troy’s blood and bits of his lip still present in her mouth.
“He wouldn’t stop,” she sobbed, “I begged him, but he wouldn’t-”
“You’re that genetic experiment, aren’t you?” Troy’s father observed, “I knew having a gene freak at the university would be a mistake.”
“You mutilated our boy, you beast!” Troy’s mother cried as she comforted her disfigured son, “Michael, call the police.”
Michael picked up the phone and dialled for the police, “Hello?” he began, before Aja knocked the phone from his hands.
“Please, don’t call the police,” she sobbed, clutching at Michael’s arm, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“Get off of me,” Michael screamed, writhing in agony as Aja clutched his arm ever harder, “You’re hurting me.”
“Please, just don’t call the police,” she begged, squeezing his arm until blood started to soak through his shirt. Then there was a cracking sound as his ulna and radius snapped under the pressure. Michael screamed.
“Get off of him!” Troy’s mother yelled, jumping up from the sofa and rushing at the girl.
“Keep away, Deborah!” Michael weakly warned. Aja turned to Deborah and swung her free arm into her face. There was a cracking noise as Deborah’s head swung unnaturally on her neck, and she collapsed dead to the ground.
“Mum!” Troy screamed, “What did you do? What did you do!!”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Aja, still gripping Michael’s arm which was starting look like a deflated balloon, “She came at me.”
Troy ran from the room in tears, and Aja turned to his father, “Why didn’t you just leave me alone when I asked?” This didn’t have to happen.”
Troy returned, wielding a handgun he’d retrieved from his father’s desk, “Let go of him, you... you thing!” he sobbed, his hands shaking as he pointed the gun at Aja.
“Put down the gun, son,” Michael warned his boy as the shock of his broken arm started to make him feel woozy, “Just... put it down.”
“She killed mum!” Troy wept, slipping his finger into the trigger guard, “And she’s hurt you, dad.”
“Don’t do this, son,” Michael said weakly, “Just please, put the gun down.”
Everything happened very quickly then. Troy pulled the trigger, and defensively Aja swung Michael in front of her. The bullet tore into the back of Michael’s head, showering Aja’s face with fragments of skull and brain tissue. She screamed as Michael’s dead body collapsed on top of her and she fell to the ground.
Troy dropped the gun to the ground as Aja pushed Michael off of her and clambered to her feet, and then the front door burst open. The line to the police had stayed open, and they’d managed to trace the call to Troy’s address.
“Don’t move!” the first police officer through the door warned.
“She killed them all!” Troy coughed, holding his hands in the air as blood continued to trickled down his chin, “She killed my mum, and shot my dad!”
“I didn’t shoot him,” Aja said, “This was all a terrible mistake. I asked them to leave me alone.”
Aja sobbed as another police officer snapped cuffs on her and dragged her out to the waiting car, “You can explain what happened at the station,” she said, guiding Aja into the car and driving away.
(continued...)
Title : TAG, You’re It (Part 2)Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Sci-Fi
Word Count : 2617
Rating : PG13 For Sexual Content And Mild Language
When Professor Mahajan arrived at the station, he found Aja locked up in a cell on her own.
“You can’t arrest her,” he told the police, “She’s only six years old.”
“Nice try, grandpa,” the officer on duty laughed, “but that ain’t no six year old.”
“What happened?” Professor Mahajan asked Aja through the bars.
“He tried to, to...” she sniffed, “I asked him to stop.”
“Did he rape you?” Professor Mahajan asked, not wanting to hear the answer.
Aja shook her head, “I stopped him before he could.”
Professor Mahajan breathed a sigh of relief.
“The boy is telling a different story,” the duty officer told Professor Mahajan, “and from what I heard about the crime scene, it looks like she massacred them.”
“She doesn’t understand how strong she is,” Professor Mahajan tried to explain, “she’s six years old and he tried to rape her!”
“I don’t think that story’s going to wash,” the duty officer shrugged, “Plus the boy’s taken pretty sick.”
“Sick?” Professor Mahajan looked confused, “What’s that got to do with Aja?”
“He says she made him sick,” the duty officer said, “You should see his face, it’s a mess where she bit his lip off. And now he’s got lesions spreading out from the wound. He’s a mess. She better not be infectious – she bit me when she came in here – look!”
The officer held up a discoloured finger. Professor Mahajan widened his eyes in fear.
Mahajan ran to the hospital where Troy had been admitted and raced to his recovery room. He was on the cancer ward, and the professor suspected he knew why.
Aja had been designed with a double thymine layer in her DNA, and in nature this could sometimes result in thymine dimmers. In many cases these dimmers could lead to melanomas, and if Troy was exhibiting these symptoms it could only mean one thing...
Aja was infectious.
When he saw Troy, he couldn’t believe how quickly the infection had spread. Ninety per cent of his body was covered in lesions, his skin bubbling like it was being heated in an oven. Troy was unconscious but stable, plugged into life support to keep him alive, but Mahajan didn’t know how long that would last.
If Aja was infectious, she had to be isolated from other people before the infection spread. If this mutated strain was catching, then the officer and hospital staff that had come into contact with Troy, or even with Aja’s blood or saliva, would now be just as infectious. Mahajan knew how these sort of infections worked; if left unchecked, it was only a matter of time before the whole town was infected, and it wouldn’t be long before it spread further afield.
“I’m sorry,” Mahajan said, turning up the oxygen in Troy’s tank then backing out of the room. The oxygen hissed as it filled the room, and Mahajan pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and opened them, retrieving the lighter he kept inside.
The only way to stop the infection was to burn those infected, and he had to start somewhere...
On his journey back to the police station Mahajan picked up a canister of petrol and marched through the station liked he owned the place.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” an officer asked as Mahajan walked into the holding cells. He answered by swinging the canister into his face and knocking him unconscious to the ground.
As he approached the cells, Aja ran to the bars and reached through them for him, “Father,” she sobbed, “Have you come to set me free?”
“In a way, my beautiful girl,” he told her, splashing the petrol on her face.
“What are you doing?” she screamed, “Father, what are you doing?”
“I wish it didn’t have to end this way,” Professor Mahajan wept, pouring the remaining petrol on himself and holding out his lighter, “but I can’t let my experimentations with the building blocks of life be the death of what God once created.”
And he flicked the flint on his lighter one final time...
Well, my mind wanted to go somewhere dark with this, as usual. Images of an ancient warrior showing his kids how to make a playhouse made of skulls. Werewolves using human finger bones as Lincoln Logs. That sort of thing. And then I thought, "Why not just use building blocks?" So here's the story which is only partly true. Partly. Comments are welcome!
Title: Damn You, Pooh!
Word Count: 1103
I turned the pages slowly, savoring the lovely artwork. Shoujo manga was my brand new obsession and this series was proving to be a spectacular read. What characters! What a plot! I sat down and started from the beginning and was soon so immersed in the book’s world that I lost track of time.
I came to myself quite suddenly, my head shooting up, my eyes finding the oversized clock on the mantle. Holy crap! I’d been sitting there for over two hours! I immediately placed my bookmark and shot out of the chair. Moving down the hall quickly but on silent tiptoe, I strained my ears for any noise coming from the back room.
Kassidy wasn’t quite two years old yet and her normal nap time was around an hour and a half. She should be up by now. The child was extremely social; I could never just leave her alone in her room to play. She had to be around people. Someone always had to entertain her. Anyone that came to visit was her new playmate. She would take your hand in her own tiny one and drag you to the toy box, showing you exactly what she wanted, quick to voice the proper way to play with said toys. That would be changing pretty soon when her younger sister was born. The little queen would have to learn that she couldn’t monopolize everyone’s time anymore. She’d have to learn to share more than just toys.
I was becoming suspicious as I crept down the hall. She never lingered after nap time. Kassidy always came right out to find me, usually demanding a drink and pointing to her sopping diaper. We were in the beginning stages of potty training and she was doing very well during the day. Nap time and nights, not so much yet.
I thought I heard her little voice through the door. Singing or humming. A sweet, high pitched little noise that made my mommy heart melt. I turned the doorknob ever so gently, nudging the door open to peep at her.
But mommy’s heart wasn’t melting this time. More like catching on fire.
Apparently, while she was sleeping, Kassidy had gone “stinky”. And apparently when she woke up and realized this, she decided that instead of coming to get me, she would play a game. Apparently, the game was Art Class.
One sweep of my eyes saw it all. Stinky all over the toddler bed: sheets, pillowcase, railings. Stinky on the two walls, that met in a corner where the bed was. She had to have been standing on the bed for some of this because those brown handprints were pretty damn high for short stack there to reach alone. A few spots of stinky were ground into the carpet. And standing amidst all of this, very close to the bed, was the little queen herself, wearing nothing but a diaper and stinky from head to toe.
At the gasp that escaped my lips, she looked up from rubbing more of the vile excrement all over her belly. Her eyes widened. She gave me the legendary “Oh shit!” look that my mother passed down to me and her mother before her. (She got the troublemaking genes pretty honestly.) Then, at the shocked look on my face, and realizing that she was caught red-handed, or more like brown-handed, she immediately began to cry and shake her hands while sobbing “Nasty! Nasty!”
Funny, it wasn’t nasty two seconds ago when you were using it as finger paint to decorate your room, I thought.
As she shook her hands in her sudden disgust, fecal matter was being flung across the room, making the mess I was going to have to clean up alone all the worse. I could already picture my very pregnant self bent over, scrubbing at that damnable carpet. “No, no!” I cried, making a dash for her. She was only about six steps away from me at this point and my full attention was on her and the future-fun-for-me mess. So of course I didn’t see the building blocks on the floor between us.
I believe she got them for her first birthday. Or maybe her first Christmas. Honestly, it was so long ago now that I can’t properly remember but I know that we loved playing with them. They had the classic Winnie the Pooh characters from the books drawn on them as well as letters of the alphabet and little objects that represented each letter. The letter T had a cute little top on one side and Tigger on the other. Letter H had a honey pot. You get the idea.
When she was younger the game was always Knock Over which meant that I would build a tower or house or whatever I fancied and she’d run over and Godzilla that thing. Then Kassidy would clap her little hands together, giggle and the smile that lit up those fat cheeks would as usual, melt my mommy heart. As she was getting older, she started making houses and castles with me and we would sit in the middle of her room and build and rebuild until she grew bored and wanted a new game.
I was always good about picking up her room after play time and I’d already started training her to help me. Some days were better than others. It seems like this day Mommy had been forgetful. Perhaps in my rush to read my new manga, I’d forgotten about them or just overlooked them. At any rate, as I raced over to grab her by the stinky covered wrists, I stepped on a bunch of them.
Small, innocent wooden blocks are just as bad as Legos when stepped on. Those sharp corners are no joke. It hit them with both feet and cried out, my legs jumping to get away from them before I caught my balance. Anyone who has been pregnant before can tell you; losing your balance is a real bitch. Your body constantly changing makes it nigh impossible to get used to your own proportions. I knew I was going down. I twisted my hips so that I wouldn’t fall on little Kassidy. I’d probably knock her out if I fell on her like this. So now I was facing the bed.
As I was going down, the upper half of my body definitely safe since it would land on the mattress, I saw the split second before I hit exactly where my face would touch.
Winnie the Pooh was sending me face first into some real poo.
Nadia wrote: "This is a bit darker then I normally write. So a pg-13 rating is warned. I hope you... enjoy?Tumbling blocks
Miranda looked lovingly at her towheaded little boy. His bright blue eyes show..."
Oh wow! I read this after I posted mine and, damn! That was a tragic, crazy story. I love it.
Edward wrote: "Title : TAG, You’re It (Part 2)Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Sci-Fi
Word Count : 2617
Rating : PG13 For Sexual Content And Mild Language
When Professor Mahajan arrived at the station, he found A..."
Another powerful and tragic story. It seems everyone is going for something rather dark this week while I'm going for humor for once!
I love the way you tell this, with the scientific details. Whether it's accurate or not, for those of us who aren't scientists, it sounds pretty plausible.
Good story!
Marie wrote: "Another powerful and tragic story. It seems everyone is going for something rather dark this week while I'm going for humor for once!I love the way you tell this, with the scientific details. Whether it's accurate or not, for those of us who aren't scientists, it sounds pretty plausible.
Good story!"
Thanks Marie - perhaps I'll go back to comedy next week after two weeks of drama! :-)
Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "Another powerful and tragic story. It seems everyone is going for something rather dark this week while I'm going for humor for once!I love the way you tell this, with the scientific..."
Hey, if drama is what's working for you for now, keep with it! I'm not knocking it, I'm enjoying it. I really enjoy reading everyone's stories up here, no matter the genre.
Marie wrote: "Hey, if drama is what's working for you for now, keep with it! I'm not knocking it, I'm enjoying it. I really enjoy reading everyone's stories up here, no matter the genre."I know you weren't knocking it, I just like comedy more. And all that drama is so draining! Argh! :D
BTW, scientific details courtesy of Wikipedia! So probably not that accurate. :D
Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "Hey, if drama is what's working for you for now, keep with it! I'm not knocking it, I'm enjoying it. I really enjoy reading everyone's stories up here, no matter the genre."I know y..."
Oh Wiki, you silly website you. Whoever updates their anime and J-rock articles are obviously not fans of either.
Yes, too much drama can be draining. Exactly why I wanted to take a break this week. I feel like everything I post up here is dark and cringe-worthy. Funnily enough, that isn't what I write all the time.
Marie wrote: "Yes, too much drama can be draining. Exactly why I wanted to take a break this week. I feel like everything I post up here is dark and cringe-worthy. Funnily enough, that isn't what I write all the time."I do like comedy, but I also like killing my characters off! :D
Edward wrote: I have to agree with you on that one!
Marie wrote: "Edward wrote: I have to agree with you on that one!"
I often combine the two. :D
Thanks for the feedback Marie and Edward. I've never really written this sort of style, maybe I should keep with it.
My story should come soon. i've allready written (and took my time if you were wondering ) It should be up i a matter of days.
Title: A Straight LineWord Count: 1236
Peter held his mallet loosely and almost dropped it. He straightened his back and wiped the sweat from his brow, nearly knocking himself out in the process.
“All I’m saying,” he said, “is that it would be nice to try something else for a bit.”
John stared at him and shook his head, the long tangles of white hair falling out of place. White bits of dust danced down from his collar.
“No no no,” John said. “You think it would be nice to try something else for a bit. You do not know. You think.”
“All I mean,” said Peter, “is that we’ve been doing this for two years already. Cut the stone, make it fit. Make it strong for his lordship. Make it clean for his lordship. First one wall, and then the next. Cut, cut, cut; chip, chip, chip; build, build, build.”
With great care, John guided his chisel along a straight line. “You know,” he said, “there are people who spend all day cleaning out the toilets. I bet they’d be happy to have an apprentice. You could spend the next two years shoveling--”
“I get it, I get it!” Peter waved his mallet in exasperation. “All I’m saying is, is, why can’t I try making something else, you see? Here we are building a grand castle, and all I’ve done is make some blocks. For two years, I’ve been making blocks.”
“And you haven’t even done that well,” said John.
“Not my point. I’m getting better, and you can’t pretend I’m not. My point is, see, why can’t I learn something less square? Maybe I could try an arch. Or maybe I could start on a gargoyle, or a horse, or something with a little more curve.”
John slowly put down his chisel and mallet. He wiped his hands on his apron, but the stone dust stayed put in the deep creases of skin. He walked over to Peter and put a hand on his mallet.
“You’re going to hurt someone. And I don’t just mean with that mallet.” John took the mallet and placed it aside. “I have a story to tell you, and I want you to listen. I know you prefer not to listen, but today you don’t have a choice.”
Peter said on the edge of a large stone block, his eyebrows at full mast. “I’m listening.”
John began, “When I was your age, I was quite talented. I wasn’t like you. The stones sang to me as I worked. They told me their strengths and weaknesses and showed me their beauty while they were still rough. I didn’t have to think about what I was making, I simply made it.”
“Oh, I’m sure those blocks were quite beautiful,” Peter interrupted. “Such nice angles, such straight lines. You must’ve been very popular.”
John smacked him, lightly. “As I said, I wasn’t like you. I didn’t just cut blocks. I started that way, sure enough. But I did much, much more. I carved flowers and trees from the stone. I made fountains and doorways and pillars and statues. They said I was gifted. They said I was a wonder to behold. My workshop was more popular than the theater most nights.
One day I was given a magnificent block of marble. I had never seen a more perfect piece of stone, and I had seen a lot of stone. I knew instantly that this one was special. It was too special to be worked on in the public eye. So late one night, I closed up my shop and spent some time with this beauty. I looked at it from every side. I ran my hand over the cool, smooth surface, getting to know every piece of it. Finally, I picked up my mallet and chisel, and I began working.
I worked all night. I didn’t stop to look at what I had already done, I just kept moving forward. My eyes were focused on my hands and nothing else. I cut away and smoothed and detailed faster than I had ever thought possible. When the sun rose the next morning, I was finished, but my eyes were too heavy to examine my work. I fell asleep standing up.
I slept for most of the day, and awoke just as the sun was setting. A few rays of light still lingered in my workshop. They landed on the marble and glowed. And I realized I was witnessing a miracle.”
Peter frowned. “A miracle? I’m sure you did a great job, but that’s a little much.”
John studied his hands. “She was a miracle,” he said, and then was silent.
After a minute, Peter cleared his throat. “Who was...she?”
“She was an angel. She was a goddess. She was the definition of beauty, captured in stone. I had never seen anyone like her. There was no possibility that I was her creator; if anything I was her midwife, bringing her into this world. But I was also her greatest admirer, her slave.”
“Ah yes, John the statue slave. I’ve heard that one,” said Peter.
John glared at him. “I doubt you will ever understand. I didn’t even understand. And I was not prepared for the second miracle.”
Peter grinned. “Watch out for those miracles, they come in pairs.”
“The second miracle happened like this. As I was cleaning the dust from the statue, she spoke.”
“Well, well. She speaks! And what did she say?” asked Peter.
“I can still remember exactly what she said. She said, ‘Stop, that tickles!’ and, ‘Could I please get some clothes?’”
Peter clapped his hands. “John, you made yourself a woman! Bravo. What a business that could be. So what happened to her?”
John placed his hands on his knees and hung his head. “I adored her, but I had a problem. You see at the time I was seeing Rachel Cooper, and we were beginning to really like each other. I didn’t know what to do. I began spending most of my time at the workshop. I spent all that I had on fine bracelets and dresses, outfits appropriate for the exquisite piece of art made living by my hand. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, even when I was with Rachel.”
Peter’s face formed a rare picture of solemnity. “And did she think of you?”
“No,” John replied. “She didn’t. She was cold. Built of stone, through and through. But it didn’t change things. The more she ignored me, the more I sought her favor. Every slight was a chance to prove myself. I had to have her; she was mine. I had made the perfect woman and I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t grateful.”
“And Rachel?” Peter asked.
“I realized my life was being destroyed by this stone woman. Or rather, I was destroying my life for this woman, this statue, this unchanging, unhuman image I had built. I knew that if I was ever to save myself, if I was ever to give Rachel the love she deserved, the marble miracle would have to be destroyed.”
They sat in silence. The question hung in the air before it was asked.
“Did you?” Peter said quietly.
John looked straight into Peter’s eyes. He stood up and turned around. He picked up his mallet, he picked up his hammer. He continued to cut a straight, perfect line.
Marie wrote: "Well, my mind wanted to go somewhere dark with this, as usual. Images of an ancient warrior showing his kids how to make a playhouse made of skulls. Werewolves using human finger bones as Lincoln L..."Very funny! My boy has never done anything quite so bad, but this reminded me of him, "Oh no, Aidan go poohs! Yuck!" Only a parent could have written this. Good job.
Zach wrote: "Title: A Straight LineWord Count: 1236
Peter held his mallet loosely and almost dropped it. He straightened his back and wiped the sweat from his brow, nearly knocking himself out in the process...."
Funny stuff. It reminded my of Mannequin! :D
Zach wrote: "Title: A Straight LineWord Count: 1236
Peter held his mallet loosely and almost dropped it. He straightened his back and wiped the sweat from his brow, nearly knocking himself out in the process...."
This story leaves me feeling pretty sad for poor John. I do hope he destroyed her. This is based on an old legend or something, isn't it? It sounds pretty familiar...
Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "Well, my mind wanted to go somewhere dark with this, as usual. Images of an ancient warrior showing his kids how to make a playhouse made of skulls. Werewolves using human finger bone..."We have a lot of "stinky" stories in this family what with 4 kids. I don't know if that's normal or not but the poo certainly flies around here.
I'm living in a barnyard!
Marie wrote: "This story leaves me feeling pretty sad for poor John. I do hope he destroyed her. This is based on an old legend or something, isn't it? It sounds pretty familiar..."Correct me if I'm wrong, Zach, but is it Pygmalion?
While I was writing mine, I thought it was going to turn into that movie Species! :D
Yes, the story is similar to Pygmalion in that a sculptor falls in love with his statue. Didn't even realize that until you brought it up! I guess the old stories don't die.
Nadia wrote: "Thanks for the feedback Marie and Edward. I've never really written this sort of style, maybe I should keep with it."You do it very well!
Looks like I've got a lot of reading and critiquing to catch up on. I'll get to that in due time. Until then...AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: The Lego Story
GENRE: Educational Drama
WORD COUNT: 1,541
RATING: PG for language
When Billy Snow refused to show up to his General Science college class, it was considered a sick day. When he refused to show for five days straight without giving the teacher any notification whatsoever, it became the ultimate educational sin. The teacher had the mind to give Mr. Snow a failing grade for the quarter if he continued to hide in the shadows. A fellow student, the lovely brunette Kathryn Keener, volunteered to check on him, but was she really just staying his proverbial execution?
For the remainder of his college career, Billy Snow would stay at The Fox Inn, which was the clever name given to a rather peaceful and woodsy senior dormitory. Kathryn walked up the dirt trail whistling to herself and soaking in all of the features of this beautiful forest. She smiled at the squirrels running by. She even took a picture of a lost deer on her smart phone. She could enjoy the view all she wanted, but she hadn’t lost sight of why she was here in the first place. She strolled up to dorm number A2 and knocked gently on the door.
“Anybody home?” Kathryn Keener called out in her lovely voice. She knocked a second time and gently said, “Hello?” in a sing-songy manner. There was still no answer. She knocked a little harder the third time and got results. The front door creaked open as if it had been unlocked the entire time. This was technically breaking and entering, but Kathryn shrugged her slim shoulders and moseyed inside anyways.
“Billy, are you home? It’s Kathryn from General Science. Everybody’s wondering where you are.” The dorm room she explored seemed to be empty of people, but not of filth. There were soda cans and pizza boxes strewn across the living room and kitchen. The smell wasn’t any more pleasant; rotten pizza and fermenting soda rarely was. Kathryn held her nose and scrunched her face as she skipped toward what should have been Billy Snow’s bedroom.
She knocked on the door and creaked it open at the same time. In a whispery voice filled with awe, she said, “Wow!” prolonged period of time. Billy Snow’s dorm room was covered from shelf to shelf, dresser to dresser, and computer desk to floor with various Lego sets. He had an ogre with a spiked hammer, an ultra-long pirate ship, an even longer train, a jumbo jet that was dangling from the ceiling fan, some sci-fi monsters and Bionicles, if it looked like it came from a colorful imagination, there was probably a Lego set of it lying dormant in this room.
Kathryn tiptoed inside the bedroom and looked around at this childlike paradise with wide starry eyes. And then once she found herself in the dead center, the bedroom door closed behind her with a loud thud. She turned around and gasped with her heart pounding in her chest, but was relieved to see it was just Billy wearing black Final Fantasy pajamas.
Relieved, Kathryn held her hand to her chest and breathed out, “Jesus Christ, you scared me! Where’ve you been the past few days, Billy? The professor’s worried about you. Hell, the entire class is worried about you.”
With a dull expression on his face and a flat affect voice, Billy said, “Worried? You know who else is worried about me, Kathryn? My mom and dad. But they’re not worried about my hopes and dreams, no, no, no. They’re worried about whether or not I’ll grow up to be their perfect little scientist!” That last word was accented with sudden anger, which caused Kathryn to jump out of her sandals.
“Listen, Billy, I know you’re having a hard time getting along with your parents, but…”
“Of course you know, because I just told you!” the anger in Billy’s voice was becoming more apparent with every word. “If you’d actually take the time to sit down and talk with me, you’ll understand why I choose to play with Legos instead of attend my expensive college classes. If you want to have it, have it then.”
He picked up his Emmet Brickowski digital clock off of the dresser and said, “You see this guy right here? The guy with the goofy grin on his face? He may be the stupidest Lego man to ever come out of the franchise, but unlike the professors who work here along with my parents, Emmet doesn’t judge.” He put down Emmet and picked up a Lego scorpion. “This scorpion doesn’t judge either.”
He kept picking up various toys and claiming they didn’t judge him until Kathryn cut him off with a clearing of her throat. She said, “Despite your parents giving you a rough childhood, it doesn’t mean you can be a child now that you’re going to college. As a college student, you have certain obligations and though they may seem cruel and unusual, they do include going to class every day and at least attempting to get good grades.”
Billy gave a sarcastic grin and said, “Yeah? And then what? Is it okay to be a kid again once college is over? Or will I spend the rest of my life paying off a debt that I wasn’t responsible for in the first place? Did I mention that I never wanted to be a science major in the first place? It was my mom and dad’s idea. They don’t care about my passion for Legos. They just care about making sure I have a good paying job despite the fact that I goddamn hate science! So that’s what life is about, huh? Feeding the machine? Well, when’s the machine going to feed me?! A paycheck and a white picket fence don‘t equal happiness!”
“Look, damn it!” Kathryn started to get pissy now. She said, “I didn’t come all the way out here to listen to a lecture on the pros and cons of society! I get it! The world’s not a fair place and the authority figures in your life are even less fair! But you know what? Unless you’ve got a solution that doesn’t include wasting your parents’ money and wasting the professors’ time, I suggest you just cowboy up and get shit done!”
“Well, you know I’d like to, Kathryn, but the only shit I see around here is you, sweetheart! You’ve given me more bullshit in just a few minutes than my parents have in the entire time they’ve raised me! If you want to bah with the rest of the sheep, then God bless, but don’t try to get me to do the same thing!”
“Goddamn it, Billy!” yelled Kathryn as she picked a Lego alligator off the ground and chucked it at his face, banging him on the bridge of the nose. The man-child dropped to his knees clutching his nose and screaming in a whiny voice.
When he saw the remains of his now shattered Lego alligator, however, the whining stopped and the crying began. Tears were slowly forming in his eyes. His lips were quivering. His hands were shaking. “You bitch,” he said in a low tone. Kathryn realized what she did and tried to apologize, but Billy cut her off with an even louder version of, “You bitch!” He had no further threats for Kathryn, just a waterfall of tears for his broken toy.
Kathryn Keener had no idea what came over her when she threw that alligator. She also had no idea that nonconformity meant so much to this guy. Instead of belittling him like so many people before had probably done, Kathryn wanted to help Billy Snow. She looked around for any prop she could use and found a Lego teddy bear.
She formed a cute smile on her face and brought the Lego bear over to the sobbing Billy. In a cartoonish voice, she made the bear say, “Cheer up, big guy! You still have me to play with!”
Instead of sobbing some more, Billy looked up at Kathryn with a confused look on his face and said, “What the hell are you doing?!”
“Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve played with toys, give me a break,” said Kathryn, using her normal voice this time. She placed her hand on Billy’s thick shoulder and said, “I’m sorry. I really am. I think I know how I can make it up to you. Do you still have the instruction manual for this alligator?”
Billy sucked up a huge snot bubble through is nose and said, “Yes!”
“What if the two of us spent some time and put your green friend back together again? Don’t you think that’d be cool? And then afterwards, we can have a little Lego adventure together.”
“What about the professor and all the other students? Didn’t you say they were worried about me?”
“I’m sure they can wait a few more days. What are they going to do, give you an F?” Kathryn and Billy laughed together at that last joke and hugged each other in agreement. As they were putting together the alligator with the manual lying on the ground, Kathryn got a call on her smart phone and the screen said, “Science Prof.”
“Who is it, Kathryn?”
“Nobody. Absolutely nobody.”
Nadia, I haven’t seen this much psychosis out of a woman since Glenn Close boiled a baby bunny alive in Fatal Attraction. I’d say Miranda is worthy of a few B-words here and there. You did a superb job in creating the ultimate protagonist villain. At first I felt sorry for her because she didn’t have the resources to take care of two-year-old Micah. But when she started using hardcore violence to put an end to her problems, that’s when she crossed something TV Tropes likes to call the Moral Event Horizon, which ironically has the acronym of MEH. You should embrace your dark side more often, Nadia. I’d love to read something else of yours in the PG-13 or R district!Edward, you’ve continued the theme of darkness by combining multiple R-rated elements into one short story. Raping a six-year-old, violently dismembering people, burning everyone alive, these are the things Eli Roth has wet dreams about. Despite all of this, none of the violence or sex was gratuitous; it all had a place in this science-fiction masterpiece. Speaking of science, my advice to you would be to, in future stories, talk about science using laymen’s terms so as to avoid confusion among your readers. I got A’s and B’s in my college and high school science classes and even I was confused by some of the language. Other than that, great job, my friend!
Marie, don’t take this the wrong way, but your story actually makes me glad I don’t have children. If I landed in that much human waste, I would be vomiting everywhere and yelling every curse word in the English dictionary. You probably did the same thing, but the difference is, you handle everything like the wonderful supermom you are. To be able to raise four children in a chaotic environment takes a shit-load of patience, pardon the pun. Thanks to you being made of 100% awesome-sauce, your four daughters are going to grow up to be kick-ass adults. Thanks for sharing this yucky, yet poignant story of motherhood with us!
Zach, as I read your story, I’m reminded of a story Colonel Trautman told in the third Rambo movie. The sculptor chiseled away at a giant rock until it resembled a statue. Someone asked how he created the statue, and the sculptor said the statue had been there all along; all he did was chip away at the rough edges. In addition to bringing back a little nostalgia for me, you’ve also captured me attention with free-flowing dialogue, especially near the end when John didn’t say anything at all, yet we knew the answer. He said more in that one gesture than he did telling that entire story to his charge. Your story is a true piece of art, my friend. Thanks for sharing and keep up the damn good work!
Title: The Ninth PlanetAuthor: Angie
Words: 1,500 (This round number makes me very happy)
Feedback is always appreciated :)
Fun Fact for this story: It would take an elephant standing on a pencil to tear through a sheet of graphene as thick as a sheet of saran wrap.
The sky glittered with stars and Charon’s face loomed overhead as Commander Wenzel Emmerick oversaw the construction of the launch tower in the dim light of the far-away sun. Dozens of K.O.B.A. bots swarmed around the tower, carrying massive cubes of silicon carbide. As the blocks came into proper alignment with one another, slender rods of palladium micro-alloy shot from the cubes’ faces, interlocking and fusing with each other until each was firmly in place. The mechanical workings of the blocks activated, the faint whirring barely audible in the thick atmosphere.
“Did you double check your calculations, Wenny?” Chief engineer, Amalia, furiously ran simulations and formulas on her holoscreen.
“Trust me, everything is going perfectly. You forget that I’m the older one.”
“17.358 seconds. That is all you have on me, brother dear. I think the thirty-seven years we’ve shared render those moment moot.” She smiled at him through her visor, the rustling of her graphene suit carrying through their commsystems as she finished her computations. She frowned at the numbers and ran through them again. “Wenzel.”
“You worry too much, Amalia. Everything is fine, everything is on schedule. The tower will be complete well before the Salvation Ark arrives.”
“The surface of this rock is only eight inches thick and an ocean of liquid nitrogen is swirling beneath it: of course I’m cautious. We’d be dead by now if you were chief engineer instead. If your K.O.B.A.s are even half a centimeter off in placing those Palladium blocks, the surface will shatter, we will fall into the ocean and freeze to death almost instantly. All of the passengers on the Ark would be doomed. If they stay in cry-stasis too long, their brains will shrivel into husks.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Amy. The graphene will give us at least thirty, maybe forty-five seconds to live if the ice breaks. More for me since I have 23.6% more body mass than you. But beside the point, I’ve carefully diagramed where the blocks need to go and referenced the points with weaknesses in the ice’s structure. The chemical structure of the ice, along with Pluto’s diminished gravity, will be able to support the weight of the tower. Any reports from the Sentinels? Don’t want those Jupiter terrorists sneaking up on us.”
“The Sentinels are not detecting any abnormalities for 1.7 billion miles; it seems the Children of the Mother Sphere have yet to make their move. We’re safe for now. Did you factor in the changes in the ocean’s current depending on Pluto’s location of orbit?”
“What am I? A fool? Of course I did. And I placed the power block where the currents would produce the most power in the micro-turbines with the power cells strategically placed to minimize energy loss.” Wenzel’s holoscreen chimed and a short message sprang up. An otter, please! Love, Kristen.
“Very well. But I’ll set the computer to continue analyzing the numbers for any unexpected values. We have approximately 206 hours and 27 minutes before the Ark is due to arrive.”
“Good. Would you forward Kristen’s message to the Ark’s captain?”
“Done. She would like to know if the otter will be sent to Genesis after or if it will remain on Europa?”
Wenzel was silent a while. The world was still save for the laboring of the K.O.B.A.s. Layer by layer, the launch tower rose into the sky. “I want it to stay with Kristen,” he said finally. “For however long that is. If there is still need for it on Genesis after, then I will send it on a solitary cryo-pod.”
“Don’t you worry that it will endanger her, Wenzel? There were five bombings on Ganymede last year and eleven on Callisto. The terrorists——the Children——”
“Kristen is dying, Amy. My baby girl is dying and I can’t stop it! I will do whatever it takes to make her smile while she still breathes.”
“Don’t you think I know that, Wen? I love her too. But those Mother Sphere lunatics are already angry about the Ark; they’ve already killed millions. Do you think a nine-year-old girl would do much more for their guilt?”
“The doctor said she only has six months left, Amy. Her tumor is consuming her brain and nothing ever makes her happy anymore. I am going to send her the darn otter.” Wenzel looked up into the sky. “Funny how humans have colonized half the solar system, constructed perpetual motion engines, and built ships to travel between galaxies. And we still can’t cure cancer.”
“Those six months are all the more precious for their brevity, Wenzel. Are you really going to cut them short for the sake of an Earth pet?” Amalia swatted a noisy alert off her holoscreen as she turned back to her brother. “There are plenty of good moondogs for sale on Europa.”
“She wants to see one, Amy. You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have a family.”
“No, I don’t,” she shot back furiously. “Because I’ve been too busy keeping yours from falling apart. Ever since we were children, everything has been about you. You are as selfish as an earthling! You couldn’t even keep your marriage together!”
“How dare you compare me to an earthling! There’s a reason why the Ark project is leaving them to die on the planet they poisoned.”
Amalia recoiled from him. “We’re supposed to save them after the Ark settles the animals on Genesis. They aren’t supposed to die!”
“Grow up, Amy. The directors only said that to appease the Children. Fat lot that did, though. I can’t see why they want to bring that kind of scum into our colonies. We’ve done so much to build our perfect societies while Earth chose to waste away in its own mess and those fools want to throw it all away. They killed the Mother Sphere and people want to give them new planets to destroy? Idiots. All of them.”
“Then why take this job with me? What was the point of all this work for the Ark project?” The betrayal in her voice carried through the comm clearly and her twin couldn’t help but flinch.
“Those animals deserve another chance. They will be able to start anew in the Genesis galaxy. Away from the earthlings that put their own wellbeing over the creatures they shared their planet with. I only wish we could have done this before all of those species went extinct. As it was, it took them years to locate surviving members of the species that still exist on earth.”
“You speak as if Earth’s history is somehow different from ours. We all came from the same place, Wenzel! You cannot punish those earthlings for the sins of our ancestors.”
“You sound like those Mother Sphere fools, Amalia.” He turned away with a sneer. “Earth has dug its own grave and it’s going to have to lay in it.” He took a step away from his sister just as a missile streaked across the sky and crashed into the launch tower.
The virtually indestructible cubes remained undamaged, but the ice around it began to fracture. Grabbing his twin’s hand, Wenzel began sprinting in the opposite direction. “Hurry, Amy! We don’t have much time! Help me enter the launch codes to send the Ark’s supplies into space.”
Behind them, the supply rocket shot into the sky with a roar. Trails of orange flames followed its path as it faded into Pluto’s shadow. K.O.B.A. bots disappeared into the ocean that swallowed them as they fell.
“I’m sending the Ark crew the coordinates to retrieve the supplies. They won’t be able to stop, but they won’t have to turn around.” Amalia stumbled as a fissure formed beneath her feet. Her brother desperately pulled her onto her feet and set her running again. “It should parallel their published route to Genesis.”
“Tell them everything. Remember, we have an additional thirty seconds after the ice breaks.” Wenzel was panting through the commsystem; the gravity was too low for it to have resulted from exertion. The commander was just genuinely terrified.
A space vessel shadowed them from above. A green and blue circle——how Earth had supposedly looked like before all of its forests were cut down and the oceans became radioactive wastelands——was emblazed upon its broad side. Laser cannons rained fire on the twins and the ice layer collapsed.
As the liquid nitrogen washed over their helmets, Wenzel wrapped his arms around his sister. “Forgive me for what I said. I love you, Amy.”
“I love you too. We did well here, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did. Thank you. For everything.” He smiled at her and the tears in his eyes froze on his face as the cold finally cut through his space suit’s insulation. “Rest now.” He watched as her eyes closed for the last time and wished he could have given his extra fifteen seconds to her.
But there was nothing more to do as the darkness finally closed over his mind.
Garrison wrote: "Looks like I've got a lot of reading and critiquing to catch up on. I'll get to that in due time. Until then...AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: The Lego Story
GENRE: Educational Drama
WORD COUNT: ..."
Sweet story this week but I did have a hard time relating to Billy. He was quick to throw his problems on a girl who had only come to check in on him. Kathryn is a better person than I, I would have tough-loved the crap out of that kid.
Angie wrote: "Title: The Ninth PlanetAuthor: Angie
Words: 1,500 (This round number makes me very happy)
Feedback is always appreciated :)
Fun Fact for this story: It would take an elephant standing on a penc..."
Nice sci-fi story! I was a tad confused on one part though. Bare with me, it's very late and I'm pretty sleepy.
Is Pluto the planet that will be Genesis one day when the Ark arrives? Was that why they were there, to create structures that were above the ice?
Marie wrote: "Sweet story this week but I did have a hard time relating to Billy. He was quick to throw his problems on a girl who had only come to check in on him. Kathryn is a better person than I, I would have tough-loved the crap out of that kid."If anybody can set Billy straight with a tough love mentality, it's a former navy sailor with four daughters. I believe you. :)
Angie, I’ve always said how I missed reading your stories week after week and this time around, you continue to amaze me. All the sci-fi details sound like they’re well-researched in addition to well-imagined. I also liked the commentary on how earthlings mistreat their own planet and expect better results. If we heard that kind of commentary in the media more often, then we wouldn’t have to worry about the future. Of course, hearing the commentary is one thing and actually doing something about it is another, which is where the sadness in your story lies. You’ve created not only a vivid world, but vivid drama as well. It’s good to see you back!
Garrison wrote: "Looks like I've got a lot of reading and critiquing to catch up on. I'll get to that in due time. Until then...AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: The Lego Story
GENRE: Educational Drama
WORD COUNT: ..."
Silly Billy! Fair enough if you want to waste your own time and money, but now he's dragged Kathryn into his den of iniquity? He didn't come across as someone who had been neglected as a child though - if anything he came across as spoilt. Why didn't he tell his parent he wanted to do an engineering course or something? :D Still, some great back and forth dialogue between the two leads.
Oh, and here's a movie reference for you; I watched 'Captain Phillips' yesterday, and Tom Hanks wife was played by... Catherine Keener!
I had no idea Catherine Keener was actually someone's name until you told me. Oops!
Garrison wrote: "I had no idea Catherine Keener was actually someone's name until you told me. Oops!"Yep! I've done that before! She's the woman from 40 Year Old Virgin that Steve Carell gets together with... It doesn't matter, though, It's when you use character names that exist that it's a problem. :D I had a character called Ronnie Chase back when I first started writing, then realises she was the main character in the old sitcom Veronica's Closet! :-P
I just looked up Billy Snow's name on Wikipedia and he's a boxer from the Rocky franchise. Ruh-roh! Hehehe!
Marie wrote: "Nice sci-fi story! I was a tad confused on one part though. Bare with me, it's very late and I'm pretty sleepy.Is Pluto the planet that will be Genesis one day when the Ark arrives? Was that why they were there, to create structures that were above the ice?
Thank you, Marie! In my head, I pictured Pluto more as this solar system's pit stop for ships heading for deep space. Genesis is a newly terraformed planet in another galaxy where the animals from earth are going to be able to have a new start away from human interference.
Thanks, Garrison :) It's great to be back and I always appreciate your thoughtful feedback.
Angie wrote: "Marie wrote: "Nice sci-fi story! I was a tad confused on one part though. Bare with me, it's very late and I'm pretty sleepy.Is Pluto the planet that will be Genesis one day when the Ark arrives? ..."
Okay, it makes sense to me now! I have to stop reading these in the middle of the night running on 3 hours of sleep...
Thanks!
Marie wrote: "Okay, it makes sense to me now! I have to stop reading these in the middle of the night running on 3 hours of sleep...Thanks!"
That's something I'm sure we've all been guilty of at some point or another. ;)
I'm usually on my computer writing around 2:00am so I take breaks every now and then to read what everyone writes up here. It's a wonder anything I write even makes sense.
Nadia: I'm not sure if I've ever read any of your stories in this group before, but this one was great. I loved the shifting tone and atmosphere you created (and in so few words too!). It really is testament to a carefully crafted story. Well done!
Edward: It might just be my literature class making me hyper-analyze everything, but there were so many layers in this story, from Professor Mahajan playing god, to brilliant little Aja, who showed that knowledge cannot be compared to experience or wisdom. I found Professor Mahajan's sacrifice at the end to be tragically beautiful and selfless: he was willing to give up the person he cared for most in the world in order to protect the rest of humanity, but loved her so much that he would not let her die alone. I only wish that his sacrifice was enough to stop the spread of the disease. Wonderful piece.
Marie: Such a lovely little story about having children. I feel like you certainly captured that combined element of love and exasperation for toddlers in one go. I really enjoyed this one.On a side note, I notice that first few stories seem to include parenthood. Let's see if thattrend continues.
Marie wrote: "I'm usually on my computer writing around 2:00am so I take breaks every now and then to read what everyone writes up here. It's a wonder anything I write even makes sense."
There are some days I wonder that no matter how many hours of sleep I've had!
Angie wrote: "Title: The Ninth PlanetAuthor: Angie
Words: 1,500 (This round number makes me very happy)
Feedback is always appreciated :)
Fun Fact for this story: It would take an elephant standing on a penc..."
This is wonderfully written - it feels like it could be part of a much larger story. Maybe one day you'll write it! I'd like to see how the non Earthlings convinced them to allow their animals to be taken away. They must be pretty trusting to believe the word of a society that clearly sneers at their very existence.
Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group.
Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.
REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This week’s topic is:Building Blocks
The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject but it must relate to the topic somehow.
Have fun!
Thanks to Marie for suggesting the topic!