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Competitions > Short Story Competition #4: Science Fiction

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message 1: by Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your (last edited May 18, 2020 09:19AM) (new)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) I will open this topic for comments on the 20th when you can start posting your short stories.

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) THE 20th (2 days from this post) IS WHEN YOU CAN ALL POST YOUR STORIES! This discussion will be open from the 20th to the 27th for your posts. Write fast, great and have fun!
Please vote on the poll for your desired genre:

message 3: by Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your (last edited May 26, 2020 07:08AM) (new)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) ANOTHER tie?
W O W !
Okay, dates are changing yet again:
The new poll will be starting today and ending at the end of the day on the 25th. Then we will have one week, or seven days to write our short stories. Our Stories are due at the end of the day on June 2nd (or until I wake up the next morning to close the discussion XD). So have fun and cross your fingers this won't be another tie!
Here is the link to the poll:

message 4: by Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your (last edited May 30, 2020 10:27PM) (new)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) Yay! We have a winner!
(Drum roll please)
You have a week from now to write: that's seven days or until the end of the day on June 2nd.
Your genre is science fiction, that means your story can include whatever you want or whatever problems, but, we have to be able to understand the genre in the first few sentences.
Make it about two pages long. We won't be technical, just make your best estimate if you're typing it straight into goodreads. Don't make it only six super small paragraphs and let's just say that the word limit of a Goodreads text box is when you've probably gone too far.
Have fun writing!

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) Post your stories herewith your name and the story title.

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) also with whether or not you are okay with your story being posted on our blog if you win.

message 7: by Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your (last edited May 28, 2020 02:51PM) (new)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) Glass: A Science Fiction Short Story
Written by N. J. Jewkes (Sushie)
I am fine with my story being posted on our groups blog.

When I first open my eyes, I see darkness.
Then information floods my mind with news and words and meanings.
I see a face leaning over me. The face wears sharp eyes and runs its tongue over its teeth.

Cylinse leaned closer to the Vixalpad, listening for a classification.
my mind struggles to classify this creature, and--though the Vixaweb claims they are extinct--I decide it is a snake. If the Vixaweb is correct about their scaly features and slithery movements, I am convinced that there is still one more of the deadly creatures left on earth.
Cylinse clicked off the audio and searched the news site for "snake". Several reports come up, but he selects the title, "Android Frees Herself From Snake Father".
This was exactly what he was looking for.
The video starts playing the MAD News theme and zooming on the smiling slick-haired man and the all-too familiar android who looked much older than twelve. But, that's how androids were.
The slick-haired man began in a booming voice, "Welcome back to MAD News. I'm your host, Corgen, and today we have a very special treat for everyone! You may have seen her before, no one like her and her thrilling life stories."
Corgen held his flashing beam as he looked to the android that sat in the glossy white chair beside him. "Once again, thank you so much for joining us for yet another interview, Blynte. And as I believe you told us last time, this will be your very last interview. Is that correct, Blynte?"
Blynte nodded, "Yes, that is correct. Unfortunately, after this special event of my life, I don't do much more than these sort of things. Not a very interesting story compared to my other memories, I must say."
"Of course not, but we're so glad you agreed to tell us. So let's jump right to it, shall we? If you're new to these Blynte interviews, allow me to give a small background.
"Blynte, being an android, has auto-recorded her entire life and graciously decided to share it with the world. But, as many of you may know, inserting glass slabs with human electric waves can give any android Artificial Intelligence... With a slight defect. Blynte's defect was her eyes. She was blind her whole life until the age of eight, I believe."
"That is correct." Blynte said.
Corgen nodded, "This means that her recordings are only audio, except for the Snake, which was the only human Blynte has been able to see until age eight. Go ahead and play the memory, Blynte."
The static leads me to where I must go. I know it understands because there is only one creature it can find, the creature that once held the static within it's very own slithery features.
I see him now. He is the only one I can see. Voices hum and gossip around me, but the Snake's voice stands out, hissing loud as ever
I approach the snake, and he pays me no mind. He doesn't turn or hear me, doesn't even care.
He should care, he did this to me, after all.
Anger boils within me and I approach quicker. I send a command to my functions that drops my knives into my palms, cut specifically for this purpose.

The screen fuzzed and a loud beep emanated from the Vixalpad. Then it focussed back on Corgen and Blynte who were standing, now, scrambling to find the problem.
"What happened?" Corgen asked.
Blynte shook her head, "There must be a glitch in my memory....Okay, found it. We're back."
I stand over the limp body of the snake, the deed done. The darkness slowly fades into light, and I begin to see. Buildings, lights, clouds, sky, people, and the most wonderful sight of all:

Blackness blanketed the room as the computer clicked off. Cylinse's eyes shone with a murderous hatred, his mouth curled in a scowl.
For Blynte, maybe. But her freedom came with a price: His freedom. All his life, Cylinse had been cursed with the defect of silence, and Blynte had just given him the last piece he needed to solve the puzzle.
When Blynte had killed "the Snake"--as she called him--the electric waves from both of them escaped, only enough stayed in Blynte to keep her alive. But those electric waves had to go somewhere. That somewhere was him.
Now Blynte would die. Cylinse didn't care how or when, but he deserved to speak of freedom, too.
Cylinse deserved to speak.

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) COMPETITION ENDS TOMORROW!

message 9: by Silver - Have a great day, you're loved (last edited Jun 01, 2020 11:41AM) (new)

Silver  - Have a great day, you're loved Oh, man, I forgot to do this! XD Could I possibly submit a story that I've already written?

message 10: by Nova (new)

Nova Syzygy (novatheproxy) | 366 comments I forgot about it, too.

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) Ariana wrote: "Oh, man, I forgot to do this! XD Could I possibly submit a story that I've already written?"


message 12: by Silver - Have a great day, you're loved (last edited Jun 01, 2020 12:37PM) (new)

Silver  - Have a great day, you're loved Cool, thanks! (This is just a fun little thing I did for a class once. Here it is:

When Field Trips Don’t Go According To Plan
By: Ariana Chanter
I'm fine with this being posted on the group blog.

“I hope you know that I am bored out of my mind right now,” I said to Lana. “I think that I might actually die.”
We were in the airlock, our usual meeting place in the mornings before school. It wasn’t actually an airlock, but that’s what we called the little room between doors. Normally, some of our other friends would be there too, but for some reason almost none of them were. Lana was backed up against the wall, reading her book. I was laying on the ground, staring at the ceiling, as I complained to her.
“I’ll miss you, then,” she replied, barely glancing up from Trollhunters by Daniel Kraus and Guillermo del Toro. I had already tried stealing it to get her to pay attention to me, but she just guarded it, laughing, until I eventually got bored of even that and stalked back to my corner.
“Why is life so bland?” I whined, sitting up and grabbing my backpack. I pulled out my favorite book, Keeper of the Lost Cities by Shannon Messenger, and I shoved in her face. “Sophie doesn’t have a boring life! She gets mind reading and a secret world, while what do we get? Math classes and homework.”
Lana finally put down her book and stared at me. She gave me one of those looks that usually meant that she was trying to stare into your soul, although that never worked with me.
I didn’t have a soul.
“You have a point,” she said after a while. “We need to find something interesting to do….” She looked up suddenly, putting her book in her backpack and then picking it up. “Field trip!”
I grinned, grabbing my backpack as well. A that sounded great. In our friend group, field trips were basically when we got bored enough to walk around the school, or when we were feeling adventurous, outside. On one, I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind.
We walked right out of the doors to the blacktop outside, and spread out to look for anything interesting. Usually we’d only find a stray penny or a lost ball, but if we were lucky we’d come across that was worth theorizing about.
Today, we were more than lucky.
“Amity, come look at this!” Lana told me, staring in awe at the thing in front of us. I caught up with her and joined in her gaping.
The thing before us was glowing, and it looked old. It was made out of a silvery metal that I couldn’t recognize, with gems studding it, making a belt of red that reflected the sunlight shining on it. As brilliant as it was, it looked like it was only the size of my palm.
“Should we… pick it up, I guess?” I asked Lana.
“Last one to touch it is a rotten egg!” she shouted, and we both dove for it. I wasn’t an athlete while Lana did ballroom dance, so logic states that she should have been able to grab it first. However, logic underestimates my love for strange things and longing for adventure. So, with my love for adventure and minimal running ability balancing with Lana’s slightly smaller love for adventure and maximum running ability, we reached the object around the same time. As soon as my fingers came in contact with the metal, a strange jolt ran through my body.
Then, Lana and I were in a wormhole.
Well, at least, I thought it’s a wormhole. When I looked at the flowing, crackling, dark energy below me, it was the only word that I could come up with.
“Whoa!” I tried to shout, but the energy seemed to swallow the sound. Still, Lana heard me somehow. She tried to reply, but I couldn’t hear her as I get a ringing feeling in my brain.
This is weird, I thought. Wait. If I thought it, why would it be in Lana’s voice?
Experimentally, I thought loudly (or tried to, I suppose, because how do you think loudly?) without moving my lips. Can you hear me?
Lana nodded.
This must be telepathy, I thought to her.
No kidding. She looked around. Where are we?
My guess is a wormhole.
A wormhole… as in a travel through time and space wormhole? Lana began to grin.
My thoughts exactly. I smiled too, unable to help it in the adventurous situation.
Well, then, how about we travel through time and space? Before waiting for a reply, Lana tightened her hold on the silver device and furrowed her brow in concentration.
The jolt ran through me again, but instead of leaving me and Lana in a rip through time and space, we ended up on her front porch.
Why here? I thought to Lana, but she didn’t show any reaction to what I had asked. Oh, right. We were out of the wormhole. “Why here?” I asked out loud.
“Well, if we are time traveling, I figured that it might not go over well to have us suddenly appearing at school show up on the security feed. Our original disappearance was probably bad enough.”
“Why not fix it?” I said, grabbling the time-traveling device and thinking not about the moment we left, but a millionth of a second afterwards. Before I completed the thought, though, I pulled Lana to be in the same position that we were in earlier.
We materialized right as we left, making it seem like nothing happened. Pretending to have just grabbed the object, I took it and stashed it in my pocket so that whatever cameras that happened to be pointing our way wouldn’t see the device.
Lana and I slinked back inside the airlock, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. As soon as we were back inside, we both went to my corner and pulled out the object that we had found on the grass.
“We need to name it,” I whispered.
“Definitely. But what?” Lana asked.
I shrugged.
“What about… oh! The Betwixt!” My friend almost exploded with excitement.
“Betwixt? What does that mean?” I was really confused.
“In the middle, I think,” she replied. “I don’t know why I said it, but it sounded right.”
It did sound right. We decided that the time-traveling device would now be called Betwixt, and just as I handed it to Lana for safekeeping, the bell rang.
“Well, then,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t wait to see what this brings us tomorrow.”

Silver  - Have a great day, you're loved By the way, Sushie, I love how you flip back and forth between scenes. You do it in a way that builds tension but isn't confusing. Good job :D

Also, assuming that we are going a poll to decide the winner, I won't be able to vote tommorow, so here is my vote: (view spoiler)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) (Tomorrow night is the deadline, so we'll actually be having the poll on the morning after.) ;)

Silver  - Have a great day, you're loved (Good to know, thanks!)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) SHORT STORIES DUE TONIGHT!

message 18: by Nova (new)

Nova Syzygy (novatheproxy) | 366 comments Guess I'd better start writing it...

message 19: by Nova (last edited Jun 02, 2020 08:40PM) (new)

Nova Syzygy (novatheproxy) | 366 comments No Future Without a Past
Author: Nova Syzygy (NovaTheProxy)
I'm fine with it going on the blog.

Her hand leaves a foggy handprint on the cold glass of the window as she removes it. Her dark hair floats around her as she pushes away from the small airlock. Gliding through the air, she floats to the planet-facing window in order to glimpse the last moments of sunset before the small station enters the night side. She lets out a small sigh as the last rays vanish.
“Enyo,” a soft voice says.
She turns around to face the person, grabbing onto a handrail for support. She tilts her head to the side.
“Enyo, focus on the task,” the computer says.
Enyo nods, and pulls herself along down the narrow, padded corridor to what she knows lies beyond the other airlock. She stops herself at a stand where she placed her helmet, which she swiftly screws onto the neck of her suit. A lightbulb flickers somewhere behind her, making the shadows dance on the off-white padding in the corridor.
Enyo pushes herself the last few meters to the other airlock, which connects her ship capsule to the station on the other side. The dead station. Peering through the small circular window, she sees a few flakes of ash floating in the small airlock.
She readjusts her gloves, and checks the readings next to the hatch. Low oxygen concentration, moderate CO₂ concentration, and trace amounts of other gasses. Low air pressure. The gas levels seem to be stable, she notes, so no leaking either. She takes a deep breath of the air in her capsule before fumbling around with the air tanks, finally strapping them onto her back and sliding the tubes into special valves in the neck of her suit and her helmet. Enyo takes a few more deep breaths, calming herself, washing away any feelings she has except for determination for the task at hand.
Checking her own life support system this time, she verifies that all is well.
“Atmosphere stable,” the computer says. “Proceed.”
Enyo nods again, knowing it can see her. She places her hands on the hatch and slowly twists it open. She enters the airlock, and closes the hatch behind her. The onboard computer will open it for her later. She double checks the readings of the dead station. Nothing’s really changed. She can see the station through the tiny window of reinforced glass. Its dark metal walls are partially covered in ice, and scorched black with soot. The explosion that happened here was severe. Ash floats in clumps and sticks to the walls.
Enyo slowly opens the second hatch, and delicately floats out into the dead station. The light from her helmet shoots tiny rays through the floating debris. It’s much more open than her capsule. She pushes herself along the wall, trying to see where the main system control box would be located. The station is an old model. She glides up to a protruding prism from the wall, and brushes the ice and grime off of it. Her white gloves are a stark contrast against the blackness of the station.
The electric box. She carefully removes the lid and pulls a few levers. A single lightbulb lights up somewhere in a corridor, but the others remain unlit. The battery is dead, and the solar panels won’t work due to the night. Enyo needs to check if the panels even work at all.
She pushes herself to the other wall, and waves away the built-up grime. She twists a few dials, struggling at the ones covered in ice, and gently floats back, listening carefully to check if the solar panels are repositioning. Nothing.
Enyo curses under her breath. The solar panels must’ve been damaged, or maybe the mechanism that controls them. Either way, this will require an EVA. She curses again.
She brushes any lingering emotion away and falls into the comforting pattern of her training. Action-reaction, cause-effect, problems-solutions. Logic needs no feelings.
An EVA means she’ll have to go out into space. Enyo shakes her head. That’ll come later. She needs to inspect the rest of the station from the inside first. It’s a small station, and should only take a few hours. She should have enough oxygen for that.
Enyo sees a few locked crates in a far corner. She pushes off of the wall, and, as she flies, passes a window. Only fifteen minutes until sunrise. The solar panels might work then, but that won’t do much if they can’t move. She reaches the boxes, and floats up to the top one. She grabs the lock, but it must’ve been cracked and filled with ice because it falls apart into halves in her hands. Enyo carefully removes the lid.
She blinks a few times.
The box is empty. Completely empty. The box has no bottom or walls. The inside of the box is the darkest, emptiest black Enyo has ever seen. The box is nothingness. Inside the box is a complete void.
She puts her hand in, and it disappears.
A high-pitched series of beeps come in through the helmet. Static, then a familiar voice: “You weren’t supposed to see that.” The computer sounds almost panicked.
Enyo tries to shake off her growing dread, but fails. She quickly closes the box and tries to float away but then


Enyo opens her eyes to a bright room tinted faintly purple. She blinks a few times and the tint disappears. The metal arms holding her retract.
“You failed,” the computer says.
“I know.”
“It wasn’t your fault this time,” it tells her.
Enyo sighs. “I know.” She sits up on the cot and stares at the floor. The void inside the box wasn’t supposed to exist. The sim had glitched, and yet it was so real. “The old Soyuz and Salyut missions won’t give any results,” she says.
Enyo slips off the cot and glides toward the door. She enters a narrow corridor that grows dimmer the further she goes until she enters another room. The room right before the airlock.
The computer speaks again, and Enyo could swear that it feels like it was right over her shoulder. “How many more missions should you go through?” You, not we, she notices.
“As many as it takes.” A low thump resounds through the dark room, coming from the direction of the airlock door. Through the small window, she sees a gray hand pressed against the glass. Dead. All of them, dead. Dead and floating in the rest of the destroyed station. “As many as it takes,” she repeats, “to save myself.” She turns away from the window--and the hand.
“Go look through the history archives again,” she commands. “Prepare another sim. Make sure I can use something from it this time.”
“Of course,” it says.
Enyo’s situation is new, but not completely unprecedented. People have gone through similar things before. And she would do anything in order to get out this mess alive.
There’s no future without a past.

message 20: by Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your (last edited Jun 02, 2020 08:56PM) (new)

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) *clap, clap, clap*
SO COOL! Thanks so much for entering, Nova! This is going to be a tough decision between you and Ariana, I liked them both so much...

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) Anyone who wants to post there stories still has until midnight mountain time!

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) That's all the entries! Great stories, everyone!!!!
Please vote:
The poll ends at midnight mountain time on the tenth.

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) Please vote:
The poll ends at midnight mountain time on the tenth. TODAY!

Sushie || "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." -William Faulkner (73687) The winning story of our short story competition is: No Future Without A Past by Nova!
I will get your story posted on the group blog shortly.

message 25: by Nova (new)

Nova Syzygy (novatheproxy) | 366 comments Yay!

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