Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Week 255 (April 1-7). Stories. Topic: First Light
Thanks for using my topic, Ryan! I got it from a Starset song. And it just so happens that I have the perfect story for such a prompt. If you haven't been to the "Story Ideas!" thread as of late, this is a synopsis for a story called "The Pyrocrats". It goes like this:CHARACTERS:
Eduardo Mendez, Arsonist
Debra Cameron, Arsonist
Xavier Melanson, Greedy Lawyer
PROMPT CONFORMITY: This operation is taking place in the darkness of early morning and Eduardo and Debra’s fire will be the “First Light”, not the sun.
SYNOPSIS: Eduardo and Debra are politically motivated arsonists who call themselves “The Pyrocrats”. In the same way Anonymous affects change through computer hacking, The Pyrocrats affect change by burning things to the ground. For their next mission, Eduardo and Debra want to burn the mansion of Xavier Melanson, a wealthy lawyer who has manipulated the legal system to win litigations against impoverished “slanderers” for millions of dollars. Xavier’s mansion is heavily guarded by bouncers in suits, and yet, The Pyrocrats welcome the challenge.
Title : First And Final LightAuthor : Edward Davies
Genre : Fantasy Sci-Fi
Word Count : 1682
Rating : PG
Comments welcome and appreciated
Norman’s brand new telescope was the best present he had ever received.
His uncle had bought it for his twelfth birthday, and told him that it was the sort of present that a teenager would love. Norman wasn’t a teenager for another year, but the idea of having what he saw as a grown up present made him feel very mature. Plus he absolutely loved astronomy.
The night of his birthday, Norman changed into his pyjamas and, as a special treat, his parents allowed his uncle to help him set the telescope up next to his bedroom window. It didn’t take long, and Norman took the first look through the eyepiece, looking forward to a close inspection of the night sky.
“I can’t see anything,” he said to his uncle, sounding more than a little disappointed.
“Give it a minute,” his uncle said, looking round at Norman’s mum and dad who were standing patiently in the doorway, “You need to focus the lenses, then you’ll see something.”
Norman focussed the lenses, following the instructions that had come with the telescope, but it was no use. He still couldn’t see anything.
“Maybe it’s too foggy out,” Norman’s mum suggested, even thought the weather was perfectly clear, “You can try again tomorrow night.”
Norman frowned at his parents, then frowned even harder at his uncle.
“Why didn’t it work?” he asked the three adults, “I wanted to see the stars.”
“You can try again tomorrow night,” his uncle said, “If you’re very lucky, you might have a clear night.”
“Okay then,” Norman said half-heartedly, watching his uncle leave the room with his parents. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin as his bedroom door slowly closed.
Once the door was shut, Norman sprang back out of the bed, running over to the telescope. He grabbed the focus knob and twisted it left and right, peering through the eyepiece in the hope of seeing something.
Anything.
After what seemed like hours to Norman but had in fact only been a couple of minutes, he finally saw a light!
The first light he’d seen through a telescope.
“Wow!” Norman mouthed quietly, watching the light twinkle in the night sky. It was the only visible light in the entire area that he could see, and Norman couldn’t tell if it was a star or a distant planet. The possibilities raced around Norman’s head as he thought about what it might be. Maybe it was a star that no-one else had ever seen before! He could name it.
Norman’s Star!
No. That was ridiculous. If he could see it on what his parents insisted was such an overcast night, the chances were it was an ancient star that had been discovered hundreds of years ago.
Still, he could dream.
The next morning, Norman bounced out of bed and ran over to his telescope. He looked through the eyepiece in the hope of seeing the light again, even though the sun had been up for at least an hour.
Surprisingly, the light was still in the sky.
And just as visible as the night before.
Norman couldn’t believe his luck. If anything the light looked brighter than last night, and he was so pleased that it was still there that he raced downstairs to tell his parents over breakfast.
“I found a star!” Norman beamed as he grabbed a box of cereal from the dining table and poured it into a bowl.
“That’s brilliant, Norman,” his mum said, “I hope you weren’t up all night looking for constellations.”
“No mum, I only found the one star” Norman poured milk over his cereal, “And it’s still there this morning.”
“That must be a very bright star,” Norman’s dad chuckled, “Are you sure it isn’t a lamp post?”
“Don’t be silly dad,” Norman felt more than a little upset about his dad’s comment, “I think I’m old enough to tell the difference between a star and a lamp post.”
“It might be Venus,” Norman’s mum said supportively, “Sometimes that can be seen in the day and it looks like a star. I think they even call it the Morning Star.”
“I think that’s the Evening star, dear,” his dad corrected.
“Actually you’re both correct,” Norman smiled. After all, he did know a fair bit about astronomy, “It just depends on what time of day you see it.”
Norman’s dad humphed, not liking being told that he’d corrected his wife for no reason.
“Do you want to come and take a look?” Norman asked his parents, “You might still be able to see it. It’s really pretty.”
“Maybe later on,” said his mum, “We’ve got to get ready for work, and you’ve got to get ready for school.”
Norman frowned. He didn’t want to go to school, not when he could be playing with his new telescope and looking at his new star.
But he did what his parents told him to.
After school, Norman raced home and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. He threw his school bag onto his bed and grabbed hold of the telescope, peering back though the eyepiece at his special star.
Norman looked away, feeling confused, then looked back through the eyepiece.
The star looked even larger.
“That can’t be right,” Norman told himself, taking another look. It was definitely larger, and now Norman could make out the outer edges of the star. They flickered with light, what looked like flames licking off the edges and churning into the cosmos.
This was amazing!
He had to tell his parents!
Norman ran down stairs, where he found his mum preparing dinner in the kitchen.
“Mum! Mum!” he shouted.
“What is it, dear?” she asked patiently.
“The star,” he said, “it’s getting bigger!”
“Don’t be silly,” his mum told him, “Stars don’t get bigger. Maybe you changed the magnification.”
“I didn’t!” he insisted, “I had it set on maximum last night and this morning. That star is definitely bigger.”
“Maybe it’s a different star,” his mum suggested, “Maybe you moved the telescope and you’re looking in a different direction.”
“There are no other stars,” Norman ensured her, “This is the only one I can see, and it’s getting bigger.”
“I told you, stars don’t get bigger,” his mum insisted.
Norman looked down at his feet, thinking hard.
“Maybe it’s getting closer!” he cried.
“Now Norman,” his mum said, sounding angry as she put down her dish cloth, “I’ve had just about enough of your silly stories. Now go to your room and do your homework until dinner’s ready.”
Norman stared at his mum, wanting to shout at her for not believing him, but he did what he was told and went to his room.
But he didn’t do his homework.
Instead he looked at the star, watching it flicker in the late afternoon sky.
“Maybe it’s a comet,’ he thought to himself, “That would make sense. Maybe it’s moving towards us, not getting bigger.”
But it wasn’t a comet.
The next morning Norman bounced out of bed to check on the object in the sky. Just like the morning before, it appeared to have increased in size. Norman couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he thought he could see it rolling over and over, flames flickering off its body as it continued its journey.
It was definitely getting closer.
After about a week, Norman started noticing other strange things, and he wasn’t the only one.
The weather had become decidedly warmer, and considering it was November in London, this was not normal.
The weatherman on the news commented on what he referred to as an ‘Indian summer’, but no-one had mentioned the star, comet or whatever it was heading their way. Maybe Norman was the only one that had seen it, but after a week of watching it through his telescope, Norman could now see it quite clearly in the sky without the aid of any magnifying tool.
His parents finally listened to him and came to look at the object in the night sky.
“What is it?” his dad asked.
“I don’t know,” his mum replied, “Maybe it’s just a meteor.”
“It looks pretty big for a meteor,” Norman commented, “And if it was, it would have hit by now. Unless it’s incredibly huge.”
The next morning, finally, someone mentioned the object on the news.
“I told you it was a star,” Norman smiled as the news anchor told the breaking news story.
The story was not good news.
“A star appears to have been ejected from its galaxy at some far distance from our own solar system,” the anchor tried to explain in layman’s terms, “This may have happened hundreds, if not thousands of years ago, and the star has been heading our way ever since on a deadly path of destruction. This explains why the night sky has seemed so empty in recent weeks, in spite of mostly clear nights, as the star has been destroying star systems in its wake. Scientists estimate that the star will not make contact with the Earth for at least another fifty years, but its effects on our own sun may be felt in a matter of days. High temperatures should be expected, and we recommend that everyone stay inside. We advise you all to contact your loved ones and prepare for the inevitable”
Norman stared at his parents, who looked terrified.
“What does it mean?” he asked, not quite understanding what the news reported had just said.
“I don’t know, son,” his mother said, looking out the window at the ball of flame that seemed to be increasing in size even as she watched, “I really don’t know.”
“Are we going to die?” Norman asked, looking imploringly at his parents, “Is this my fault, because I saw it through the telescope? I wanted to see the stars, but not like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Norman’s dad smiled weakly, tousling his son’s hair as he put his other arm around his wife, “Sometimes these things just happen, and there’s nothing anyone can do.”
Edward wrote: "Title : First And Final LightAuthor : Edward Davies
Genre : Fantasy Sci-Fi
Word Count : 1682
Rating : PG
Comments welcome and appreciated
Wow, poor Norman. Discovering something so cool only to have it spell the end of the Earth. This took an unexpected turn, one that I found highly enjoyable.
Nice job!
Title: Dawn's First LightAuthor: Marie Krepps
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 1634
Rating: PG 13
Please let me know what you think!
“Who else knows?”
“I… I don’t know. I only told my dad. I just thought he was strange, that’s all.”
The girl made strangled sounds as the pressure on her throat tightened. Her eyes grew impossibly wider and Lionel noticed her thick, perfectly curled eyelashes. He could understand why his son had become infatuated with her; the girl was a rare beauty. High cheekbones, raven hair, and a soft voice that was sure to draw any young man’s attention. But the boy had been careless and now they would all suffer the consequences.
Lionel knew what he had to do next, though he took no pleasure from the thought. With a simple twist of his wrist, he snapped the teenager’s neck. Instant guilt clawed at his insides but he ignored the feeling. It was necessary. She knew too much. But that didn’t mean he had to carelessly toss her body to the floor before he left. No, Lionel, ever the gentleman, laid her carefully on her bed, crossing her arms over her chest. With two fingers, he closed her eyes so that she appeared to merely be sleeping. She was only a girl after all, not even out of high school yet. Lionel stared at her still form and a shiver passed through him.
Then he hurried downstairs to deal with her father.
It was 5:20 am. Leon would still be out stalking his night’s kill. He was always one to cut it close, arriving home just before morning, worrying his mother half to death. When he came home at all. But Roberta would be there. She arrived early to chat with the servants and make sure the house was battened down for the day. His wife was always home by five.
Hands shaking, Lionel grabbed for the telephone on the wall but the receiver slipped from his grip. Puffing out air in frustration, he wiped the blood that drenched his palms on his pants legs, only allowing himself half a second to dwell on the fact that these particular trousers were the most expensive ones he owned. They’d been tailored specifically for him and had cost a pretty penny. His favorite, now ruined. But that didn’t matter now.
Nearly tangling the cord of the telephone as he grabbed it up again, he punched in the number to his house and waited. Waited as it rang. And rang. With every ring his hand shook more. With every passing second the fear became more real. He knew the feeling well, like someone was squeezing the organs in his belly, squeezing until he reacted. Or vomited.
“Please, Roberta. Please just pick up the telephone.”
Brrrrrring. Brrrrrrrrring.
The father had known more. The father had known too much. Lionel had taken his time with the middle aged man as he spilled his secrets. This man, Henry, knew what they were. It had taken him a few weeks after his daughter started dating Leon but he had made the connection. The boy only visited at night. He didn’t attend his daughter’s school though he lived in the area and was her age. He was unnaturally pale. He never ate dinner with them.
And then Henry told Lionel the detail that made the vampire’s balls shrivel to the size of raisins. He’d known Roberta. He had worked at the facility that had kidnapped her all those years ago. Lionel felt a sudden rush of anger at this news. They had done experiments on her while she was pregnant. They had tortured her. She still woke up with screaming nightmares about that place. Lionel almost choked the man to death right there but fear hit him like a douse of cold water to the face.
If this man had survived the destruction of that god-forsaken place, it was a safe bet that he still worked for the government. After a few more minutes of convincing, Henry told Lionel everything.
“Pick up, love,” Lionel whispered again. The ringing was suddenly cut off and the line went dead. At that moment, as he stood there in a stranger’s home with blood on his clothes and mouth, he knew. His body went rigid as the realization hit him. And only a second later he felt the terror. Roberta’s terror.
He heard her screams in his head and rushed for the door. He made it half a block before the sky grew orange. He slowed, forced to search for shelter, the sky pink now.
They’ll capture her again. They’ll take her away. But I’ll find her. We rescued her before, we can do it again, he thought as he broke into a small, seedy looking pub. Rushing to one of the back rooms, locking himself in, he tried to calm his heart and slow his breathing. They’d find her. If he had to call his brethren to assist again, they’d find her. Leon must be safe somewhere else.
As the first light of morning broke over London, Lionel was sitting in a janitorial closet, cleaning blood from his face. Screams sounded in his head again but this time they’d taken on a new pitch. These were screams of pain.
“No. NO!” the vampire yelled. His hands instinctively went to his ears but the sound could not be muffled because it was broadcast directly into his brain. His wife, his lover, the mother of his child, the woman he had brought into this world of darkness was burning to death in the sun. And he was helpless to stop it. He was forced to sit and listen to her agonizing shrieks as her body burned away. He could do nothing but sob and beat his head against the wall as the life left her body.
He knew the moment she was gone. A feeling arose in his chest, like his lungs swelling with air, a bubble of emotion emerged and then it was swiftly popped. Lionel cried freely, memories of his time with Roberta assaulting his brain. The way her face had looked in the light of the moon on the night they first met. Her tiny hands picking up a paintbrush, the quick movements as she spread paint over canvass. The feel of her fingers running through his hair. The smell of her hair as they lay on the grass of the moors. The half-smile she would give when he had angered her. The sounds of pleasure that rippled from her throat when they made love. Her arms circled around Leon when he was a baby.
Lionel bawled and shook, his grief trying to consume him. A thought rose to the surface and he allowed himself to dwell on it. He could join her. He could run out into the light of day right now. What was to stop him? But the answer came to him before he could even rise to his feet: Leon. He had his son to think about. The boy was only fifteen. There were others who could take him in, sure. The coven in America would welcome him with open arms. Lionel’s brother William, though he was in hiding himself, wouldn’t hesitate to help if he was called upon.
But no. Lionel couldn’t leave his boy to someone else. He couldn’t abandon his only child because he was suffering. The old Lionel, the selfish womanizer would. But Roberta had changed everything. Meeting her had been a turning point in his life. She had sacrificed everything to be with him. She’d made him a better person. She’d given him a son. And Lionel knew he couldn’t just give up. Leon needed him.
The vampire continued to cry but silently now, pulling his knees up to his chin and curling in a ball as a child would. He was empty now. The light in is life had been extinguished. He would live, he would try, and he would do his best to be a good father. But he would most likely fail. He loved Leon but his love for Roberta had been greater and though he knew that might be wrong, he was also certain that nothing could change that fact. Lionel would live on but he would be broken and nothing would ever take away the pain of this loss. No amount of time could heal this wound.
Lionel cried most of the day, pinkish tears mixing with the blood on the collar of his shirt, grief grasping him firmly with both hands. Just before dusk there were sounds of people moving around the front of the pub. The vampire stood and brushed himself off, using a cleaning rag from a nearby shelf to wipe the remaining blood and tears from his face and hands. The smell of chemicals was strong in his sensitive nose but he paid it no mind. Unlocking the door and exiting out a window, he tried to get his bearings as he reached out with his mind. He had to find Leon. He knew where some of the boy’s daytime hiding spots were but he was sure that there were others he kept secret. He let the probing fingers of his mind scour the city for a hint of the familiar brain waves of his son.
They couldn’t go back home now. The knowledge didn’t bother him until thoughts of Roberta’s things came to mind. The idea that all of her paintings were now lost to him almost stopped him in his tracks. But he couldn’t risk going back for them. Hell, the humans may have burned their home anyway. No, now he must find Leon and leave this place. It was time to move again.
The sky darkening more and more, Lionel sped through the streets of London, listening for his son, his broken heart wishing only to lie still in his body.
This is my short story submission for the topic: First Light. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!
First Light Festival by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 655
Flora sat on the patio chair, a big frown on her face. She couldn't have done any worse. She had practiced and practiced for weeks on end but she had choked. The committee wouldn't dare select her now. Her dream was slowing flitting away.
Miss Flossie chose the chair across from her student. "Why so glum, little one?"
Anger surged through Flora's tiny body. "Didn't you see?" She yelled. "Weren't you watching me fail?"
Bracing herself against the armrest, Miss Flossie understood the emotions. She had failed herself when she had tried; three times actually. Shame, embarrassment, hurt, anger. A dark, ominous rainbow had swirled about her for months after each attempt.
"I thought you did quite well."
"No, no I didn't." Flora shook her head as a tear escaped her left eye. "Forest was awesome. The judges are sure to give him a high score. Franklin was really unique too. I've never seen those kinds of moves before."
"Forest tried last year and didn't make it, this is his second attempt and Franklin's father won four years in a row. He probably has the same genes." Miss Flossie's comforting words were anything but comforting.
"I should have never tried that flip. I could never do it exactly right in class, remember?"
Unfortunately, Miss Flossie did remember.
"I went flying through the air, did the flip and fell right to the ground." Flora sobbed, her heart beating wildly.
"But you weren't hurt and you got right back up and continued on. You were brave."
Flora rolled her oil-black eyes. "The show must go on, right?"
Removing herself from her patio chair quietly, Miss Flossie thought it best to leave her pupil to her own contemplations. Looking over her shoulder she said, "They should be announcing the results soon. Don't forget!"
Gazing into the yard, Flora looked up into the treetops, the branches were swaying to and fro in the breeze. It was going to be a beautiful evening. She couldn't wait until dusk. She couldn't wait until ... until ...
A different emotion washed over her. Regret perhaps. She regretted the way she had reacted. It was no one's fault but her own. Many others were better and they deserved to win. She should support the other contestants.
Flora loved the First Light Festival each year. The gathering brought family and friends from miles around. Everyone sang and chattered. Everyone was full of joy and laughter. Why should it matter if she won the contest? She could still be happy and allow her light to shine.
Bouncing from her seat, Flora felt better. She was still disappointed in her performance but decided to put it behind her. She rushed to the Town Square to cheer on the competitors. She could practically hear the echoing of whoops and hollers already.
"We would like to thank each and every one who participated in First Light this year." Filomena, the event chairwoman announced. "Each was excellent in his, or her, own way but our committee has selected one very special act. The performance was not perfect but despite mistakes she returned, shining a bright light on her determination, tenacity and bravery." Filomena waved with a flourish. "Please congratulate our youngest and smallest firefly, Flora."
Each firefly in attendance buzzed with excitement. This year, Flora would be their leader. She would be first to shine upon the world at nightfall. She would twist and turn as the others tagged along behind.
Looking around, Flora was in shock. She couldn't believe she had been chosen since she had done so poorly. Forest and Franklin were the first to fly over and express their warm wishes. They were genuinely happy for her.
As the sun began to set lower and lower in the twilight beyond the Town Square, Miss Flossie beamed as she gazed at her little Flora Mae dodging chubby children and their pink, sticky, cotton-candy fingers.
First Light Festival by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 655
Flora sat on the patio chair, a big frown on her face. She couldn't have done any worse. She had practiced and practiced for weeks on end but she had choked. The committee wouldn't dare select her now. Her dream was slowing flitting away.
Miss Flossie chose the chair across from her student. "Why so glum, little one?"
Anger surged through Flora's tiny body. "Didn't you see?" She yelled. "Weren't you watching me fail?"
Bracing herself against the armrest, Miss Flossie understood the emotions. She had failed herself when she had tried; three times actually. Shame, embarrassment, hurt, anger. A dark, ominous rainbow had swirled about her for months after each attempt.
"I thought you did quite well."
"No, no I didn't." Flora shook her head as a tear escaped her left eye. "Forest was awesome. The judges are sure to give him a high score. Franklin was really unique too. I've never seen those kinds of moves before."
"Forest tried last year and didn't make it, this is his second attempt and Franklin's father won four years in a row. He probably has the same genes." Miss Flossie's comforting words were anything but comforting.
"I should have never tried that flip. I could never do it exactly right in class, remember?"
Unfortunately, Miss Flossie did remember.
"I went flying through the air, did the flip and fell right to the ground." Flora sobbed, her heart beating wildly.
"But you weren't hurt and you got right back up and continued on. You were brave."
Flora rolled her oil-black eyes. "The show must go on, right?"
Removing herself from her patio chair quietly, Miss Flossie thought it best to leave her pupil to her own contemplations. Looking over her shoulder she said, "They should be announcing the results soon. Don't forget!"
Gazing into the yard, Flora looked up into the treetops, the branches were swaying to and fro in the breeze. It was going to be a beautiful evening. She couldn't wait until dusk. She couldn't wait until ... until ...
A different emotion washed over her. Regret perhaps. She regretted the way she had reacted. It was no one's fault but her own. Many others were better and they deserved to win. She should support the other contestants.
Flora loved the First Light Festival each year. The gathering brought family and friends from miles around. Everyone sang and chattered. Everyone was full of joy and laughter. Why should it matter if she won the contest? She could still be happy and allow her light to shine.
Bouncing from her seat, Flora felt better. She was still disappointed in her performance but decided to put it behind her. She rushed to the Town Square to cheer on the competitors. She could practically hear the echoing of whoops and hollers already.
"We would like to thank each and every one who participated in First Light this year." Filomena, the event chairwoman announced. "Each was excellent in his, or her, own way but our committee has selected one very special act. The performance was not perfect but despite mistakes she returned, shining a bright light on her determination, tenacity and bravery." Filomena waved with a flourish. "Please congratulate our youngest and smallest firefly, Flora."
Each firefly in attendance buzzed with excitement. This year, Flora would be their leader. She would be first to shine upon the world at nightfall. She would twist and turn as the others tagged along behind.
Looking around, Flora was in shock. She couldn't believe she had been chosen since she had done so poorly. Forest and Franklin were the first to fly over and express their warm wishes. They were genuinely happy for her.
As the sun began to set lower and lower in the twilight beyond the Town Square, Miss Flossie beamed as she gazed at her little Flora Mae dodging chubby children and their pink, sticky, cotton-candy fingers.
Marie wrote: "Title: Dawn's First LightAuthor: Marie Krepps
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 1634
Rating: PG 13
Please let me know what you think!
“Who else knows?”
“I… I don’t know. I only told my dad. I just tho..."
This starts of like Jeff Lindsay then cleverly changes to Anne Rice. I liked the way all the death and destruction comes across so calmly, making it seem as everyday as it surely is for Lionel. Nicely done.
Thank you for your kind comment, Edward!Indeed, death is a common enough occurrence for a vampire. Reading back over this, I see that the emotion I wanted to come across strongest for the reader, grief, probably doesn't since Lionel isn't brought to life as well as I'd hoped. Live and learn, right?
These last 3 short stories I've submitted are all connected but only Garrison will know how.
Melissa wrote: "This is my short story submission for the topic: First Light. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!First Light Festival by Melissa Andres
What a beautiful story Melissa! The reader can at once relate to the disappointed little girl. It's nice that instead of pouting all night, she realized that she should be supportive of her friends.
I got the warm fuzzies from this one.
Marie, Thank you for your comments ... but Flora isn't a little girl. Maybe a second read would help. (I didn't reveal Flora's identity until toward the end.)
Marie wrote: "Thank you for your kind comment, Edward!Indeed, death is a common enough occurrence for a vampire. Reading back over this, I see that the emotion I wanted to come across strongest for the reader, ..."
Were the other two You Taste Like Salt and... Fire Hair? I'll have to re-read them and try to figure it out. :)
Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "Thank you for your kind comment, Edward!Yes, but you probably won't get the connection since they are all related to the novel I'm working on.
Melissa wrote: "Marie, Thank you for your comments ... but Flora isn't a little girl. Maybe a second read would help. (I didn't reveal Flora's identity until toward the end.)"So many F names....
Umm, who is she then?
Marie wrote: "Edward wrote: "Marie wrote: "Thank you for your kind comment, Edward!Yes, but you probably won't get the connection since they are all related to the novel I'm working on."
And so the intrigue begins... :)
Edward: It obviously involves vampires and them and other sci-fi/fantasy stuff.Melissa: Seriously, it went over my blonde little head.
Marie wrote: "Edward: It obviously involves vampires and them and other sci-fi/fantasy stuff.Melissa: Seriously, it went over my blonde little head."
It comes out when the teaacher announces the winner. She also reveals species.
It was super cute Melissa!
Arielle wrote: "Marie wrote: Melissa: Seriously, it went over my blonde little head."
It comes out when the teaacher announces the..."
Oh, firefly! I honestly thought it was the name of their group or something. For example, one of the classes at my daughter's gymnastics is called Little Flippers and that's what the teachers call the children. "Okay, little flippers, line up!"
Sorry, that's why it escaped me. I honestly thought they were a dance group for little girls and she was excited to lead them on stage during their performance.
Yeah, I can be a bit dense on occasion.
I have to stop reading these when I'm half asleep.
Marie -- Don't worry about it. I was trying to be subtle and clever and not reveal what my characters were until the end. I was trying to be mysterious but maybe it didn't go over like I thought it would. And, I'm blonde too! :)
Arielle - Thanks for pointing my readers in the right direction. Sometimes I may think something is obvious because I was the one who wrote the story but everyone else may not see it as obviously as I think they should! I need to work on that.
Arielle - Thanks for pointing my readers in the right direction. Sometimes I may think something is obvious because I was the one who wrote the story but everyone else may not see it as obviously as I think they should! I need to work on that.
Melissa wrote: "This is my short story submission for the topic: First Light. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!First Light Festival by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 655
Flora sat on the patio chair, a big frown on her..."
Melissa, I enjoyed your unique take on this theme! Cleverly done. (PS: I'm guessing you had some fun with the F-names, here, right?)
Edward wrote: "Title : First And Final LightAuthor : Edward Davies
Genre : Fantasy Sci-Fi
Word Count : 1682
Rating : PG
Comments welcome and appreciated
Norman’s brand new telescope was the best present he had..."
Very touching -- sweet & sad, and a great take on this week's theme. Nicely done.
AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: The Pyrocrats
GENRE: Political Thriller
WORD COUNT: 1,654
RATING: PG-13 for fiery violence and frequent swearing
“This country is not a democracy. It’s not a republic. It’s not a theocracy. It’s a pyrocracy and we are The Pyrocrats. Whenever the system fails to take care of itself, we burn it to the ground along with everyone who sticks by it. Tonight, we pay a special visit to Xavier Melanson. He is everything that is wrong with this country: greedy, corrupt, and all powerful. He’s a lawyer who sues anyone who disagrees with him and takes them for millions, despite those people living in impoverished conditions. His mansion needs to be turned to ashes. It is a collection of wealth he has amassed over the years on the backs of the poor. I know you two are up for the challenge. Now strike with a vengeance and leave nothing to chance. Signed, the Fire Marshall.”
This was the encrypted email sent to the “Fire Marshall’s” best and brightest: a Mexican revolutionary named Eduardo Mendez and a black power soldier named Debra Cameron. Their windowless van was parked in the forest where the two Pyrocrats were dressing in their gear: gray fire retardant suits, flamethrower masks, and two flamethrower cannons that covered their arms.
Just for shits and giggles, Eduardo “tested” his fiery equipment on a dying log. With one breath from his mask, the log burst into a wall of fire that was way too obvious for Debra’s tastes. She rushed over and stomped out the flames before they could burn the entire forest to the ground. “Are you nuts?! This isn’t some trigger happy shooting spree, Eduardo! We’re taking the mansion and that’s it! Anybody who dies during this mission will only do so if they try to attack us! Got it?”
“Hey, it’s all good, homes. I was just checking the equipment to make sure we were good to go.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let all that firepower got to your head, ‘homes’. Let’s get moving before the sun comes up.”
“You got it, sweet cheeks. That burning mansion will be the first light anyone sees!” said Eduardo with a psychotic laugh that made Debra slightly uncomfortable.
Not wanting to draw attention to themselves with a loud motor running, Eduardo and Debra traveled on foot to Xavier Melanson’s mansion. Once they were out of the forest, they knew they had come to the right place. The mansion looked like a castle out of a fantasy novel with its multiple stories, gargoyle statues, and even a gigantic golden fountain out front that sprayed water sky high with every burst.
Eduardo and Debra got down on the ground and crawled through the tall foliage for fear that the many bouncers stationed outside would catch them. And what beefy studs they were with their near seven foot tall muscular frames and suits that barely fit them. There had to have been at least ten of them patrolling the mansion. If they had guns, they were doing a good job of concealing them.
The two Pyrocrats peeked above the foliage in anticipation of when the bouncers would give an opening. It had only been a few minutes and Eduardo was already getting bored. He kept tapping his foot on the dirty ground and Debra angrily whispered at him to stop. Eduardo said in a low whisper, “We’re Pyrocrats, Debra! We’re supposed to be burning shit to the ground! What are we doing laying here in the dirt?”
“I swear to god, Eduardo, if you give us away, I set you on fire myself,” said Debra with gritted teeth.
“Who said anything about giving us away? Look over there, homes. That’s a nice looking limousine. And limousines have gas tanks. And gas tanks…well, you get the picture by now.”
Indeed there was a black limousine parked in front of the mansion. Knowing that expensive car was bought with frivolous lawsuit money made Eduardo boil deep inside. Despite Debra’s continuous warnings, her male counterpart leapt to his feet, ran toward the limousine, ignored the bouncer’s warnings to stop, and blew three streams of fire at the gasoline tank. The resulting explosion was enough to catch several bouncers on fire while blowing them back against the mansion, some of them crashing through the windows, some flying through the brick walls.
The gigantic wall of fire was reminiscent of the anger boiling within Debra Cameron at that moment. While her partner was dancing around the burning limousine and ultimately the burning mansion, she somehow found it within her to take pity on him when two bouncers were running his way to the left of him. She rushed into the scene and shot three streams of her own fire at the remaining bouncers, causing them to dance around in searing pain as their bodies were melting into black goop, just like their comrades before them.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” yelled Debra.
“Maybe I am, sweetheart! Maybe I am!” said Eduardo as he danced and laughed in a psychotic manner. His joyfulness became even more disturbing to Debra when she saw that the chubby old man known as Xavier Melanson was carrying two screaming babies as he tried to evacuate the burning building through the front entrance.
The key word was “try”, because no matter how many times Xavier kicked the front door, it wouldn’t open. The cries of the two babies, which were presumably his children, frightened Debra to where she jumped over the burning limo and rolled to her feet before running up the stairs to the mansion and kicking the door down herself. “Go! Move it!” yelled Debra at Xavier.
The portly old man carried the two screaming babies in his arms as he tried to run to safety in the grass fields. A sudden burst of fire caused him to put on the brakes and realize that Eduardo Mendez wasn’t going to let him go so easily.
Debra shouted, “What the hell are you doing?! Do you not see the screaming kids in his arms?!”
Eduardo fired back with, “Who gives a shit about them?! They’re going to grow up to be just like their old man anyways! He’s going to teach them to be greedy and spoiled and to take whatever they want and not expect consequences! Xavier Melanson has gotten away with all of his sins up until this point! And now you feel sorry for him?!”
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, young man,” said Xavier. “You’re right. I have gotten away with a lot of evil things in my life. But you’re wrong about these babies of mine. They’re going to get the best education money can buy. Everything I do is all for these children. They’re the only things I have left after my wife left me.”
Debra’s fire-breathing mask wouldn’t show it, but she had a look of sorrowful reflection on her face. She lowered her flamethrowers while Eduardo kept his trained on Xavier and his two children. The heartless Pyrocrat said, “You really think a sob story like that is going to make up for all the things you did to the poor?! I should burn your ass right here right now and think nothing of it!”
Xavier was on his knees holding his crying children while Eduardo slowly made his way toward them with his flamethrowers ready. By this time, the mansion was already a bright beacon of vigilante justice and truly the first light of this early morning. It was a smoldering burst of fire and smoke, not one square inch of it safe from Eduardo and Debra’s form of government known as Pyrocracy.
The old man was as teary as his babies when he begged Eduardo to stand down and let him go. When the Mexican savage refused, he suddenly a hard shoulder smash him in the ribs and take him to the ground. While his midsection was pounding with pain, Eduardo looked up to see that his own partner Debra was mounting him with a fist raised to the sky.
“You backstabbing puta!” yelled Eduardo as he tried to fight back with a right hook. Debra leaned backward to avoid the strike and pulled Eduardo’s mask off before shooting a fireball in his face. Debra than leapt off of her former partner as he writhed around in pain. After a while, his face was nothing more than ashes and black blood that leaked out onto the pavement below. Hopefully, the kids were too distracted to see such violence.
“Thank you! Thank you very much for saving me, ma’am! I owe you!” said a suddenly happy Xavier Melanson.
Debra Cameron pointed her flamethrowers at the old man and said, “Don’t thank me just yet. I still think you’re a scumbag who’s beyond redemption. The only reason I’m not burning your ass is because I don’t want to see those two kids grow up without their father. But now they’re going to have to grow up in a place other than that mansion. Think of this as a fresh start. And if you blow your chance at it, I will come back for you. I’ll burn every mansion you’ve got to the ground until there’s nothing left but tears and agony. Consider yourself warned. This, my friend, is Pyrocratic Justice!”
With the Armageddon-style flames consuming the mansion completely along with the bouncers, Debra Cameron and Xavier Melanson went their separate ways. The sounds of fire trucks and police cruisers were getting closer, so Debra started running back to where she and Eduardo parked the windowless van.
She made it just in time to avoid being caught by the authorities. A tin god with a badge and gun was the least of her worries. How was she going to explain everything that happened to The Fire Marshall? She could make up some story about how Eduardo Mendez got careless and was killed in action. That seemed to be the best route to go.
Title: New DayWord Count: 745
Genre: Fantasy
Comments/critiques most welcome.
“Hey Gabby! How's my favorite spirit?”
The voiceless question echoed across space and mind to reach Rael's friend and cosmic partner.
Gabby drifted closer to Rael, hovering far above the clouds of Earth, and assumed a human-life shape to give form to her being. This was a game they often played. As guardians over several solar systems, they often took on the physical shapes of entities within their realm.
“Rael, you called me over to ask me that?” Gabby laughed with warm affection. “As if I could ever be anything other than what I am!”
She gestured at the white aura that outlined the dark curly mane which floated around her silken-clad, though translucent, but definitely female shape.
“Ah, but that's the beauty of you – you're always different, it's always a delight.” The caressing tone of his words warmed her. “But lovely as you are, that's not exactly what I meant.”
A puzzled frown etched its way across her brow.
“I meant, are you ready for our next job?”
Ah, I see! Yes, it's that time again, isn't it?” Gabby sighed.
Rael reached for her hands with his. He always took on a form similar to hers. This time, his reddish frame cast a gold aura, and was covered in a pebbly leather tunic with metallic trim. Rael was fond of the Roman gladiator garb once popular on Earth and often sported variations of the theme.
He squeezed her hands in sympathy. They knew both the joys of creation and the devastation of loss; but unfortunately, one had to follow the other.
Now they drew close, holding on to each other, until they were almost merged. Moving as one, they sped across the universe, they minds melded as they approached their destination, the planet Corpor. They recalled the planet's beginnings, the joy and wonder of watching it evolve, from bare rock to the lush and various lifeforms that it had sustained for trillions of sun-cycles. Now once again, all that was left was bare rock.
And then the sun, which had been fading and flickering for some time, winked out.
As always, Rael and Gabby offered the only homage they could give to the once vibrant planetary system, their silent witness of it's demise, so that if it was ever necessary, they could say Yes, it once existed and will never be forgotten as long as we endure. And our memories are long and reach to eternity.
When it was over, Rael and Gabby slowly drew apart until their auras barely touched. They drifted in a void, bereft of light.
They waited for the third member of their team.
They didn't wait long. Ezra was never one to dally. But he never came early either.
Ezra acknowledged them both with a brisk nod. He likened himself to a patriarch, preferring to swath himself in a long white beard when he was in the mood to attire himself at all.
“Let's get to work,” was his only comment. If he'd had hands, he would undoubtedly have rubbed them together. Ezra was all business.
All three divested themselves of any artifice. Now pure spirit, with no physical boundaries or limitations, they stretched out until they circled the dead sun. And they began to spin and turn around the orb. They took turns delving deep into the dead shell, harnessing and retrieving the latent energy deep within and joined it to their vigorous dance. They spun and whirled and the gravitational force they created sucked in dust and debris, asteroids and planets, until everything coalesced into a giant mass, crackling and smoking.
Concentrating, the spirits reached deep within now, to share the microscopic speck that seeded life where none existed. Each flung their own into the mix.
And then everything exploded.
Energy rippled out in never ending brightly colored waves of light, bathing the universe with its fiery glow.
They watched the majesty unfold.
“Ah, this is always my favorite part,” Ezra said, his thoughts wore a broad smile.
“It's all good,” Gabby agreed, “But my favorite is what comes next – shaping the worlds that will come out of this and watching the lifeforms take root.”
“Me, I look forward to settling back and resting after my hard labor,” Rael said as he projected an image of himself laying back on a fluffy cloud, legs stretched out, elbows bent with his hands tucked under his head.
Gabby kicked him off his make-believe cloud as all three laughed.
WRITER’S BLOCKBy Connie D.
She searches her memories. Nothing surfaces or inspires. The frustration is becoming unbearable. At 10:30 she finally leaves her computer to eat breakfast, hoping if she feeds her brain, instead of drowning it in coffee, it will work better.
While she prepares something to eat, she wonders if her brain has stored a visual memory of when she first saw light. She considers it quite possible. For years she had been plagued by a recurring dream in which she felt cold and frightened, not quite paralyzed and yet unable to move. All the while, a figure robed in shadows looms above her while the sound of voices chanting surrounds her. She is almost certain it is a memory of her own baptism, because once she identified it as such, it simply stopped.
She eats half her peanut butter toast, and then slathers the second half with strawberry jam. Consuming it slowly, she return to the computer room. She Googles vision + fetal development, selects a reputable source, and clicks.
Scanning the results, she gleans: Week 4- developing brain tissue comes together to form two optic nerves on each side of the head and cells on the outer fetal layer begin to develop the lens of the eye; Week 8- the retina, which will eventually perceive and process light, begins to form; Week 16 -retinal cells begin to pick up on light, but the eyelids are not yet open (apparently they know this because the eye makes slight movements from side to side in response to light) Week 26- the eyes are fully formed, can open, and blink, “Shine a flashlight at your growing belly and you just might get a kick or a wiggle in return!”
None of this sparks a memory. Except the part about shining a flashlight at your belly, but that memory is an adult one.
Lying next to her husband in bed, she tells him that she thinks the baby can see and hear. She has noticed it responding to stimuli. Excitedly he grabs the bedside table light and moves it back and forth. His face falls when nothing happens. She puts her hand over his, and moves the light slowly. She takes his free hand by the wrist and places it on her abdomen. The muscles in his arm become tense and alert when he senses the movement within. Their eyes meet and a shared smile spreads slowly across both their faces.
She considers going back to bed to lie in the fetal position and meditate. Maybe that will bring her the memory she is searching for. She abandons the idea quickly. All of that detailed information on fetal development is causing her to question what the “first light” might actually be.
She decides to think of something less complicated. She tries to remember the first time she saw a sunrise, but she can’t be sure which memory it is. Does it really matter? She picks a specific one, and holds it in her mind a while.
She has woken before her companions, not by accident, but by design. His habit is to get up before everyone and go down to the beach to watch the sunrise. Her hope is to reach it before he does. When he arrives she will invite him to sit down and they will watch they sunrise together. As it slowly rises above the edge of the water and dawn breaks, he will turn to her and……
That silly school girl fantasy hadn’t played out anything close to the way she had envisioned it.
The cold forces her to return to the tent for her sleeping bag. She sits in the sand, waiting and shivering. This is not the ‘I am one with nature image’ she wants to project. She takes off her shoes, and careful that they are still visible outside the sleeping bag, she buries her feet ankle deep in the sand. Hopefully this is enough to project a desire to be one with nature. Still tired, she closes her eyes.
After a while she notices the waves washing into shore. It does not sound angry, like water being forced back and forth in a washing machine. It is peaceful and rhythmic. She smells things she hadn’t noticed before: damp air, wet sand, fish, birds, pine trees, dead leaves, rotting wood. She breathes them in with long deep breaths. The feeling of the cold breeze on her cheeks is pleasant. When a subtle warmth creeps up her face she understands that the sun is rising. She opens her eyes to greet it, and sees him walking up the beach towards camp. She no longer cares. She has become one with nature.
The peaceful feeling those memories brought back evaporates as soon as she returns to the computer and sits down. Soon, her frustration returns. She already has two incomplete stories from the previous week’s prompts. The first had grown too long to bring to a conclusion and edit before the deadline. The second held the promise of a ‘longer’ short story. If she finishes it, she might submit it somewhere.
Her brain skips through another series of memories and ideas. Some leave her feeling warm, but unwillingly to share. Some leave her feeling briefly amused, but you had to have been there to get it. Some are odd and loosely applicable, but she can see them easily becoming cumbersome. She is about to select one anyway, when a thought occurs to her.
Adhering to her own ridge definitions of “first light” has prevented her from seeing it in any broader sense. She smiles, imagines a cartoon light bulb appearing above her head, and begins typing....
WRITERS BLOCK
She searches her memories. Nothing surfaces ...........
(feedback welcome)
(Thanks to Ryan and Garrison for help with a troublesome paragraph)
Edward - Very good story! Poor little Norman, blaming himself! Maybe he will figure a way to save the Earth and all his loved ones?? I enjoyed this!
Edward, you’ve captured the feeling of childhood innocence extremely well within the 1600-plus words your story contains. Norman was so excited just to get a telescope for his birthday. When he couldn’t use it at first, he was heartbroken and the audience could feel that. Then he was excited once again and heartbroken once again all as the narrative was drawing to a close. Your audience is going to appreciate being connected to Norman emotionally every step of the way. It may even bring them to nostalgic tears, you never know. Great job this week!Marie, the familiarity of reading Threads of a Web really struck a chord with me as I was reading your entry this week. The woes of being a vampire, the anguish of losing a loved one, the guilt of having to kill someone, and the heavy burden of responsibility were all forged into this beautiful and heartbreaking story of yours. It’s a realistic take on something considered to be fantasy. It’s because of that realism that we can all relate to at least some of these moments (hopefully not the killing parts, but you get my drift). Good job, as usual, my dear!
Melissa, the agony of defeat and the toughness of self-criticism are both things we have to deal with at some point in our lives. Some people can’t handle it and resort to giving up. But I’m proud of the way Flora handled herself near the end. She didn’t even know she was going to be the winner and that temporary lack of knowledge is where her true colors shined. Did I just say “shined” in a story about fireflies? I swear that was a coincidence. Or was it? You too shined brightly when you put out this story, Melissa, so good for you!
Anne, the ability to travel freely through space and time is something I’ve been fascinated with ever since listening to the song “Million Miles and Hour” by Nickelback. Thank you for giving us all that vicarious experience! I could feel the excitement of all three spirits as they whirled an entire solar system together to create life and evolution. It always feels good to create something you can be proud of. The same is true for writing, especially your writing, Anne. You did good this week! Keep it up!
Connie, despite the fact that I keep posting synopses to the Story Ideas thread left and right, I actually do understand the pain of writer’s block. We as writers go through it at least once in our lives. We want to work relentlessly on our crafts and produce something spectacular that can be shared with everyone, but there’s that one block that keeps us from doing so. But you’ve managed to turn such frustration into a tangible story. And it’s a damn good tangible story too. It’s relatable and inspiring: two things I love the most from the stories I read. Congratulations on pumping something beautiful out this week!
Garrison wrote: Congratulations on pumping something beautiful out this week! Garrison, Thanks for seeing the beauty in the memories I shared.
Marie, I thought your story was awesome! So well written and lots of emotion for a vampire story. Bravo!
Garrison, Very well written. I am glad that no children were harmed in the making of this story! You certainly do have a vivid imagination!
Anne, What a cute story! Your characters seemed light and carefree. Might be good for upper elementary-aged kids if they are into the fantasy-type genre. Very good job!
Connie, Superb job! I sure know all about writer's block! I can get an idea in my little pea-brain but then as I begin to write, the words just will not come to me. I always write out long-time before I type up a story or poem and, believe me, I do a lot of scribbling and balling up of paper! It can be quite frustrating but, thankfully, it all comes together eventually!
Anne, Yes I did have fun with all the "F-themed" names for my characters. I thought it would be cute if a story about fireflies had names starting with Fs. Thought my story this week would be good for kiddos and that they would get a kick out of it.
Garrison, Thank you so much for the compliments! I am glad you enjoyed this. I tried to make it cute with a good lesson as well. We all need to let our light shine, even through disappointments. (Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that, but I try!)
Garrison, Thank you so much for the compliments! I am glad you enjoyed this. I tried to make it cute with a good lesson as well. We all need to let our light shine, even through disappointments. (Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that, but I try!)
I enjoyed your story a lot, Melissa! And thank you for the awesome comments on my own story! I'm also glad no children were harmed in the making of this story. Hehe!
Haha! I just had to throw that in there, didn't I? :)
Melissa wrote: "This is my short story submission for the topic: First Light. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!First Light Festival by Melissa Andres
Word Count: 655
Flora sat on the patio chair, a big frown on her..."
Such a cute story - I didn't see the twist coming. A very clever and optimistic tale.
Melissa wrote: "Haha! I just had to throw that in there, didn't I? :)"It was too good of an opportunity to miss. Hehe! :)
EDWARD - “Is this my fault, because I saw it through the telescope?" You clearly have a great understanding of children. I just don't understand why you enjoy torturing them so much! Good Work.MARIE - I loved the detailed thoughts behind his worry. It really made me connect with him and feel sorry for him. Please write a sequel so he does not have to mourn for eternity!
MELISSA - Cute & Sweet. I still get excited when I see fireflies. There is something so magical about them. Now when I see them I will remember your story and have even more reason to smile.
Title: Becky Word Count: 1346
Comments/critiques welcome
You know that moment right ‘fore you wake up when you’re half way b‘tween sleepin’ and awake? When the sun light is still soft like and ain’t blindin’ you awake yet? That is my favorite place in the whole world. There, anythin’ is possible. All my worries for the day are still far off and all of the terrors of the night have all fallen away. It’s kinda poetic when you think about it really. Your eyes are still shut but you can feel the warmth of the covers over top of ya and the softness of your pillow underneath. It’s just all very calmin’ and poetic. I always try to stay at that place for as long as I possibly can. You can’t try too hard though cause if you do you can lose it faster thada way. You got to be real calm like and kinda pretend you aint really there. Like that one time my daddy was kissin all over Leddy Thompson right in the middle of my arithmetic lesson. Momma weren’t home and Leddy had come over to help me with my numbers and Daddy had come to the kitchen to make sure I was payin attention. Leddy had given me a real hard one that took me all my concentration to get right and when I looked up to ask for help Daddy’s hands were under Leddy’s shirt and they were breathin’ all hard like. Daddy saw me watchin’ them and told me to mind my own business and do my lesson. So I did, I pretended I weren’t really there.
Daddy been dead a long time now; Leddy cried harder than Momma at the funeral and I could tell that just made Momma sadder. Mrs. Johnson gave Leddy real mean looks the whole service and I was really glad cause I couldn’t cause I still needed her to help me with my numbers. That was the first night I evea tried to stay in my favorite place longer. I was sad cause Momma was sad and I knew she would still be sad when I woke up. I wanted to stay where I could pretend everything was just dandy and Momma was happy.
Momma and me did alright fo’ a while by ourselves. Mrs. Johnson would give me washin’ to do for some extra money while Momma worked at the plantation pickin’ cotton. Sometimes, I would pick cotton with her on Saturdays. I liked going with her because I would play hide and seek with the Negro girls my age. They tried to teach me how to make flowers out of sweet grass and I showed them how to climb trees. But we never talked to each other if we saw each other in the store.
Me and Momma did that for ‘bout a year then Momma married baker Tim. He was a nice plump man who never made me take off his shoes and rub his feet or watch me change clothes through the crack in my door like Daddy did. That’s when Momma and me started workin’ in the bakery but I was still doin’ some washin’. I did it for three ladies by then cause Mrs. Johnson told them how clean I got her under things. Me and Momma were real happy livin’ with baker Tim. Momma finally fit in all her dresses and lost the dark circles under her eyes. I don’t know how she slept so good though cause baker Tim could snore louder than a Louisiana hurricane! They were sleepin’ the summer the bakery burned down. I was finishin’ my laundry deliveries, I had worked up to seven ladies, and I always left Mrs. Johnson’s for last cause we would sip lemonade on her front porch and she would tell me stories. She held my hand at their funeral and let me stay with her until the men had finished building me a little one room house of my own behind the new bakery. I liked livin’ with Mrs. Johnson. She had a room that looked over the meadow between the town and the plantation. Six whole miles of nothin’ but wild flowers. Somehow I think sleepin’ next to all ‘dem beautiful things helped me stay in my favorite place for as long as I ever did. It didn’t make me miss Momma less though.
Everyone thought I would run the bakery when it opened but I wasn’t much one for it. I kept to my washin’ and now I do practically everyone’s. Baker Bob came to town that fall and that’s when Leroy moved in with his momma too. Mrs. Johnson had told me stories ‘bout her son that had went to New York to be a lawyer but I never thought he could be so handsome. It wasn’t long ‘fore Leroy was joinin’ us on the porch for hot coco. Then it wasn’t long ‘fore Mrs. Johnson was findin’ more and more reasons to leave me and Leroy on the porch by ourselves. After that it wasn’t long ‘fore Leroy was walkin’ me to my little house behind the bakery. That spring Leroy kissed me goodnight for the first time. I was so happy that I could barely sleep; I didn’t need to go to my favorite place that night. He kissed me goodbye from then on. We never had to worry about chaperons cause everyone was lookin’ out for me. People would watch us from there windows as we walked by. “There goes Leroy and Becky. Ain’t they just the sweetest?” They would whisper when we passed by. Baker Bob would watch from the window in his kitchen and whenever we had been kissin’ for too long he would accidently drop a pan. It made me jump the first few times he did it. Leroy didn’t ask me to marry him until last Christmas. He wouldn’t tell me why he had waited so long but now I know it was cause he built us a house first. I still can’t figure how the whole town kept it a secret. The front porch looks right at the meadow, now I can see the flowers every day, whenever I want.
I’ve been a married women for a week now. It’s been the happiest week of my whole life. The flower crown I wore in still in the middle of the kitchen table where Leroy put it when he took it off. It’s a little brown now but still pretty. The Negro girls I used to play with made me a bouquet with sweet grass flowers in it. We still don’t talk in the store but somehow we stayed friends. Me and Leroy rock in the rocking chairs on the front porch every night; we sit close enough to hold hands. Tonight was no different but we didn’t go to bed once the moon was high. We talked the whole night and listened to the sounds of an early spring night.
The sky has just now started to wake up. Leroy’s thumb is gently stroking the back of my hand. The tops of his shiny black shoes have dew on them like the grass. We can see the early morning fog laying low to the earth. The birds have just started to sing now. There is a gentle breeze that brings the promise of a fair spring, along with the smell of baker Bob’s bread that, makes the trees rustle. It almost sounds like they are clappin’. Who would have ever guessed that the daughter of the town cheat and drunk would have ever been the wife of a watch wearin’ lawyer? In all the years of stayin’ in my favorite place between sleep and awake where anythin’ is possible I would have never dreamed this. The first rays of sun light have finally hit us. It makes Leroy look even more handsome. I feel so loved as he looks back at me and for the first time in my life I am in my favorite place and I know I am not dreamin’.
GARRISON-I love the word 'pyrocracy'. Did you make it up or read it elsewhere? I liked that Debra saved the babies, but I didn't have enough sympathy for Xavier to care if he lived or died. I didn't even believe him when he said his wife left him. I suspect he killed her.Debra should have just taken the babies and raised them herself.
ANNE-I've always wondered how the world began, but you've done more than that. You imagined it. Good job.
Garrison wrote: "AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: The Pyrocrats
GENRE: Political Thriller
WORD COUNT: 1,654
RATING: PG-13 for fiery violence and frequent swearing
“This country is not a democracy. It’s not a republ..."
Very comic booky (you even have an Xavier thrown in, and I love comic books) and full of action. There were some points near the end where I think your fingers got carried away and you missed out some words, but that can easily be remedied. Great stuff.
Connie, it hadn't even occured to me that Xavier would murder his wife until you opened the door on that possibility. I'll keep an eye on those things when I go to edit it. As far as the word "pyrocracy" goes, I have a fascination with mixing and matching Greek prefixes and suffixes to create strange words. In this case, a pyrocrat is someone who governs with fire.Edward, interesting comic book analysis there. Our admin Nicky mentioned the same thing when she first heard about "pyrocracy". If enough people say it has graphic novel potential, it must be true. Thanks, Edward!
Anne wrote: "Title: New DayWord Count: 745
Genre: Fantasy
Comments/critiques most welcome.
“Hey Gabby! How's my favorite spirit?”
The voiceless question echoed across space and mind to reach Rael's friend a..."
Like Melissa's story, this is cute and fun and I liked that Rael and Gabby were left to the imagination, while Ezra is described quite vividly. Personally I saw the characters as cut little imps, floating around the ether, doing their thing, while Ezra looked to me like nothing more than a floating white beard. The image of him lying on a cloud gave me a headache - where would he end and the cloud begin? :P
Connie wrote: "WRITER’S BLOCKBy Connie D.
She searches her memories. Nothing surfaces or inspires. The frustration is becoming unbearable. At 10:30 she finally leaves her computer to eat breakfast, hoping if s..."
A wonderful circular story, and you've picked the perfect audience. This reminded me of a story called 'Night of the Earwig' that appeared on authonomy, about how futile it was to use the authonomy website. I enjoyed both. :)
Anne wrote: "Title: New DayWord Count: 745
Genre: Fantasy
Comments/critiques most welcome.
“Hey Gabby! How's my favorite spirit?”
The voiceless question echoed across space and mind to reach Rael's friend a..."
I enjoyed this story immensely! Your simple yet eloquent wording brought my imagination to life. I could see, feel and hear their experience. Wonderful read!
Connie wrote: "WRITER’S BLOCKBy Connie D.
She searches her memories. Nothing surfaces or inspires. The frustration is becoming unbearable. At 10:30 she finally leaves her computer to eat breakfast, hoping if s..."
Great read, Connie! Every writer has their own way of dealing with writer's block. Hers is a much better process than mine, let me tell you! I enjoy your writing style.
Melissa wrote: "Marie, I thought your story was awesome! So well written and lots of emotion for a vampire story. Bravo!"Thanks so much, Melissa!
Connie wrote: "EDWARD - “Is this my fault, because I saw it through the telescope?" You clearly have a great understanding of children. I just don't understand why you enjoy torturing them so much! Good Work...."
Alas, there will be no sequel. There will, in fact, be a novel.
Arielle wrote: "Title: Becky Word Count: 1346
Comments/critiques welcome
You know that moment right ‘fore you wake up when you’re half way b‘tween sleepin’ and awake? When the sun light is still soft like and a..."
You've done an admirable job bringing this character to life. The reader is able to see the world through her eyes with such ease. Great story!
Thanks to the generous votes from last week, (Seriously, how did I get the most?) I feel confident enough to submit the short story to a few magazines and see if anyone will bite. I felt pretty good about the story when I wrote it and that is rare for me.Thanks for your votes and kind words whenever I submit whether it's a story or poem that I throw out there! You guys inspire me to be a better writer!
Marie wrote: "Thanks to the generous votes from last week, (Seriously, how did I get the most?) I feel confident enough to submit the short story to a few magazines and see if anyone will bite. I felt pretty goo..."Good luck, and keep us posted on how you get on. Fingers crossed!
Hope I'm not too late. If so, oh well, at least I can share this with all of you :)Author: Bailey Barbour
Title: Broken lights
Words: 1,588
I saw a light…
I’m dead.
Or at least, I think I am. Everything is pitch black now, and I don’t think I have ever been in such a strong silence. I can’t move. My legs, and my arms, are frozen. If I am dead, what happens now? Am I to be judged, like I always believed? What about my family? Do they know I died, and how? I…I can’t even remember how I died. This idea upsets me. I need to remember!
OK. Relax, and focus. Start with my name.
My name is Jeremy Miller. I am a captain in the United States Army. All I can remember is a light. Yes, a bright light in front of me. I was with my company of soldiers when I saw the light. The only explanation I can think of for the light is an explosion. We must have triggered a mine while going along our route. It killed my men. It killed me.
…Or had it? I start to hear a slight buzzing sound around me. I start to focus on the sound, trying to figure out what it was. Suddenly, a voice rang out of the darkness.
“I’m growing tired of this.” A deep voice said. Definitely male, and most likely an older gentleman due to the air of seniority in the voice. A soft sigh followed his statement.
“I know, sir. However, we have to keep trying. Miller is the only one that survived. He is the only one that can give us answers.”
The second voice was female. Why do I feel like I’ve heard both of these voices before? But…what the woman had said. I had survived? That meant I wasn’t dead like I thought. So, why was it dark?
Idiot, your eyes are closed.
Well, yeah. That makes sense. I slowly open my eyes, with the first thing I see being another light. I blink several times, letting my eyes adjust. Now, I see the light is that of a large, circular medical lamp that hung above me. I tilt my head up, noticing that my legs, arms, and torso are strapped down to a table. Some wires are connected to these straps, but why they are there I have no idea. I turned my head, looking around at the room I was in. Clean white walls surrounded me, and some machine stood next to my table. This machine was the culprit behind the buzzing sound I had heard earlier. A window was on the other side, and two figures looked at me from behind it. I could not tell who they were, for all I could see were their shadowy silhouettes.
“Hello Captain Miller. I hope you had a good rest. You were, after all, involved in a tragic bombing.” This was the female’s voice, and I could tell she was waiting for a response. So, I let my military formality take over.
“Yes, ma’am. A good sleep was well-needed. However, with me being fully awake now, I wish to know how I got here. As well as what happened to my men.” I truly was curious of their fate. Were they all killed by the bomb? Or could we all have been kidnapped, and this polite conversation between me and this woman was just a front? There was a pause before the woman answered me.
“Unfortunately, Captain Miller, your group of brave soldiers are dead. An air mine was thrown over your company as you traveled, and it detonated. The explosion left you all on the ground. When my team of medics arrived, we found only two of you alive. Of course, you were one of those two, Captain. The other, a private named Willis Johnson, was severely cut and burned. His injuries were too much for him, and he passed away only a few hours after reaching this facility.”
I was silent. An air mine. One of the new technologies developed for warfare. Originally, it was created by a United States team of scientists. However, it eventually found its way to the black markets of the world. A terrorist cell could have easily got a hold of some. Now, my men were dead, and I’m left strapped to a table.
“Private Johnson spoke of you, Captain.” The older man’s gruff voice interrupted my thoughts. “He said you were a good leader, and really treated the men like family.” The man stopped, and I could see his dark shape in the window turn to his female companion, who gave him a slight nod. The man’s shadow turned back to me. “Johnson also told us something else. Something about the air mine.”
“What? What did he say?!” My voice raised in pitch. I was pleading to know any and all information dealing with this matter. Yet, as I waited for a response, a tense chill swept through me. As badly as I wanted an answer, I dreaded to hear it. I have no idea why I have this feeling. This anxious emotion only increased, especially as the man started to speak again.
“Johnson was able to retell everything that happened before he passed away. He said that your company of men, Captain, were attacked without warning. The mine was thrown up into the air and detonated before anyone could react. Johnson had seen the thrower of the mine; the person was a part of your company.”
The older man paused again, and I grew impatient. “Stop stalling! Tell me who did this!” I yelled. After another few moments, the woman spoke up.
“Johnson said that you threw the mine, Captain Miller.”
“…me?” I was stunned, and I didn’t believe it. I had no memory of doing such a thing. “No. Johnson had to be lying. Or he was disoriented. But I swear to you that I would never kill or even hurt my men! I would never hurt any U.S. citizen!”
“Captain Miller, you need to calm down.” The woman said gently. “Now, we did some research on your background. We found that you were kidnapped and held prisoner by a terrorist cell. For six months, Captain. Then, you were peacefully handed back over to United States troops, in exchange for a low-ranking member of their organization that was a U.S. prisoner. It didn’t seem like a big deal back then, but it never made any sense. We had a few of their top leaders imprisoned, yet they chose to trade you for a random member that had no high-level power. Now, however, it is all starting to become clear.”
“What do you mean?” I interject. “I’m confused, and I don’t like what you’re saying.”
“Neither do we,” the man jumped in, “but it has to be said. To put it simple Miller, you were brainwashed to do whatever the terrorists wanted. They wanted to put you back into the United States so you could get to work on their plans. They couldn’t just give you back, or else risk suspicion. So they traded you for whoever they could get. You came back a hero, and regained your title of captain in the army. Nonetheless, a few months ago, you saw opportunity to carry out what they had planned for you. To kill American citizens and soldiers. You were their test monkey, Miller. And since your ‘success,’ more cases of American soldiers killing large groups of U.S. citizens have occurred. In each case, we have discovered that the soldiers responsible were all once held captive by the same terrorist cell as you were.”
The man finished. I put my head back against the table, trying to remember anything that might tell me if this was true or not. I faintly hear the woman behind the window, asking me if I could remember where the terrorists were and what process they used to brainwash me. I racked my brain, but there was nothing. Nothing but darkness. Then the first light comes through. It’s a crimson red color, and I start to hear this low humming. I can’t make out any words. The light changes to white, and then suddenly the two colors start to flash back and forth violently in front of me. The humming…it only grows louder and louder! My eyes had been closed during this, so I open them. Yet, the lights are still there. They keep flashing, and the humming keeps going! I strain to lift my arms and legs. I pound my fists against the table, and I thrash my head around. I scream out, my words incomprehensible even to me. I hear shuffling and look up, the flashing lights fading as I focus on the two figures behind the window.
“He’s losing control. You’ll have to shock him again and put him out. I’m afraid we may never get our answers from Captain Miller.” A light flipped on inside the window, and I could finally see their faces. The man was General Thomas Grimlock. I had trained under him when I had first joined the army. He shook his head in disappointment and walked out of the room. I turned to the woman, and noticed another face I recognized.
“Laura?”
She looks at me with a sad smile. “I’m so sorry brother.” I hear a switch click, and then feel the surging pain of the electricity. My head falls back, and the last thing I see is the light from the lamp above me…
…………
I saw a light…
I’m dead.
Or at least, I think I am…
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: First Light
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!
Thank you to Garrison for suggesting the topic.