Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Weekly Short Story Contests
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Week 267 (June 28-July 4). Stories. Topic: Paradigm Shift
Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is a "paradigm shift"? I looked it up online and all I got was a bunch of jargon. It would be nice if I had some laymen's terms. :)
Googling paradigm, I got "a typical example or pattern of something; a pattern or model." So a shift in said paradigm would indicate to me something out of the norm, or unexpected. So perhaps a story about something with a very unexpected twist in perspective - maybe the villain is the hero or something along those lines.It's gonna be a tricky week. Thanks a bunch, Melissa! :-P
Garrison wrote: "Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is a "paradigm shift"? I looked it up online and all I got was a bunch of jargon. It would be nice if I had some laymen's terms. :)"A paradigm is a point of view, a way of looking at things. Think of it as the foundational belief and understanding of the world around you. i.e. it used to be believed that the Earth was the center of the universe. Now we know that the sun is the center of our solar system and that this solar system is only a portion of the infinite universe. This would have radically changed the entire way astronomers, and the rest of the world, looked at space and existence. Does that help? Maybe someone else can explain it better than I can?
Angie wrote: "A paradigm is a point of view, a way of looking at things. Think of it as the foundational belief and understanding of the world around you. i.e. it used to be believed that the Earth was the center of the universe. Now we know that the sun is the center of our solar system and that this solar system is only a portion of the infinite universe. This would have radically changed the entire way astronomers, and the rest of the world, looked at space and existence. Does that help? Maybe someone else can explain it better than I can?"It's good to see they're still teaching stuff in schools! :D
I've got a decade on Garrison and two on Angie, and I still had to look this up as well!
Thank you guys for your respective explanations. They do help. I'll tell you what: as soon as I go post a review of a WWE divas match in my usual places, I'll come back here with a synopsis ready to go. Don't move; I'll be right back! :)
Because this synopsis was written in the early days of my membership here, it's not as fleshed out as I would normally have it, probably because I wasn't used to writing synopses just yet. Not to worry, because it's still going to become a story. That story is called "Crossing the Line" and it goes like this:CHARACTERS:
Edwin Stryker, Paladin
Marcia Patterson, Cleric
Bratkin Powerchild, Barbarian Chief
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Edwin and Marcia are trying to enforce a paradigm shift within Bratkin’s culture.
SYNOPSIS: In a Dungeons & Dragons-like setting, Edwin and Marcia venture into primitive territory to try and convert Bratkin and his barbarian tribe to their religion. As Marcia spews the doctrine of her paladin religion, Bratkin gets hostile and tries to kill her and Edwin.
AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: Crossing the Line
GENRE: D&D-Style Fantasy
WORD COUNT: 1,400 exactly (wow!)
RATING: PG for swearing, violence, and mild blood
“I still don’t know what the hell I was thinking coming here with you, Marcia,” said Edwin Stryker, a noble paladin decked out in silver armor and two golden gauntlets in case he needed to throw fisticuffs. The “here” he was referring to was deep in the heart of the Powerchild Tribe encampment, located in a sweltering jungle that made sweat rain off normal people’s bodies.
“Our mission is simple, Edwin: spread the word of Paladine to these savage beasts. If I have to scream it at the top of my lungs before they get the message, then so be it,” said Marcia Patterson, a preachy cleric dressed in white cloth robes with a steel breastplate underneath while brandishing a jagged dagger. Judging from the dirty looks she was getting from the Powerchild Tribe members, mostly made up of half-orc barbarians living in tents and cabins, she was going to need that dagger sooner or later.
“Listen, Marcia: you can get a little preachy and sanctimonious, but don’t overdo it. These people are barbarians and don’t like being talked down to. They’re also half-orcs, so they like it even less. If you talk yourself into a corner, I may have no choice but to back out of this mission.
“More room in paradise for me,” said Marcia as she and Edwin were striding through the campgrounds. They reached the very back and found a much larger and much more menacing half-orc than what they were used to seeing sitting on a throne of bones. Half-orc barbarians were never anything to look at with their slimy green skin, disfigured faces, and razor sharp teeth. This warrior who sat on the throne took all of that and multiplied it with his presence alone.
Marcia said, “Excuse me, we’re looking for the leader of the Powerchild Tribe, Bratkin.”
“Look no further, you’ve found him. Now what business do you and your paladin friend have here?” said the intimidating half-orc now known as Bratkin. The sight of this beast humbled the cleric and paladin to where they stood stoically with their hands folded in front of them.
But of course, Marcia wasn’t satisfied with such a humble approach. She extended her arms like a street preacher and said, “I’m here to deliver a message from the divine paradise of Paladine. We are here to bring holiness and morals to a place known for savagery. We can make holy soldiers out of uncouth beasts and we can…”
“Spare me your gospel, woman,” said a bored-looking Bratkin. “I’ve heard this crap a million times before and it doesn’t get any better. Many of your kind have come to civilize my people and now their bones are cushioning my savage ass.”
“Marcia, maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea…” said a slightly nervous Edwin Stryker.
“Shut up! I’ll take care of this, Edwin. Stay back and don’t do anything until I tell you to,” said Marcia, who wasted no time getting back to her charismatic paradigm shift sermon. “Sure, Bratkin, you could continue with your sinful ways, but doing so promises you a lifetime and an afterlife of burning hellfire. Those who refuse to conform to Paladine’s ways are doomed to a dystopian nightmare for all eternity. Is that what you want for your people?”
The other half-orcs started gathering around, but not to soak in Marcia Patterson’s disgusting message. They were armed with wooden spears and stone battleaxes. Bratkin was no more amused than they were as he stood up from his throne and cracked his knuckles so loudly that they sounded like machinegun fire.
Edwin swallowed a bit of saliva and was getting close to telling Marcia to back down when the zealous cleric raised two fingers to the sky and summoned a light blue magical barrier that separated Bratkin, Edwin, and herself from the rest of the half-orcs, who were shocking themselves trying to break through the force field.
“Last chance, Bratkin: Armageddon is upon you, my monstrous friend!” threatened Marcia.
“You know nothing of holiness, you evil bitch!” screamed Bratkin as he rushed toward Marcia like a football quarterback trying to spear tackle his opponent into oblivion. Edwin ended up being the one who did the spear tackling as he knocked Bratkin on his back and held him down in a mixed martial arts hold.
“Get out of here, Marcia! I’ll hold him down for you!” screamed Edwin.
“What are you waiting for, Edwin, just execute him! He’s worthless!” screamed Marcia in a nails-across-chalkboard voice.
Using nothing but brute strength, Bratkin military pressed Edwin and tossed him to the side. Meanwhile, Marcia’s barrier was getting weaker and weaker as time progressed. She couldn’t move or else the barrier would disappear. She was helpless to do anything when Bratkin got up, grabbed Edwin by his ankles, and began slamming him repeatedly on his back and but, creating bruises on his spine and cracking some of that silver armor.
In between slams, Edwin shouted to his partner, “What have you done, Marcia?!” The next answer was going to be simple: she would let down the barrier and rush over to the enraged Bratkin with her dagger ready. In one swift motion, she brought the jagged blade into the barbarian chief’s arm and ripped open a bloody hole that drizzled with life fluids.
The barrier of light was down, but the other half-orcs stayed back anyway. They watched in horror as their leader was bleeding severely from his arm. Marcia held her bloody weapon up high and yelled, “You see that, everyone! That is clerical magic at work! None of you are any match for the forces of Paladine!”
Through a raspy voice, a slowly recovering Edwin said while crawling up to Bratkin, “Shut up, Marcia! You’ve done enough already!” The zealous woman responded with a look of shock on her face. She just saved her paladin partner’s life and he’s still pissed at her for angering these barbarians in the first place.
Despite being brutally battered against the dirty ground, Edwin still had enough of a heart to look at the screaming Bratkin’s bloody wound. Using his paladin powers, he took off his golden gauntlets and placed both hands on the wound. A beautiful golden light radiated from his palms and instead of a painful burn, Bratkin felt a joyous massage in what used to be his wound, which was fully healed. He was grateful for the healing, but confused at the same time.
Slowly standing up and trying to maintain his equilibrium through his battered body, Edwin said, “You see that, everyone? That’s not the fear and hatred my cleric partner Marcia Patterson was preaching. That is hope and love. I don’t know what she wants from all of you, but I know what I want. I don’t want to destroy your village with hellfire. I want to build schools on it. And hospitals. I don’t take lives. I make them better. Which would you rather have: a future with hope, love, and positivity, or a future where bitchy preachers like Marcia tell you what to do and make you feel guilty even when you obey?”
It seemed like an easy decision, but Bratkin leaped up and gripped his massive hand around Edwin’s jaw, squeezing with brutal strength. “You know what I think of all of that, paladin?!” Just when it looked like Bratkin was going to snap this man’s neck, he let go of the grip and hugged him instead. “You’re alright with me, big guy! I like you a lot!” Edwin yelped when Bratkin hugged him too hard and the barbarian released him, apologizing afterwards.
Marcia watched the whole thing with shock on her face and half-orcs surrounding her with weapons in hand. Bratkin rubbed Edwin’s aching shoulders and asked, “What do we do with her, noble paladin?”
Edwin took one disgusted look at his former partner and said, “I’m a paladin. My doctrine won’t allow me to put my hands on her. But as I look around here, I don’t see paladins. I see warriors. Do whatever you want with her. I don’t care anymore.”
The half-orcs grabbed Marcia around the arms and dragged her away kicking, screaming, and cussing (the latter of which was unusual for a conservative cleric like her). She had the last word on the subject and chose those words carefully: “Damn you all to hell!”
This is a portion of the novel I've been working on for years, have finally finished editing, and hope to have published before the year is out. Comments are most definitely welcome.Title: Never Sleep Again
Word Count: 994
Rating: PGish
“You can show me to him now, or I can kill all of you and find him anyway,” Gerard stated calmly. Though the secret service had him surrounded, they knew they didn’t stand a chance. The men in suits exchanged uneasy looks with each other for a minute before one bulky man pushed his earpiece in further.
“Go ahead,” he said, into the tiniest of microphones. He listened for a minute then glanced wearily at Gerard. “Okay. He’ll see you.” Guns were lowered and they escorted him into the oval office, right before the man himself.
“I assume that you’re not here to kill me,” the human said, his eyes never betraying his growing panic. Two guards stood just inside the door, not daring to take their eyes off the appalling creature. The others waited nervously outside.
Gerard raised his pointy chin in the air. “You are of no importance to me. But I come here now as a … representative of those you have labeled vampire. I have information you may find interesting.”
“If it’s about the satellites, we already know,” the president sat and motioned for him to sit as well but the elder never moved. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the man with ever narrowing eyes. Sweat broke out on the human’s face. A vampire was terrifying enough but the president had never seen one in person. And he had most certainly never heard of one that looked as grotesque as this one. Add to that the fact that this creature looked like he was getting pissed off, well, he was glad he’d emptied his bladder recently.
“You think you know. You think some foreign enemy is trying to sabotage your communications. Which is true, only the enemy is more foreign than you realize. Their ships are presently hiding behind the moon.”
The human’s mouth fell open, all pretenses gone. “You can’t be serious? You don’t really expect me to believe that?”
Gerard wrinkled his upper lip as if regarding a disgusting insect. His voice lowered an octave. “I do not waste my time on lies. I came to warn you that when the attacks begin just make sure that you are aiming at the correct enemy. These little war games that have been going on between our species for the past few decades have been entertaining but it is time to move on. My brethren have decided to protect your people from annihilation, do not pay them back with hostility.”
“Annihilation? You’re sure that they wish to invade?”
The vampire said nothing.
“Well,” the president wiped sweat from his brow, “should we… sign a peace agreement, if you are indeed telling the truth?”
Gerard had a grip on the president’s head before secret service could even blink. The man cried out but could not move. “See what your people have already suffered,” he growled and connected with his mind, showing him the gruesome images that Ravyn had witnessed. The process took only a second. Gerard released him and the man shuddered violently.
“My God!” he whispered with feeling, a few tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He then looked to the vampire with hope. “You will protect us?”
The Great Lord smiled wickedly, making the humans who saw it cringe in fear. “I will protect innocents. That does not include you. You and those like you have blood on your hands that will not wash off: vampire blood.”
“But, please! You have to protect the White House!”
Again Gerard did not reply. He merely stared at the human male like he was an insignificant bug crawling across the floor. The president trembled and tried to hide his terror. He failed.
“Then why bother at all? Why not let them take over? Surely they can’t harm you?”
The fact that Gerard chose to actually answer this lowlife human was strange indeed. “As one of my children pointed out, it’s a matter of principal, of pride. I claimed this world as my own before your ancestors were writing on tablets. I got here first and, as they say, finders keepers.”
The president’s eyes bulged. “You mean to say that you are really…”
“Just know, little human, that when this is over, the rulers of this world will not be of your species either way. Hope, for the sake of your people, that we can eliminate them before you are eradicated.” And without another word he appeared to vanish on the spot, though in truth he had simply moved too quickly to be seen.
The president dabbed a tissue at his sweaty forehead. He recalled his utter disbelief when he’d taken office and was informed of the ‘war’ against the vampires. It had taken some time to convince him that it wasn’t some huge practical joke. After the truth had finally seeped in, he didn’t sleep well at night. Even prescription drugs couldn’t help his anxiety. If vampires were real beings, my God, what else was out there? Now the day he’d been dreading was here: the day when he found out that there actually were other monsters out there. Monsters that weren’t content to hide in the shadows. Could it really be true? It was too much to wrap his head around. Aliens just couldn’t be real!
Oh yes, the world was indeed coming to an end. Could he face such an end? An alien invasion? Was he really strong enough to lead this nation against such a thing? Well, if it came down to it, he could always pull out the old Smith and Wesson and save himself from the same horrible fate of those on Martha’s Vineyard.
He would never sleep again. After seeing the torture and gruesome murder of those poor people, as if he had been there himself, no, he would never be able to close his eyes in peace for the rest of his life. However short a time that may be.
Garrison wrote: "AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: Crossing the Line
GENRE: D&D-Style Fantasy
WORD COUNT: 1,400 exactly (wow!)
RATING: PG for swearing, violence, and mild blood
“I still don’t know what the hell I wa..."
This was an effective tale with a fun element I can tell you enjoyed writing. And wow, hardly any swearing ( :D )!! A nice twist in viewpoint that might have worked better for me if it turned out the characters were playing D&D or some such game. Using peace to win at WOW would be hilarious!
Edward wrote: "This was an effective tale with a fun element I can tell you enjoyed writing. And wow, hardly any swearing ( :D )!! A nice twist in viewpoint that might have worked better for me if it turned out the characters were playing D&D or some such game. Using peace to win at WOW would be hilarious!"Thanks for the kick-ass feedback, Edward! I agree: it would be hilarious. :)
Marie wrote: "This is a portion of the novel I've been working on for years, have finally finished editing, and hope to have published before the year is out. Comments are most definitely welcome.Title: Never ..."
I just finished writing one of my novels which culminates in the end of the world, so it's fun to see someone else's idea of the apocalypse / rapture / etc. Do you plan on self-publishing or trying to find a publisher? This feels like it'll be really action-packed!
I'm not completely happy with how this turned out, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Paradigm Shift was really hard!Title : Love Is Blind
Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Romance
Word Count : 1992
Rating : PG
Greg was not a handsome man. In fact some would go so far as too call him ugly. He had a broken nose from a fall as a child, crooked teeth due his parents being unable to afford proper dentistry, and his hair was so greasy you could scrape it off and use it to fry your breakfast. He was also only five foot four, which didn’t help in a world when any man under five foot ten is considered by most women to be a midget! He may not have been Peter Dinklage or Warrick Davis, but in the eyes of any woman he fancied, he might as well have been.
Oh, and he had bad skin.
And he was fat.
Basically, Greg was not attractive.
Every day at school he was inundated with insults from his peers, ranging from simple things like grease ball, fatty or wonky nose, to more considered insults such as Sloth – not because he was lazy, but in reference to the character from The Goonies. Greg had to look that one up as it was from before his time, but once he had he soon realised why some of the kids shouted out “Hey you guys!” when he walked past.
Greg hated every day at school.
One afternoon, in biology class, Greg was sat on his own as usual, testing the acidity of potatoes with litmus paper, when an announcement came from his teacher.
“Class,” she said, “I’d like to introduce you to a new exchange student, Summer Meadows. She’s come from one of the schools on the other side of town, but don’t hold that against her.”
The class chuckled, and Greg glanced up at the girl. She stood next to the teacher, wearing dark glasses for some reason. Greg frowned – she obviously thought she was really cool, and would be yet another kid who didn’t want anything to do with him other than to use him as a sounding board for their latest batch of insults. Plus she was really good looking, which didn’t help. He looked back down at his potato.
“Can I sit here?” a voice spoke from next to Greg, and he almost dropped his vegetable on the floor. He looked around to see Summer standing next to him.
“Sure,” Greg said, going back to his potato.
“So what are you doing?” Summer asked, encroaching on Greg’s work space.
“I’m experimenting,” Greg said.
“What with?” Summer asked.
Greg rolled his eyes, “Potatoes,” he groaned, “What. Are you stupid or something?”
“No,” Summer replied, “just blind.”
Greg looked at Summer again, this time more carefully. On closer inspection he noticed that she had some sort of bandaging across her eyes, and was also carrying a stick.
Oh brother.
“I’m sorry,” Greg apologised, “I didn’t realise.”
“It’s okay,” Summer smiled, “it’s only temporary. I had to have laser surgery to remove a cataract and my eyes need to be protected from direct light. It’s a bit over the top, I know, but the doctor thought bandaging them up might speed up the process.”
“I’m not sure if that’s how it works,” Greg said, “I’m Greg, by the way.”
“I’m Summer,’ Summer said, holding out her hand to shake Greg’s.
“I know,’ said Greg, “so, why didn’t you wait until your eyes were better before coming to a new school?”
“I didn’t want to miss any more classes,” Summer said, “I’m already a few weeks behind with having changed school, and now with this...”
“Yeah,” Greg said, “playing catch up can be a real pain.”
As the class carried on, Greg and Summer chatted away, finding they had a lot in common. Greg found himself enjoying school for the first time in a long time, and he really liked Summer. She was funny and charming and knew all about his favourite past times and television shows.
When class ended, as did the school day, Summer asked Greg, “So, what do you do after school?”
“Not much,” he replied, “I usually just go home, or head to the comic shop.”
“Oh you have to show me where the comic shop is,” Summer smiled, “I just love comic books.”
“How do you read them?” Greg asked.
Summer chuckled, “Hey, I haven’t always been blind you know. In fact. It won’t be that long before I can sit down and read them again.”
Greg raised his eyebrows. Wow, a good looking girl who liked comics, he thought to himself, that’s almost as rare as a fish with a bicycle, although far more useful.
“I’ll take you to the comic shop now if you like,” he told her, and they headed to the shops.
“I’d like that,” Summer beamed, linking her arm in Greg’s.
*
A few weeks passed, and Greg and Summer had become inseparable. They hung out in class, in the cafeteria, and after school as well.
All the other kids didn’t quite understand their friendship, but seeing as Greg was such a dweeb and Summer was blind they didn’t really interfere.
Until Summer was due to get her eyes checked.
“Do you want to come with me?” Summer asked after telling Greg her exciting news, “It would be awesome to finally see you after all these weeks?”
Greg didn’t know what to do. He’d enjoyed his new found friendship with Summer, but was worried what might happen once she got her eyesight back and actually saw him for the first time.
“Do you really want me there?” Greg asked, “Wouldn’t you prefer it to be just your parents and family?”
“You’ve become like family over the past few weeks,” Summer said, “it’s weird, all the other kids at school seem to just ignore me because I’m blind, but you... you’ve been really nice to me.”
Summer grasped Greg’s hand, and he blushed.
“Okay then,” he said, “I’ll come along, but don’t run away when you see what I look like.”
“Why would I do something like that?” Summer asked.
“Well, I’m not the best looking guy in class,” Greg admitted.
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” Summer smiled, but Greg couldn’t bring himself to do the same.
“Hey,” someone suddenly called from across the hall, “hey, Sloth. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Who’s Sloth?” Summer asked.
“I don’t know,” Greg lied.
“Hey Sloth,” one of the jocks from the football team shouted, punching Greg in the shoulder, “do you wanna Babe Ruth?”
“No thank you,” Greg said quietly.
“Who are you calling Sloth?” Summer asked the jock.
The jock stared at Summer for a few seconds, then waved her hand in front of her eyes. He laughed.
“Is this the best you can do, Sloth?” the jock cried out, “You’re having to go out with blind chicks just so they don’t throw up when they see your face?”
“Go away, Troy,” Greg mumbled.
“What did you say?” Troy the jock growled.
“Hello, Troy is it?” Summer suddenly interrupted, not realising that Troy was about to punch Greg in the face.
Troy looked at Summer. Even though she was blind she was still incredibly attractive, and he stopped in his tracks.
“Yeah,” he said, “and who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare,” Summer replied. Using the sound of his voice to locate where he was, Summer swung her cane into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground.
“Don’t mess with Greg, you hear me?” she shouted, spitting in Troy’s general direction, “he’s not taking any more of your shit, understand?”
“Okay, okay,” Troy cowered on the floor, just leave me alone you crazy woman!”
Greg looked at Summer as she stood over Troy, her stance one of great anger, and he smiled.
*
The following weekend was Summer’s appointment to have her eyes checked. If all went well she wouldn’t need to wear her sunglasses or bandages any longer.
But that’s what worried Greg.
What if she sees me and realises how ugly I am? He thought to himself as his mum drove him to the hospital, What if she doesn’t want to be my friend any longer?
Greg sniffed back a tear as his mum pulled the car into the hospital car park and he clambered out of the passenger seat.
“Will you be okay on your own?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he told her, “I’ll call if I need you to pick me up.”
“Okay then,” his mother said before driving away.
Greg looked up at the hospital building and swallowed nervously. He still wasn’t sure why he was going ahead with this. He just knew that, once the bandages came off, Summer wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
Slowly Greg headed towards the lift after having asked at reception what room Summer was in. He pressed the button for the relevant floor and then waited nervously as the life climbed the building towards what could very well be the end of his happy little world.
When the lift stopped and didn’t plummet to the ground below, Greg stepped out onto the floor where Summer was having her eyes checked. He walked into her room, where her mum was standing with her by the bed.
Mrs Meadows was every bit as attractive as her daughter. She had the same complexion, the same hair, and her eyes sparkled in the bright hospital light. Greg was not surprised that Summer was the product of such superior stock.
“You must be Greg,” Mrs Meadows smiled, holding out her hand for Greg to shake, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“All good, I hope,” Greg replied nervously.
“Of course,” Mrs Meadows said, trying not to laugh, “and I’d like to thank you for making Summer’s transition to her new school such an easy one.”
“That’s no problem,” Greg nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet, “So, where’s the doctor?”
“He’ll be here soon,” Summer said, “this shouldn’t take too long.”
Greg nodded, for his own benefit, “S. Where’s your dad?” he asked.
“He’s just getting us some coffee,” Mrs Meadows replied for her daughter, “he shouldn’t be long.”
As she spoke, Summer’s doctor walked into the room, “So, how is everyone today?” he asked.
“Fine,” Summer replied, grinning.
“And how have your eyes been?” the doctor continued, “They haven’t been itching at all?”
“Nope,” Summer grinned, “They’re fine. Can I take these bandages off yet?”
“I don’t see why not,” the doctor quipped, lowering the lights in the room. Greg wondered if he realised he just made an eyesight joke – he probably did, he probably made the same ones all the time.
The doctor slowly began to cut through the side of the bandages, unwrapping the loose pieces from around Summer’s head. Summer continued to smile as the bandages came away from her eyes and she blinked repeatedly.
Greg was terrified.
Summer’s eyes looked red around the edges, but otherwise she seemed okay. He pupils were a little small, but that was to be expected. She blinked tears out of her eyes, then looked at her mum and smiled. Then she turned to Greg...
...And smiled even wider.
“So that’s what you look like?” Summer beamed, “I thought you said you were hideous?”
Greg stared at the beautiful girl in disbelief, “I am.” He said simply.
“I don’t think you are,” Summer replied, sitting back on her bed.
“I got your coffee,” a voice spoke from the doors, snatching Greg’s attention away from Summer. He turned to see a man standing there, his thin greasy hair plastered back on his fat head. The man smiled, revealing rows of crooked teeth, then wiped the back of his hand across his crooked nose.
“Hey dad,” Summer smiled, “it’s good to see you.”
“Hey, honey,” Mr Meadows replied, handing one of the coffees to his wife, then turned to look at Greg, “and who might this handsome man be?”
Greg looked at Summer’s dad, then at Summer, then he burst into fits of laughter.
Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "This is a portion of the novel I've been working on for years, have finally finished editing, and hope to have published before the year is out. Comments are most definitely welcome...."
I'm searching for an agent for this one, mostly because it will a series of books. And at least two anthologies of short stories. It's a pretty massive world with many, many characters.
Marie wrote: "Edward wrote: "I'm searching for an agent for this one, mostly because it will a series of books. And at least two anthologies of short stories. It's a pretty massive world with many, many characters."Well, good luck! It's a tough world out there - I've had no luck with agents! Does HarperCollins do Wednesday Post in the US? You can send them unsolicited manuscripts on a Wednesday in Oz & NZ...
It seems to me that I first encountered the term paradigm shift in a book by Stephen Covey, called The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. It’s been years since I read it, and I remember hardly anthing about it, other than that phrase.
I finally have an idea for this! Going to start working on it right now :)
Edward wrote: "I'm not completely happy with how this turned out, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Paradigm Shift was really hard!Title : Love Is Blind
Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Romance
Word Count : 1992
Rati..."
Beauty is most certainly in the eye of the beholder. What a sweet story!
Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "Edward wrote: "I'm searching for an agent for this one, mostly because it will a series of books. And at least two anthologies of short stories. It's a pretty massive world with many,..."I've had no luck either, so far. But you can get a hundred rejection letters and that hundred and first letter could be the one. I won't be giving up any time soon!
I've tried submitting to magazines but my stories don't fit into the little categories that editors are looking for, apparently. Oh well.
Marie wrote: "I've tried submitting to magazines but my stories don't fit into the little categories that editors are looking for, apparently. Oh well."If you have any stories less than 10,000 words that are scifi or fantasy, try sending them to Beneath Ceaseless Skies. I'm thinking of trying and seeing what happens... Have to write something first. :D
Okay, here is mine. I hope you like it.Title : The Creature In The Woods
Author : Ica Iova
Genre : Paranormal, Fantasy. YA
Word Count : 1603
Once Joseph stepped out in the rain, he breathed a sigh of relief; the school was finally over. In the fall, he would go to high school. Play with the big boys. He sighed and decided to take a shortcut through the woods. The absence of traffic and the serene backdrop allowed him to consider all the things he could do over the summer. Early in the spring his parents had split up, and this year it didn’t look like either one of them was up for an out of town vacation.
The sound of heavy footsteps on crunching leaves interrupted his thoughts. He stopped and turned toward the sound. His friend, Raul, came into the view.
Joseph and Raul had known each other since kindergarten and their friendship became stronger when Joseph stood up to some kids who bullied Raul during grade four. However, when Gina moved to their neighborhood, she drew a wedge between the two best friends. Raul liked her, but she seemed to like Joseph. To the untrained eye, Raul and Joseph still looked inseparable because Raul kept his personal feelings hidden, but Joseph knew better.
“Hey. What are you doing tonight?” Raul inquired once he caught up with Joseph, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
Joseph shrugged. “Hey. Nothing, I guess. You?”
“Let’s play Flashlight Hide and Seek,” Raul suggested.
“Who else is coming?”
“Sandy and Gina.”
Joseph sensed the same anger in his friend’s tone that he had been detecting throughout their grade seven. However, as usual, he acted as if he hadn’t noticed. If Raul decided to confront him, he would deal with the situation accordingly. Until then, better not stir the pot if nothing smelled. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight,” he agreed.
When Joseph’s parents separated, his father moved out allowing Joseph and his mother to live in their family home. Located next to an old church on one side, and the woods on the other side, Joseph’s backyard provided endless places to hide. With plenty of room to play a good game of Hide and Seek, they always played behind Joseph’s house.
Flashlight Hide and Seek was fun and scary at the same time. While the seeker had a flashlight, none of the other players did, so they had to sit in the dark waiting to be found.
When Joseph arrived home, a note from his mother waited for him on the kitchen table. ‘I’ll be working late. Beef stew and mashed potatoes are in the fridge. Love, Mom.’
He piled a plate with food, carried it in the living room and began to watch a movie.
Joseph wasn’t sure when he fell asleep but awakened suddenly by banging on the front door, he jerked and headed toward the sound. His journey halted momentarily as he stopped to turn on the interior lights, revealing a pathway from the messy living room to the front hallway. An inexplicable shudder ran up his spine as his hand reached forward to open the door. Nightfall had engulfed the atmosphere and his friends had come for the game.
How long was I asleep? He shrugged and stepped outside to greet his friends.
“Hi guys,” he said groggily.
Gina placed a hand on his shoulder drawing an immediate gaze from Raul. “You just woke up, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I feel asleep on the couch,” Joseph said, massaging the back of his neck with one hand.
“Well, c’mon, let’s play,” Raul urged them.
With all rules pre-set, stepping over a pile of rocks deep in the backyard, they spread in different directions and the game began.
A few rounds later, it was Joseph’s turn to be the seeker. He gave everyone a few minutes to hide before he began his quest to find his friends. He first started to go toward the church in search for them but changed his mind and began to walk down the tree line toward the moss-draped woods. Some rustling in the woods caught his attention and he smiled knowing he had found someone. Slowly, creeping up on the sound he could see branches and tree trunks. Massive dew-covered rocks glistened in the dim moonlight. The brushwood crunched beneath his feet. He took a few more steps and began to feel as if someone was watching him. A strong feeling that it was not his friends settled in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was, made him feel very uncomfortable, so he started to go back. He made it out of the woods and then began to walk further down the tree line when he heard that same noise again.
Pushed by curiosity, he went back to the woods to see what it was. With his flashlight aimed at the ground in front of him, he walked a few feet then stopped to listen. Then walked a few more feet, and then he stopped again. The noise seemed to come from his side and slightly in front of him. He slowly lifted his light upward and strange grayish feet, long legs and a back appeared in the ray of light.
Joseph froze and dropped his flashlight instantly. With only the moon as his light, he saw the shadow turn around and reveal what had been hidden in the darkness. Joseph took a step back; his breath caught in his throat as the creature slowly moved, snapping twigs in the process. In the moonlight standing motionless in front of him, was a creature that he had only seen in horror films. About seven feet tall with wings tucked behind itself, and arms hanging by its side, the creature seemed horrifying. Afraid of what he would see, Joseph did not look up for facial features, but he could not avoid seeing the glowing red eyes. Though a very faint glow, it was a glow nonetheless, which drew Joseph’s gaze to a lipless hole filled with sharp but blackened teeth and no nose to speak of.
The moonlight amplified its features, and as it began to raise its head for a closer look at Joseph with its entrancing red eyes, a scream began. It came fast and quick as if the souls of thousands expressed their torment. The image behind its teeth revealed a bloody red, jagged, and forked tongue that seemed to overpower Joseph’s brain. Frozen with fear he gasped and took a shaky step back needing a plan to get out of there as soon as possible.
He took another step backward and slowly began to retrieve trying not to make a sound, although he knew that his cover had been blown. The creature remained motionless as Joseph plotted his escape. Slowly, very slowly, he kept walking backward and was almost out of the woods when he heard sticks breaking. He knew the creature was moving, and the monster standing in front of him blocking his way the very next second, proved him right.
Joseph tried to go around, but the creature picked him up and threw him in the air. He landed on the ground with a loud thump a few feet away and before he could get up, the creature picked him up and threw him in the air, this time more forceful.
Sure that this would be his last living day as his strength wavered, Joseph forced himself to hold on. His body screamed, and he felt his energy slip away. His brain gave a series of commands, which his body ignored. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He wanted to shout, but he couldn’t. But more than anything he wanted to survive, and as the creature prepared for another attack, Joseph gathered all his energy and crawled out of the creature’s way. Just then, he caught sight of a form collapsed against the rocks.
“Oh God, that’s Gina! And she is not moving,” Joseph cried out. “Help! Someone, please help!”
He continued to shout hoping someone would come and help, but no one did.
He shakily got up and still wobbling he hurried as fast as he could, not looking back, and not stopping until he reached his backyard. He stood there breathing heavily when he heard a loud swooping noise like a giant bird taking off. He turned around and saw the most incredible thing he had ever seen in his life. The giant creature was flying. In the moonlight, Joseph saw its enormous wingspan before it disappeared from view. He remained there in the middle of the lawn speechless and looking at the sky. Still in shock, he forgot that he and his friends were playing.
Sandy appeared from the tree line. “What’re you doing?” he asked Joseph seemingly unaware of what had happened.
“Did you see it?” Joseph asked still scanning the sky.
“See what? What’re you talking about?”
Suddenly, Joseph remembered Gina and took a few steps toward the tree line. Still unclear about Joseph’s trance-like state, Sandy followed closely behind him when Gina emerged from the woods and ran toward them.
“Raul,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.
Joseph breathed a sigh of relief. “I saw you laying there. I thought you were dead.”
“Raul,” she mumbled. “He tried to kill me.”
Joseph’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? No. It was the creature. Where is Raul, anyway.”
“Raul IS the creature," she raised her voice. "He left me there when I wasn’t moving,” Gina said, still shaking.
For the rest of the night, all Joseph could think was the unbelievable creature. Was that really his best friend? How? Why? Where did he go? Why didn’t he kill Gina and him? Would he return?
Ica wrote: "Okay, here is mine. I hope you like it.Title : The Creature In The Woods
Author : Ica Iova
Genre : Paranormal, Fantasy. YA
Word Count : 1603
Once Joseph stepped out in the rain, he breathed a s..."
A nice horror story - the I pictured The Creeper from Jeepers Creepers when you described the creature. A fun child-friendly horror story. Good work.
Thank you, Edward. :) I grew up in Romania listening to stories just like this one told by my grandmothers. At the end of each story, I had to wait for my heart to stop racing before I ventured to the Land of Nod. My grandmothers’ stories gave me nightmares filled with spooks, specters, and things that eat you when you sleep, but they instilled in me the love for story-telling and as I grew older, chilling stories started brewing in my head.
Ica wrote: "Thank you, Edward. :) I grew up in Romania listening to stories just like this one told by my grandmothers. At the end of each story, I had to wait for my heart to stop racing before I ventured to ..."I've always dreamed of writing a good horror novel, but they always turn out tongue-in-cheek!
This is a beautiful romantic story. An exterior look is not the only thing that makes us beautiful.
Edward, as charming as this story is, it’s also very poignant in a society where shallowness is valued above true love. A lot of people can relate to not being the most attractive or not having the most fancy toys and it’s those people who need to read this wonderful story. It’s weird, because just last night, I wrote a blog entry for my Deviant Art account about how I didn’t mind being single because being in a relationship meant I would always have to live up to my girlfriend’s standards of what a good man should be. In other words, I would have to…(gulp)…conform. But it turns out what I need is the same thing Greg needed from the very beginning: a nonjudgmental woman. Thank you for giving me a story I could relate to and get behind. If I was to review this story in the Movie, TV Show, and Books thread, it would be the very few to receive an Extra Credit grade, a mark I reserve for works that blow me away and change me forever. Marie, I’d give you a detailed critique just like I do with everyone’s works, but your story this week is straight from the pages of Threads of a Web, which the two of us have already bounced back and forth with witty remarks and helpful advice. In fact, I distinctly remember joking about how Gerard and the man only known as “The President” would discuss their war strategy over a game of basketball. Can we make those kinds of jokes? Yes, we can! Hint, hint, wink, wink!
Ica, welcome to the WSS, and damn, you made your first entry in style! The details of your horror story are so vivid and terrifying that I actually started to get a nervous feeling in between my chest and stomach. The fact that Raul can come back in his creature form and torment the kids anytime he wants to is even more terrifying. Joseph has to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and that’s a feeling of paranoia nobody can live with. Congratulations on a heart-pounding first story! I’m not sure if you’re a published author or not, but you deserve to be one, most definitely!
Garrison wrote: "Edward, as charming as this story is, it’s also very poignant in a society where shallowness is valued above true love. A lot of people can relate to not being the most attractive or not having the..."Thanks Garrison - I wasn't that happy with how this story turned out (I almost scrapped it and wrote something else, and you may have noticed I haven't proof read it so there are likely to be lots of errors). I'm glad that at least one person found it heart warming. :) That's what writing is all about!
You're being too hard on yourself, Edward. You did good. :)
Thank you so much, Garrison, for your kind remarks. You truly made my heart sing, and yes, I am a self-published author of nine books, one of which was a finalist at World's Best Story in 2014.
Garrison wrote: "You're being too hard on yourself, Edward. You did good. :)"Cheers fella. I think I was feeling sad because I finished proofreading my book COUNTDOWN, which I had so much fun writing! It's sad when you have to put your baby to bed. :.-(
Edward wrote: "Cheers fella. I think I was feeling sad because I finished proofreading my book COUNTDOWN, which I had so much fun writing! It's sad when you have to put your baby to bed. :.-("I had the same feeling when I had to cancel a dark fantasy story I wrote called "Fireball Nightmare". You're not alone, Edward.
Ica wrote: "Thank you so much, Garrison, for your kind remarks. You truly made my heart sing, and yes, I am a self-published author of nine books, one of which was a finalist at World's Best Story in 2014."Congratulations on the honors, Ica! :)
Thank you, Garrison. I just finished reading your story. What a twist you pulled there at the end. I didn't expect that.
It's good to catch people off guard from time to time. Thanks, Ica! :)
Title: Prisoner of AcheronAuthor: Angie
Words: 1,673
Feedback always welcome. This story takes place in the same universe and solar system as last week's story, but stands independently (so, you don't have to read The Ninth Planet to understand). Note: the chemical formula for silicon carbide is CSi, which I thought was cool. If there are any Whovians here, you know where I got most of these names.
A constant murmur echoed through the halls of the prison, carried endlessly by the silicon carbide walls. Acheron was the universe’s ultimate prison, reserved only for the very worst of humanity, for whom death was too merciful. The convicts were not given any access to the outside world, or even each other, for that matter. Instead, they were paralyzed using a drug known only as Remorse, and locked in lightless “coffins” —— claustrophobic slots in the walls built like morgue drawers. Remorse, while disabling the prisoners, also kept them conscious indefinitely, never allowing them to slip into the comfort and escape of slumber.
These monsters of society were left to contemplate their actions until their bodies withered away into husks (a side effect of administering Remorse) or their sanity shattered from constant consciousness——whichever happened last. Only then were their bodies pulled from their coffins and tossed into a furnace for mass cremation. Often, the prisoners were still alive when they were cremated, unable to move. Their brainwaves were just jumbled electrical signals monitored by the electrodes that had been implanted into their prefrontal lobes upon arrival at Acheron. The ashes were not even allowed to be removed until the electrodes no longer detected brain signals.
Ian wasn’t sure how long he had been in his coffin; the space was pitch black and no light was allowed to shine in. No way to measure time. It was like lying in the vacuum of space. The set-up was most likely to push the prisoners towards insanity all the sooner. His few reassurances that he wasn’t drifting endlessly through the vast nothingness were the feeling of cold metal at his bare back, the IV drip feeding the bare minimum of nutrients into his body (along with his regular doses of Remorse), the almost imperceptible sound of the vents replacing the stale air in the coffin, and the sounds of the guards on patrol outside, in the world of the living.
The footsteps on the CSi reverberated easily through the coffin’s walls, omnipresent, as comforting as the sound of his own heartbeat. I haven’t broken yet, he chanted silently as he counted the steps and attempted to synchronize his heartrate with the regular beats.
One day, Ian assured himself, they’ll realize they convicted the wrong man. You’re innocent.
But days, weeks, months, decades——he had no way of knowing which——passed and still, there was nothing. Occasionally, a thundering boom followed by a softer click alerted him that another poor soul had just been locked into a coffin. He thought of the business he had been building before this mess; it had been massive and sprawling. The space vessels he had designed were the best in the universe, had been coveted in all of the inhabited galaxies, and had made Ian Harkness richer than some planets.
Yet this knowledge offered no comfort in the cold isolation of the coffin.
Ian tried to design new vessels in his mind, imagining innovative shapes to better handle interplanetary gravitational forces and maneuver through perilous asteroid belts. This activity kept him occupied for a while, but soon it failed to make him feel alive. The oppressive and never ending darkness of the coffin began to feel as if it was slowly closing in on him, ready to swallow him into the abyss, to exact payment for a crime he had not committed.
Only the memories of Gwen and their son, Connor, reminded Ian what it felt like to be human. Yet these thoughts brought with them their own kind of guilt: they always circled back to the moment Gwen had begged him not to leave. She had clutched their baby boy to her chest and clung to his hand.
There is no future in building space vessels, she’d argued. The big corporations never let competition survive for long. Stay with us.
How proud he had been when his company had taken off and made him rich. Ian had felt like he had proven Gwen wrong, and that it was her fault for not believing in him, for not supporting his dreams.
Now, that sense of accomplishment did nothing to fight off the growing despair in his soul.
More than anything, he wished that he had listened to Gwen. That he had stayed to marry her, to raise their son together as a family, maybe even have more children.
But in his stupid pride, Ian had left all that really mattered.
After the fifth Ganymede bombing, Ian’s entire world had been turned upon its head. Intergalactic forces had arrived on his doorstep, claiming that they had found proof that he was responsible for the Ganymede attacks, seven of the bombings on Callisto, and four of the bombings on Jupiter itself. The evidence was circumstantial at best, but when a man was blamed for the deaths of fifty-eight billion people, how could a juror possibly vote “not guilty”?
All he had left was the interminable darkness and the sounds of his coffin. Sometimes, he dreamed——he preferred to think of it as dreaming, because it made it seem like one day he would wake up——that he had heeded Gwen’s advice. Ian imagined her walking down the aisle, wearing silver like all brides, a marriage sapphire cupped in her palms. Conner followed behind her, holding the train of her gown. Ian imagined teaching Conner how to pilot a solar ship. Taking him up in the lower atmosphere to show him how to use a space suit. Helping him learn where the colonized moons and planets were. Doing the things a father should.
Instead, Ian lay wasting away in darkness: the future that could have been, gone forever.
When he finally felt his mind slipping from his grasp, a sharp click echoed through his coffin. This is it, he thought. I’ve finally lost it. Sweet oblivion, take me.
Blinding light filled the tiny space and he tried to recoil, but the Remorse still held his limbs firm. He shut his eyes as best he could, but his eyelids still burned like flame. Voices swirled around him, louder than he had ever heart before, and hands crawled over his body, removing his IV and replacing it with another.
“Mr. Harkness. Mr. Harkness,” they said. Eventually, the clamor focused into a single voice, brisk and professional. A woman’s. “My name is Martha Rose and we’re going to get you out of Acheron; you will be the first prisoner in the history of the universe to be released from this prison. An antidote to Remorse is being injected into your body as I speak. In three to four hours, you will regain control of your mouth and vocal cords. Ten to fifteen hours after that, mobility will begin to return to your limbs and within forty-eight hours of that, you should regain full control of your body. Do you understand, Mr. Harkness? Blink once for yes.”
With Herculean effort, he opened and closed his eyes once, and returned to listening to the cold voice.
“You have been cleared of all charges. Evidence has surfaced showing that you were framed for the terrorist attacks by a rival corporation. For your wrongful imprisonment, the allied governments of Jupiter, Neptune, and Uranus will compensate you four thousand bitcoins per hour you spent in paralysis——this comes to a total of B245,500,000. Your previous company holdings of B17,098,152,697,152,738,090,000 will be returned to you and your license for the manufacture and sale of interstellar space craft has been restored. While the Remorse is working its way out of your system, I will explain the finer points of logistics and legal matters involved in clearing your name.”
As Martha Rose droned about protocol and required periods of therapy and drug rehabilitation, et cetera, Ian wished that Remorse would allow his to zone out and ignore her. But part of the drug’s punishment was that it forced its victims to hyper focus on everything around, beyond the capabilities of the human mind to withstand for long periods of time. When he was finally able to move his lips, Ian only had one question for the woman.
“Where is my family?”
“My files say that you lived alone before you arrest, with no existing romantic relationships, that your parents were killed after an asteroid destroyed their space craft on the way to Neptune when you were nine, and that you have not been in contact with your siblings in thirteen years.”
“My wife and son.”
“You were never married, Mr. Harkness. This is quite alright. Confusion and the inability to separate fantasy from reality are normal symptoms for those have been exposed to Remorse for extended periods of time.”
“No. We were going to get married. But I messed up. Her name is Gwen Tyler. And our son’s name is Conner. But I—I—I can’t remember which last name we gave him.” Ian began to tremble; if not for the paralyzing powers of Remorse, he would have curled into a ball.
“Give me a moment to locate them on the universal database.”
“They were living on Io when I—when I went away. But she always talked about moving to Europa, where her brother lives.” The room was quite save for the soft whir of Ms. Rose’s holoscreen. But even after that fell silent, the woman said nothing. “What is it? Where are they?”
She swallowed thickly. “Gwen and Conner Tyler were murdered in their home six and a half years ago, after you were convicted and sentenced here to Acheron. The words ‘Devil’s spawn’ were written on the walls with their blood. The boy had been dismembered.”
Ian let out a gut-wrenching moan, unable to even move his body to lash out at anything, anyone. “They were killed because of me,” he wept.
Seven years he had spent locked in his coffin, dreaming of freedom. But he had not realized that what he really wanted was a chance to start afresh with Gwen and Conner. Now, he had been robbed of even that.
Angie wrote: "Title: Prisoner of AcheronAuthor: Angie
Words: 1,673
Feedback always welcome. This story takes place in the same universe and solar system as last week's story, but stands independently (so, you ..."
Another well written sorry, and such a terrifying notion that, to be fair, could happen to anyone even in this day and age.
Title : TraitorAuthor : Deepak Charles
Length : 1818 words
Rating : PG-13 for mild swearing. (I'm not used to giving these ratings by the way)
Instead of the exhilaration that usually accompanied flight, a feeling of dread bubbled inside Charlie. “I hope Madeline isn’t hurt. I can’t forgive myself if something happens to her,” he thought. Clenching his fists, he pushed himself to go faster. His earpiece started buzzing. He knew that with the protective force shield he was creating around himself, he could answer it without much of a problem. He slowed down to a stop anyway and hovered in mid-air. He tapped the earpiece to answer the call.
“Charlie, Dilip is trying to call you. Do you want me to direct it as a voice call?” asked Mia. “Yeah Mia, make it a voice call. I don’t want him to see me.”
“Well, Mr. Summers, it looks like you have listened to reason. My satellites detected you in flight towards my island. What? You thought that you could fly under the radar and surprise me? You are not the only one with Atlantean technology,” said Dilip.
Charlie felt his anger start to increase in intensity. It was always as if he was a step or two behind Dilip. Trying his best not to show his anger, he replied, “I need Madeline safe, Dilip.” He added sarcastically, “Forgive me for starting without talking to you.”
“Well well, there is still some spirit left in you. It is a pity that I want to kill you because I am starting to like you. Now, get to my suite as soon as you can,” said Dilip and he cut the call without waiting for a response.
Charlie’s anger grew at the abrupt end to the call and he pushed off again in the direction of Dilip’s island. His rage boiled inside and it gave him the determination to push himself more and he found that it helped. He broke the sound barrier and he found that he could go faster. A simple calculation told him that it would take him a few hours to get to the island since it was off the east coast of the United States.
A little more than three hours later, Charlie was on a transport pod that was weaving around the island, making its way to Dilip’s suite. Trying to maintain an air of calmness, he spoke, “Dilip, I know you can hear me. Why can’t you make this thing go faster?”
Dilip’s voice seemed to emanate from all over the pod. “Mr. Summers, I suggest you to enjoy the scenery here, for it might be the last time you see it.”
“Calm down,” Charlie said to himself. “Calm down. He’s just trying to get into your mind.”
In a few minutes the pod reached Dilip’s suite. The doors opened and Charlie stepped out to see Dilip sitting on a sofa with his legs crossed. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” said Charlie as he walked towards Dilip.
“Well, then you will not be able to hear my side of the argument. And also if anything happens to me, you can kiss your sweet aunt goodbye.”
Charlie stood a few feet away from Dilip now, staring at him. “Come on Charlie. Lighten up. It is the end of the world as we know it. Well, it will be unless you die,” said Dilip as he stood up. “Walk with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I see Madeline,” said Charlie resolutely.
“Well, I do not have a problem with that. You are cut off from everyone. So do not think of trying to transmit your location, Mr. Smarty-pants. I am still going to talk to you as we get to the hold. I do want you to listen to me because I am going to come clean with you now, Charlie. It is time you know what has been going on behind the scenes.”
Dilip tapped his ear and said, “Una, prepare the transport pod.” He then turned to Charlie whose gaze hadn’t softened. “So tell me Charlie. Why did I send all the people to Mars? What do you think?”
Charlie spat, “I don’t know. I don’t know you. Did you do it to win over everyone? Or did you do it so you can rule Earth like a dictator?”
Dilip sighed, “You have been tainted by opinions that are not yours, Charlie. The world went through a devastating civil war. Lack of food and lack of a proper government to rule the world and what do you think the people who called themselves the UN did? Nothing, nothing at all. Not to say that I was helping. But I knew that I had to do something. I started walking the earth as they call it, looking for answers.” He was interrupted by the transport pod. The doors opened and Dilip walked in. He gestured Charlie to join him.
Charlie walked into the pod and stood facing the door. He didn’t want to look at Dilip’s face. The doors closed and the transport pod smoothly exited the suite and started moving. “So what do you think I found?” Dilip continued. “Let me guess, your epiphany?” asked Charlie derisively.
“It was a paradigm shift, Charlie. What have we always thought? It has always been thought that mankind can change; that we will understand that we are not advancing fast enough to keep our planet safe; that we would colonise the solar system before we run out of resources. We cannot. We have changed from beings that stay in equilibrium with the planet to the monsters that we are today.”
Dilip paused. He leant back against the handrails and continued, “Have you never thought why I speak differently compared to you all? It is because of the Atlanteans. I have been in cryogenic preservation for years after I stumbled upon them by accident in the Himalayas. They saved my life. They said that I was the first human to make it to their location, half dead as I was.”
“After I regained health, we spoke at length. They have seen generations of mankind. Nothing has changed over the years. They had seen people of worth and they tried to reach out to them. But nothing had worked out, until I got there. They saw my potential and…” Charlie interrupted his monologue, “made you their lackey?”
“Hardy har har,” said Dilip. “They saw my potential and gave me all the resources to achieve what I have done so far. I have done everything I had planned to do, except…” He paused, turned to face Charlie and continued, “Bloody Gedanke got their hands on your suit. The Atlanteans need it, Charlie and they are not telling me why. But when you have been with them for as long as I have, you realise that you are better off listening to them instead of questioning them.”
“Do you realise you sound whipped?” asked Charlie. Hoping to get under Dilip’s skin, he continued, “They’ve treated you like a slave and you’re talking it as if you’re some sort of saviour. Give me a break Dilip. They’ve got you eating out of the palm of their hands and you’re proud of it.”
Dilip said simply, “Just you wait, Charlie Summers. War is upon us if you do not surrender. You can save your family, your friends, and probably a few more people. What about the other people on Earth? What about the Martian settlement?”
Charlie was silent a minute before he asked, “Why did you send the people to Mars? You never answered that.”
Dilip replied with renewed vigour, “I was waiting for you to ask that. Earth was running out of resources after the civil war and I had the Atlanteans use their tech to terraform Mars into a liveable colony. It would have been impossible to do it with the technology that we have.”
“And after that, I sent the people who did not deserve to be on Earth to Mars; the uncaring; the scum. I did not care if they were rich or poor. If they were not helping the condition of Earth, I sent them off to Mars. It only took a bit of telepathic coercion, courtesy the Atlanteans. The people who stayed are the people who care.”
“And here we are,” announced Dilip as the pod doors slowly stopped. It was a dimly lit and long hallway with doors on either side. The two stepped out of the pod and Charlie waited. “It is the last door on your left this way. Una will open the door. No funny tricks, Charlie,” said Dilip as he pointed in the direction of Madeline’s cell. Charlie broke into a run and as he neared the last room, the door opened to reveal Madeline chained to the lone chair in the room.
Charlie’s sensors instantly kicked into high gear to see that her pulse was low but they did not read any physical injury. He ran into the room and knelt down to hold her hands. Madeline stirred and looked around to see him. She said in a slightly slurred voice, “Charlie. I made you come. I’m so sorry.” “She’s drugged,” he thought. He spoke softly, “No no. I’m sorry, aunt Maddy. I should have never agreed to that godforsaken mission.”
Slow clapping from behind him made Charlie turn back. It was Dilip, “Such a touching reunion. I will send Dr. Storm back to Gedanke, all clear of the drugs, if you agree to deactivate your suit now. I’ll let you see her get to Gedanke safely before you have to do it.” As Charlie was about to respond, a low rumbling started in the distance. Dilip’s face showed annoyance as he tapped his earpiece, “Una, what the hell is going on?”
Una however did not respond to Dilip but chose to broadcast herself over the speakers in the hallway and the chamber. “Mr. Rogers, it’s the Atlanteans. They are attacking the island. We do not have the manpower to fight them. And now I have found that we have lost control over the weapons on the island.”
Dilip seemed to lose his cool for the first time. “Those bloody backstabbers,” he said. “Initiate evacuation protocol, Una.” Una didn’t respond. “Una?” he called again. Instead a robotic voice spoke, “Rogers, it is 20. We did not trust you enough with the weapon. Ask him to come up or we blow the entire island to kingdom come.”
“Such a pity you trusted them,” said Charlie. Dilip didn’t answer and he turned around and started to run to the transport pod when 20 spoke again, “Mr. Summers. We know that you can hear us. Turn yourself in or prepare to fight. We will not be merciful if you fight us. We will kill everyone you love when we win.”
Charlie knew that they could read his thoughts. “If you win,” he thought as he created a force shield around Madeline.
I have to say a few things about this week's story. First off, this is a sort of excerpt from the novel I'm writing. I had to change a few things so that there was no missing contextual information.
Secondly, the character Dilip doesn't speak using contractions. (Boy was that hard to write!)
Thirdly, there is a small chance for mistakes as my friend who usually reads my stories for typos, refused to read it because he was afraid of spoliers (No big spoilers in this, by the way)
And as always feedback would be awesome!
Look who's talking : An AnthologyGenre: mixed
Word Count: ~1300 words
Rating: PG13
I am waiting for my girlfriend. She is late and I am worried out of my mind. We met a year ago at the funeral of my previous girlfriend. She has been a rock that supported me through a very tough time and I cannot stand the thought of any harm coming to her.
My previous girlfriend was such a support too. When I used to be down, she will try to cheer me up. Her gentle smile would brighten my day. Her eyes would make my heart flutter. A single kiss from her gentle lips would make any pain go away. I remember the warmth of her bosoms as she would hug me when I would get upset. I could still smell the strange intoxicating smell of her hair whenever I close my eyes. The touch of her hands would convey the gentleness in her heart. She meant everything to me, but did I meant everything to her? I wanted to find out. So, one day I disguised myself and strangled her from the back. The sound of her screaming my name for help, still deeply resonates within my heart. And I could see that even in her dying moments, all she wanted to do was to see me just once. Oh, how much I wanted to jump in front of her and show my face, but no. I wished that her last love should be me. And as she breathed her last breath, the feeling I felt was indescribable. I wondered if this is what they call - love?!
"Oh sorry, I am late, the traffic took forever to move, I am so sorry!", my girlfriend exclaimed with a slight bow, clutching her earlobes.
"Oh, its OK, I am just glad that you are alright. Waiting for you has made me realize how much I need you in my life!"
Moved by my words, she hugged me tightly. The warmth of her bosoms, the intoxicating smell of her hair - oh she means the world to me, but do I mean everything to her I wonder.
***************************************************
The puff of smoke formed a cloud and then dispersed into nothingness. As I sat there in the smoking section of the restaurant near the glass window, I could not help but blankly stare at the cloud as it dispersed - it conveyed the state of my mind. My editor has asked me to write an article for the Op-Ed section and I am drawing blanks. I lazily peered through the glass window at the outside world like watching an uninspiring crowd of actors on television. Just then my eyes caught hold of a young girl at an intersection. As I looked at her, I don't know what got hold of me, but I took out my note and began to write:
Darkness is defined by the absence of light. And thus, the darkness of a city can only be measured by how much light it lacks. I am not talking about the road lights that light up the road making for a beautiful spectacle when viewed from the sky on an airplane, but I am talking about the light in the hearts of its inhabitants - which create some touching moments that go viral on youtube reminding everyone to touch base with their humanity once in a while. I witnessed a young girl barely of 12-13, standing at the intersection of a road. Her clothes were tattered and through the holes in her dress, the bruises on her body peeked out as if they were shy to show the abuse this young body has suffered. The shyness of those bruises being even more evident from her body language, as she tried to hide the holes in her dress and stood their squirming, trying hard not to be noticed. Mind you, this is a very crowded intersection and she was visible to everyone just as she was to me and yet, there was absolute indifference to her state from those around. People walking around were either looking at their watch, talking on their phone, browsing on their phone or simply having fun with their friends. Their attention was too absorbed in themselves to care for another. But then, this is not just the story of that young girl, but thousands of other children, who in an overpopulated country with finite resources were simply unfortunate to have been born at the wrong place, at the wrong time or ...
Just then, a sedan stopped at the intersection. The glass was tinted and the driver invisible. A shady looking man creeped up behind the girl and money exchanged hands between the driver and the man. After which, the girl got into the car and they drove off.
... or simply unfortunate to have been born. For those born in darkness and never to have known light, how would they even know what they must seek? Will the girl ever find her hero, get on a horse and ride into the sun? For she is now used to finding a stranger, getting into a car and ride into the darkness.
With the subject matter of my article having left the scene, I decided to call my editor and ask for an extension of the deadline for the opinion piece. Then I turned away from the glass window and towards the food that had just arrived, and the whole event that happened apriori just tuned out of my head as if I had just turned off the television set.
***************************************************
Yulin is a small prefecture in the Guangxi region of China. Searching on the internet leads to some interesting information about this prefecture. It is rich in natural resources especially iron and gemstones. It also has many mineral hot springs. But apart from this, it is not really well known for much else. That is, until I came to know about the Yulin Dog Meat Festival. When I read about this festival, I could not believe what I was reading. This festival is celebrated in the summer solstice in June by eating dog meat. It is estimated that roughly 10000 dogs are eaten during the 10 days of festival. The localites believe eating dog meat wards off the heat of the summer months. I did a quick internet search to confirm some of these reports. This was abomination. How could anyone eat dogs?
I immediately sat down on my computer and started an online petition against this festival at change.org. I had found a youtube video where a chinese man caught a roadside dog in preparation of this festival. I thought it was imperative that people see such videos and attached the video along with the petition. Soon enough, the petition went viral and thousands and thousands began signing and voicing their dissent against the festival on the internet. I also wrote a blog about the same and ensured that it got views by hotlinking it on facebook and twitter.
In a few days, the issue caught enough attention of the world, so that millions of people joined me in my protest against the festival. My faith in humanity was restored. To see people eagerly joining me - a lonely voice on the internet was a humbling and yet a powerful experience. I laid back wondering how much the internet has empowered individuals to make a difference in this world.
Then, I went on thedailyshow.com. I watched Jon Stewart making a mockery of Chris Christie for supporting a bill which allows pig breeders to continue breeding pigs in tiny crates. This animal cruelty enraged me and it was suffocating. I went outside to get some air and as I walked by a Burger King, I decided to get something to eat.
"Good day Sir, how may I help you?", asked the person at the counter.
"Good day to you too", I smiled, "Umm, can I have a pork sandwich please?".
As I sat eating the sandwich, the thoughts of all that happened in relation to the Yulin Dog Meat Festival came flooding and I started feeling a little better about the world again.
Deepak wrote: "Title : TraitorAuthor : Deepak Charles
Length : 1818 words
Rating : PG-13 for mild swearing. (I'm not used to giving these ratings by the way)
Instead of the exhilaration that usually accompanie..."
I enjoyed this, and I did spot Dilip's quirks (I did the same thing with a French character in my book, as generally people who aren't speaking English as their native tongue are better at using it correctly). Agreed, it is hard to get it right, especially if you miss one contraction where there should be none! I look forward to seeing how the full novel turns out! :)
Arun wrote: "Look who's talking : An AnthologyGenre: mixed
Word Count: ~1300 words
Rating: PG13
I am waiting for my girlfriend. She is late and I am worried out of my mind. We met a year ago at the funeral of..."
Some nice writing. I especially liked the first section, which made my dark passenger chuckled to himself.
Deepak wrote: "I have to say a few things about this week's story. First off, this is a sort of excerpt from the novel I'm writing. I had to change a few things so that there was no missing contextual informati..."
I've created a few characters myself that don't use contractions and it is a serious pain to write!
Edward wrote: "Some nice writing. I especially liked the first section, which made my dark passenger chuckled to himself. "Thank you! :-) Haha, well all three stories are inspired by the stories written by members of this group in past contests. As I was writing the first one, I had a feeling that you will probably like it :D
Arun wrote: "Edward wrote: "Some nice writing. I especially liked the first section, which made my dark passenger chuckled to himself. "Thank you! :-) Haha, well all three stories are inspired by the stories ..."
What an honour! A story written for me! :D
Though I think it was someone else's story that inspired that one...
UPDATE - It has to be Zach's "The Full Story" from week 263 : Madness!
Edward wrote: "I enjoyed this, and I did spot Dilip's quirks (I did the same thing with a French character in my book, as generally people who aren't speaking English as their native tongue are better at using it correctly). Agreed, it is hard to get it right, especially if you miss one contraction where there should be none! I look forward to seeing how the full novel turns out! :)"I'm glad you enjoyed it. This story has been in my head for quite a while and it's very satisfying to see good feedback about it.
Edward wrote: "What an honour! A story written for me! :DThough I think it was someone else's story that inspired that one...
UPDATE - It has to be Zach's "The Full Story" from week 263 : Madness!"
That very well could be it! I was just working off of my memory, but yes upon revisiting, that story might have inspired the first one.
@all,
Feedback and comment on my submission this are most welcome and encouraged. This is the first time I have written something like this, so feel free to let me know what you think. Below, I will give brief explanation as to my intent behind these stories, so I would like to know if I succeeded in accomplishing what I set out to do.
Explanation:
The title "Look who's talking" is meant to be read in two ways - 1] as an idiom [A] and 2] as an intimation to the reader to focus on the narrator of the stories.
All three stories have a common thread - the narrator is just as important as the narration. In the first story, we have a brutally honest narrator. In the second, we have an intellectual who writes about indifference but is indifferent to his own indifference. In the third (which unfortunately is based on real life events [B]), we have a common man blithely ignorant to his own hypocrisy.
The attempt was to somehow make the reader shift their perspective when they realize who or what the narrator is; which is pretty much how I wanted to connect it with this week's theme.
[A] http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/L...!
[B] http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/24/wor...
Edward wrote: "Another well written sorry, and such a terrifying notion that, to be fair, could happen to anyone even in this day and age."Thank you, Edward :)
Garrison: Your piece this week has such great imagery in some parts and I love the angle you approached the prompt from. The only thing I would have to say is that Marcia and Edwin were a bit flat compared to some of the other characters you've introduced us to. But still an enjoyable story :)
Marie: That must certainly have been a surprise for the president, and definitely an interesting take on the prompt. I've always wondered if the presidents feel compelled to ask if aliens are real when they step into office?
Edward: That was such a sweet story! I loved the way you developed Greg and Summer's characters; my heart really went out for both of them. That ending was certainly a surprise that tied everything up quite nicely :)
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: Paradigm Shift
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 Melissa for suggesting the topic!