Our new Indie Games subforum is now open for business in G&T. Go and check it out, you might land a code for a free game. If you're developing an indie game and want to post about it, follow these directions. If you don't, he'll break your legs! Hahaha! Seriously though.
Our rules have been updated and given their own forum. Go and look at them! They are nice, and there may be new ones that you didn't know about! Hooray for rules! Hooray for The System! Hooray for Conforming!
[Writing Game 2] 1 Stolen Concept, 1 prompt, 1000 words
Traikan
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
Welcome to the Writing Game 2! I had a lot of fun with the first, but then it died off as everyone moved on to new things. Well, maybe it's just me... but I've got a lot of free time this Summer, so I thought a sequel was in order.
The first goal here is to steal the opening from the original Writing Game thread.
[strike]NaNoWriMo[/strike] Summer has [strike]ended[/strike] begun, and with it, I'm sure a lot of people are feeling at a loss for what to do next. Those who aren't editing and even those who are can find sanctuary here. I want to start a game for us, the rules are simple, the only requirement is your time and skill.
Each day, I will post a word from the Word of the Day page on Dictionary.com, you will then have that whole day to write about that word. The objective is to write somewhere between 800 and 1,200 words about the word. This is not a hard and fast rule, you may write under 800 words, but the rest of us reserve the right to call you a wimp for it.
If you have any comments or critiques for the other entries then of course, fire away, but don't feel like it's absolutely essential you critique every single post.
The second goal here is to encourage daily writing in the fine denizens of The Writer's Block.
That said, let's get to writing.
The word for Saturday, July 3rd is Vespertine.
The first goal here is to steal the opening from the original Writing Game thread.
[strike]NaNoWriMo[/strike] Summer has [strike]ended[/strike] begun, and with it, I'm sure a lot of people are feeling at a loss for what to do next. Those who aren't editing and even those who are can find sanctuary here. I want to start a game for us, the rules are simple, the only requirement is your time and skill.
Each day, I will post a word from the Word of the Day page on Dictionary.com, you will then have that whole day to write about that word. The objective is to write somewhere between 800 and 1,200 words about the word. This is not a hard and fast rule, you may write under 800 words, but the rest of us reserve the right to call you a wimp for it.
If you have any comments or critiques for the other entries then of course, fire away, but don't feel like it's absolutely essential you critique every single post.
The second goal here is to encourage daily writing in the fine denizens of The Writer's Block.
That said, let's get to writing.
The word for Saturday, July 3rd is Vespertine.
vespertine
\VES-per-tin\ , adjective;
1.
Of, pertaining to, or occurring in the evening.
2.
Botany. Opening or expanding in the evening, as certain flowers.
3.
Zoology. Becoming active in the evening, as bats and owls.
Traikan on
Posts
GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
(seriously though, I will try to participate!)
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Consider the champagne bottle broken, here's my entry for amok. It's kind of related.
Let that inspiring conviction set the tone for this thread.
Amok - 930 words
Their target was just below them, in the electromagnetic core. The backwash from the massive power generator meant if they lost it here it would be like starting over from scratch. The core itself was a large room dominated by the pulsing generator. The rhythmic rumbling as the generator's rotating interior spun around the periphery of the core made the room feel like a roller coaster, constantly shifting. There were cables everywhere. No lights save the blue of the maintenance LEDs. A few boxes and containers were scattered around the room, back up fuses, LEDs or buttons and basic tools.
A lithe shape of black and metal slunk through the room on four legs, it cast its six dark eyes back and forth, searching for something. Its tail slid along the floor behind it, barely making a sound as it passed over the wiring.
Parten waited. The creature was almost directly beneath him now.
Just a few seconds more.
“Now!”
Parten roared as he dropped from the ceiling shaft, swinging his axe in a massive downward arc. Daerus charged from the adjacent room, rounding the corner in front of the beast while Nath broke from concealment behind the creature.
The Shade reacted on super-natural instinct, whipping its tail around and hooking a tool box, hurling it through the air at Daerus. His eyes went wide and he dropped to the floor, the box crashing into the steel wall with enough force to sink in and stay there.
The shade spun its head unnaturally far around to see Parten falling from above. The creature's torso twisted and in a maneuver impossible for a human it brought its arms around directly behind it and caught Parten's feet in its hands. With a shove the Shade pushed Parten's legs straight into the air. He landed hard on his back and his axe bounced away across the floor.
Nath leapt over Parten and activated the compressed shield on his left arm mid-leap. In an instant contiguous pieces of metal flowed from the small patch on his forearm until they formed a circle nearly three-feet in diameter. Nath landed in a crouch next to the Shade, drawing his sword.
The Shade let out a soft hiss as it twirled with inhuman grace, bringing its legs under it and rising to a standing position in front of Nath. Metal concealed in the creature's skin slid forth smoothly, coating its body in a full suit of armor in under a second.
Just before the helmet clamped shut the Shade let out a massive roar.
Nath struck first. He swung his sword in a series of tight arcs, the Shade deflected them with its claws but Nath sidestepped as swung, moving carefully over the stacked cables. The Shade had to step with him or risk being pinned against the wall.
Parten pulled himself back and up, getting to his feet and recovering his axe.
Daerus was fumbling around in his pack, assembling something. Nath had to keep himself from looking in that direction for fear the Shade would follow his gaze and pick up on the plan.
Parten was on his feet again, coming at the Shade from its right with his massive Axe.
Nath feinted a swing from the left, trying to keep the creature off balance, but the Shade saw through his bluff. It lashed out with a quick swipe, disarming him. Nath cursed as his sword skidded away along the metal floor. The Shade kicked out at Parten, but he swiveled his axe around and deflected the hit cleanly.
Nath brought his shield up as the Shade followed through, blow after blow pummeled him in quick succession and Nath's arm went numb in moments. He was being pushed back, and he was surprised he hadn't tripped over something already.
Parten swung with his axe again but the Shade simply pivoted on one foot and pushed the descending blade slightly with one arm, sending it harmlessly into the ground. It stuck. The Shade lashed out, but Parten let go of his axe and hopped backwards, drawing his sword.
With a bit of breathing room from Parten's attack, Nath whistled sharply. The Shade looked at Nath, then over at Daerus, then back to Nath. It caught Nath's shield to its face.
“Now, Parten, go!” Nath shouted.
Parten charged.
The Shade glanced to the right and brushed his charging attack aside with a quick strike, sending Parten tumbling to the ground for the second time. It turned back to Nath and received a dagger in the throat. The blade didn't get through the Shade's armor, but the shock of the sudden impact made the creature reel.
Daerus fired a small pistol at the Shade's exposed neck. A sharp hiss of air burst from Daerus' pistol and a steel dart shot out, zipping towards the Shade with a thin wire trailing behind it. The dart punched straight through the throat-armor, burying itself in the creature's flesh.
Daerus punched a quick command into the panel on his forearm and the wire pulsed and writhed, transmitting a huge quantity of data and electricity. The Shade went limp immediately, its armor sliding back into its skin and the electronics controlling its muscles fried.
Daerus walked casually up to the Shade, motionless save for the slight twitching of its eyes as they tried to focus.
“Cybernatic enhancement is a bit of a bitch, isn't it?”
Amok: 882 words
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Amalia:
That being said, the last line was fabulous. And it definitely felt like AMOK. I loved the shade animal thing with the armor spiraling out of its body and the tail smacking everyone around. The image of the toolbox smashing into the wall and sticking was great.
Also:
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
I was kind of in a rush to get to the fisticuffs so I just tossed in three characters without any real thought to their personalities and adding in one liners seemed like an easy way out.
I think if I were to change it I would re-write the descriptions of their actions to set them apart. (distinct combat styles etc.)
Thanks for the comments!
In response to a response to a critique:
Though it's definitely a compliment that I was both motivated enough to do that extra analysis and that there was enough room for it.
In response to your response to my response to your crit of MY Amok:
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
He stopped when everyone was dead. Lisa trembled and watched him, waiting for her turn. The man walked over to where she crouched, hunkering down to meet her gaze. Something moved behind his irises.
“Do you want to die?” he asked.
Lisa couldn’t find her voice. She shook her head.
He laughed. “I do.” Then he put the gun to his chin and pulled the trigger.
The police questioned her but she had no answers. No connection to the man at all. Only, when she went home and looked in the mirror, she saw something that hadn’t been there before. A flicker of movement in her eyes…
vis a tergo | Blog | Twitter | Blip.fm | Dropbox
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
HOW YOU GONNA PLAY A POSTER LIKE THAT?
I'll be coming around with critiques even if I can't add writing, though! BEWARE and Be Aware!
The word for Sunday, June 20th is Couvade
Why, Dictionary.com? WHY?!
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
I cannot wait to see what comes of this word.
Sorry.
It's short, I'm a wimp, etc.
660 words
He would not die literally, not right away, but he was weak. He knew it, some days his weaking body and slowing mind couldn't keep up with the demands of his work. Top level management was a youngling's game.
Ce sighed. He had lain awake all night, thinking about his past and his future.
He pulled himself out of his bed, melancholy filling him as it did each morning when he felt the strain of that simple activity. He crossed his bare room slowly, cursing his degrading vision and groping around in the dark for his desk light. He managed to activate it without breaking anything, and sat down in the simple chair in front of his desk. An ominous stack of paper stood in the middle of the desk. Ce picked up his pen and wrote. He did not stop to eat, or drink, and continued through the dawn and past the sunset.
It was late in the evening when his door bell sounded. The custodians. Ce ended his last sentence and wrapped the stack of papers in sealant before placing them in an envelope. He hastily added “To be delivered to the address of my dear friend Lu” The bell again. Ce stood uneasily, and walked to his door.
Two friendly looking individuals in plain clothes smiled at him, extending their hands. He took them and stepped out of his home.
Nothing but blackness.
When he awoke it was four days later, he was in his bed and surrounded by letters and cards, little candies and other nonsense. None were of interest.
Ce closed his eyes for a moment. He would have to go into work. He felt strong today, not like in his youth, but stronger than recently. Strong with purpose. He climbed out of bed, allowing himself a smirk at the ease with which he accomplished the task.
Ce ate quickly and left soon, he was eager to get into the office and boast. His colleagues would no doubt be envious of his recovery.
It was a short trip on the mass transit to work, and Ce rode the executive elevator to the top floor. He nodded to everyone he passed, smiling and waving. He even flexed a little, mostly subconsciously, but very deliberately when he saw that new hire Em-Ay. Two-namers, Ce said to himself, what's this company coming to? He made a mental note to schedule a meeting with the recruiting staff.
Everyone returned his gestures warmly.
Ce walked into his office, and closed the door behind him. The blinds were drawn, keeping the heat out, and it was dark inside. Ce turned the lights on but before he could sit down he felt a chill. A fist slammed into the side of his head and Ce hit the wall with a thud.
“Hello Father.”
Ne stepped forward out of the shadows and stood over Ce.
“Already?” Ce asked, getting to his feet. He felt good. Better than he expected.
“Already.” Ne replied, cracking his knuckles.
Ce couldn't help but appreciate him. He was strong, he looked tough, and he was tall. A son to be proud of. Ce laughed. A dry chuckle.
Ne punched him again. Ce staggered backward. It wasn't even fair.
Ne stepped forward and killed him. Ne landed strike after strike on Ce, pounding his father into the floor and bludgeoning him into a messy pile.
Ne opened the door to the office and nodded to the secretary.
“Ev? Cleanup crew please. Get someone up here to change the door tag, and then fetch me some coffee. There's work to be done.”
vis a tergo | Blog | Twitter | Blip.fm | Dropbox
Now I guess I have to write mine. bleeeh.
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
COUVADE. (for which I curse the gods of dictionary.com who CLEARLY are against WotD writing.)
"Breathe," the doctor said.
Some of the pressure in my chest eased when I exhaled, and my wife's fingers loosened ever so slightly with her own gasp for air. Without her nails digging into my arm to distract me, the pain of waiting closed like a fist around my heart. She trembled next to me, and I knew she felt it too.
There was a pop followed by a low hiss, and my stomach twisted. This was it. There was no turning back now, for either of us. We were having a baby. We were parents to whatever came next. My lungs burned for oxygen and my blood roared in my ears.
"Breathe," the doctor said again, laughter in his voice.
My wife leaned forward, trying to see over his shoulder. I held her hand at least as hard as she held mine, but she didn't seem to notice. Later, we would both have bruises.
"Ahh," she sighed.
"What is it?" I asked.
"What do you think it is?" the doctor said with another low chuckle.
He twitched his shoulder and I pulled my wife back. She was vibrating now, rather than trembling, and her cheeks were flushed red. I swallowed but couldn't trust myself to speak any further. Dear God, what if it was some kind of mutant? My wife wouldn't care. She'd dote on anything, she was so desperate for a child.
A sharp wail rose and then cut off, then rose again, and I stopped breathing altogether. The doctor turned and presented me with a swaddled bundle of cloth with a pinched purple face and huge blue eyes.
"Is it supposed to look like that?" I asked.
The doctor snorted. "It looks exactly like it's supposed to. Ten fingers and ten toes. A perfect child of your own flesh and blood. The only difference being, you didn't have to risk your wife's life to bring it into the world."
My wife took the baby from him when I didn't move quickly enough, cooing at the bundle. I stared over her shoulder. "But it's so small."
"He's perfect!" she said, tearing her eyes away from the screeching thing in her arms to glare at me.
I opened my mouth to object, but thought better of it. The baby was normal, and everything was fine. Best of all, I hadn't had to endure my mother-in-law harping at me over not hiding away for couvade while my wife died in labor.
Maybe the artificial birth had been a good idea after all.
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Amalia: Thanks! I burned through three ideas before I settled on this one, glad you liked it.
Amalia:
Monday, June 21st - Heliolatry.
Couvade
When I received the message containing news of my daughter’s death I quickly collapsed my overlay and went to bed. I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t do anything but think of Vanessa. When I shut my eyes, my mind would race and open my overlay playing back her recent messages. I gave myself a pulse of sedatives, but all it did was slow down time and plunge me headfirst into an oily nightmare. After a few hours when the sedative wore off I summoned a taxi and told the driver to take me to the hospital.
While the taxi hummed along the rail, I played back the message. It was already several days old before it reached me. What concerned me was the language used. It said she had been killed in the line of duty. No one died these days. The mind could just be transferred. One was simply told that their loved one was transferring and where they could be found. A mind transfer was a time of celebration, a time of change and growth.
A doctor was waiting for me when I arrived. It rolled over to me and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. Electrical pulses surged through my system in an attempt to dive me into a tranquil state, but my years serving the military had put a block to any such effort.
“You should collapse your overlay and firewall Mr. Hudson. They aren’t improving your current emotional state.”
I did as it ordered me too. A suggestion from a doctor was only a brief moment away from becoming an enforced piece of advisement.
“There isn’t that better?”
“I guess so.” I hated the fact that it was right. With the memories and my firewall closed, it began intercepting and replacing my neural signals. It felt good to not care as much. But I still wonder why it allowed me to fear this short interaction. Once it felt I had calmed down to an acceptable level it released its hold on me. “Please follow me.” I did.
“Has the transfer started yet?” I asked.
“I’m afraid it won’t start Mr. Hudson.”
“And why not? I haven’t missed a payment. She’s still under my insurance. My ex-wife isn’t causing this complication is she? She’s years away and I can’t deal with her now.” I wanted a different answer, but I could sense the real reason through the doctor’s featureless face.
“Like many others on board the Freyja, Vanessa Hudson’s case was destroyed in the ship’s explosion. All neural imprints failed sometime between 1400 and 1410 on June 6.” The doctor continued to keep its hold on my arm. It gave me a prescribed amount of minutes to meditate on this news, but it didn’t allow me to grieve. “Records indicate that you still possess a backup.”
I furrowed my brow as I tried to remember. The doctor released its grip on me and I accessed my memories freely once more. “Yes. Yes there is a backup, but its,“ I paused remembering that I purchased newborn insurance with the money I saved over the course of Sarah’s pregnancy. “But she was just a few days old when she had her case installed and copied.”
“It will have to do. By law you cannot deny Vanessa Hudson her eternal life so long as an imprint exists. I will assign a counselor to help you during this difficult transition period.”
The doctor stayed with me a couple more hours and applied neural therapy as I needed it. When the counselor came, she and the doctor took me to the pods to select one for my Vanessa. The counselor talked about how it would essentially be the same Vanessa as the one I had lost, but I ignored her for the most part. After an hour of searching I found one whose display showed an outcome that perfectly matched my memories of her as an infant. I couldn't help but think they had altered my memories during therapy. They began the hours-long imprinting process and I asked them if I could stay.
“Of course you may stay Mr. Hudson,” said the Counselor. She smiled at me and touched my cheek with icy cold fingers. “You're a privileged man to witness the birth of his daughter a second time. Message if you need anything. I'll come back to check on you for the big moment.” They left me alone with the pod.
I took a seat by the pod and stared at my reflection on the smooth plastic shell for what may have been a long time before peering into the window. Behind the glass I could just make out the shadow of an infant floating in a red haze. I expanded my overlay to encompass the whole room and picked out several memories: birthdays, graduations, the time I scared the hell out of her boyfriend. I laid a hand on the pod looking around at the memories thinking of only the future.
Traikan:
I think the "fight scene" as it were towards the end falls apart a little bit. The reflection of Ce on Ne is a great line, but the rest of that sections feels a little cluttered and staggered.
The line "Ne stepped forward and killed him. Ne landed strike after strike on Ce, ..." is also a little odd. The "killed him" followed by further action to demonstrate killing him is kind of jarring.
Overall, though, a great piece and a great example of building a world in a tidy little piece! Awesome.
Amalia:
The line: "My wife leaned forward, trying to see over his shoulder. I held her hand at least as hard as she held mine, but she didn't seem to notice. " is a little confusing to picture -- her holding his hand, yet somehow being behind the doctor so that she'd have to look over his shoulder. It's possible I'm just not an expert on these newfangled birthing procedures, though!
I will say if what's going on isn't supposed to be a bit of a mystery from the start, you could do more with the description and emotion of what he might be feeling. As it is, the distance kind of makes it feel a little weaker than it might.
I loved the way it started, the "Maybe we should have." at the end of the first paragraph is a nice touch -- and given the kind of ominous and omniscient voice of that, I wonder if the piece should have ended a little more ambiguously on how the child is. In contrast, the last sentence or two felt a little forced to me. Overall, good piece on a difficult word!
Darksier:
The ideas in this story are great, though. I especially like the doctor telling him that it's not only his responsibility morally but legally as well to use the imprint that he has. There are a lot of neat implications in just that light. I like the idea of what doctors have become in this world, too -- very eerie!
Uh ... promise, I'll work on writing shorter critiques at some point.
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Vanity Pants, your critiques are more awesome than a blue billed dwarf. I don't think you have to worry about providing too much commentary.
Traikan
Amalia
edit- agreeing with Traikan - VanityPants your "lengthy" critiques are highly welcomed!
Darksier: Ditto with the thanks and the noting! About the end, I definitely see how adding a response from Ne could strengthen the scene, even if it's just a dismissive remark.
Today's word was a breath of fresh air after wrestling with couvade.
Heliolatry - 940 words
Of course the sun was already shining bright in the rest of the world, but it was only here, on this battleground, that its golden rays still had a purpose.
Just two more hours.
Communications would resume any minute.
I paced the cramped room. There wasn't enough room to get carried away with it, but still I went back and forth, tracing a curved path around the dark table, between the two chairs and back again. The display panel on the far wall shimmered on with a snap.
I stopped my pacing and sighed, turning towards it.
A face began to filter through the static, slowly coming into focus. It was as haggard and worn as my own. I had forgotten his name, and he had likely forgotten mine. The only thing I remembered were my objectives. The only thing he remembered were his. There was no way out of this cycle. I think we both knew that. But we had to keep trying, because trying was all we knew how to do.
“So we begin again, my opponent.” his voice was distorted but I knew what he said. Curse the planners for putting the communications array in a time zone two hours ahead.
“Just as yesterday, just as tomorrow.”
We had begun with insults, boasts, and goads, eventually we moved on to casual conversation, weather, hobbies, sometimes family if we were feeling morose, until finally all meaning was stripped from our interactions. Now we just spoke. The words were sounds, nothing more.
“Are you prepared?” he asked me.
“I am, as ever. And you?”
“Of course.”
I took a deep breath and began to stretch. I saw him drink from a dark bottle.
I would kill for something besides filtered water.
I laughed out loud at the absurdity of that prospect. My opponent was the only one out there for me to kill... and in the event of my success I doubted I would be concerned with salvaging his beverages.
We waited. Staring. It had long since ceased being awkward, we were accustomed to more silence than speaking in our conversations, and so I allowed my mind to wander. I strategized, I planned, I knew none of it mattered.
Almost. Down to minutes now.
There.
The first fingers of sunlight began to stretch themselves across the land.
The various machines in my home came to life, awakening from their slumber. I stepped in front of the table, its surface glowing as the solar energy flowed into it.
“So it begins.” my opponent said before he cut the link.
“So it does.”
The table activated showing me a three dimensional overlay of the entire globe. I worked on instinct for the first part, my mind analyzing the information as it was presented while my body automatically arranged the interfaces and displays.
There were my troops, and there were his. Solar packs charged and metal bodies stirred. Weapons were retrieved and orders requested. Geometric shapes of red and blue in line after line. I began.
With subtle gestures I gave orders, designated squad leaders and allocated initiative buffers, my eyes flying from point to point, absorbing it all. A reconnaissance push here, infiltration detail on the far side, front line support along that line with reanimation crews dispatched to there, there and there. It was all standard.
I was fighting my training more than my opponent. For the third day I saw his plan, and for the third day I did nothing. I didn't care anymore, let him have this dead world, let him take it and let him rebuild it. It no longer mattered which nation won, there were no nations left. I refused to let my ego, my country's ego - the ego I was trained to identify with – kill this world, kill our species.
It would be over soon. In a few hours he would push through my weak defensive line on the Eastern front and capture my secondary solar array. The economic advantage would give him the leverage necessary to get the primary array which some tactically inept planner put just a day's travel away from the secondary set.
It might even end today.
I waited. My mind was still, even as my hands continued to move.
I watched it happen like a man on his way to the gallows.
I saw the solar facilities switch sides, I heard my troops cry out as they were cut down, I felt the power fading from my instruments as the supply dwindled.
I heard his armies outside my home.
Not with audio monitors but with my own ears, what a novel concept, war in person.
I would have stepped outside to greet them and speed the process along, but my home was sealed and I could not leave while my opponent lived.
It would be over soon. The table was almost dark again, and then it would be just a matter of minutes.
Nothing happened.
The table glowed again, getting brighter, and I saw the power input lights turning on, one by one.
Then the display screen activated.
“You are a better man than I, my opponent. I wish you the best of luck in rebuilding our Earth.”
He had something in his hand. A pistol.
“No, wait-”
He fired.
I turned back to the table. All the symbols were blue now, and the power grid was running at maximum capacity. I was in charge of the planet, and it was my responsibility to repair the damage that had been done.
I stood in front of the table and I began.
He surveyed crops destroyed by heat, rivers boiled to bare land, raw red bodies of people and animals who had not found shelter in time. No, never again would all ten Sun-birds take flight at once, now that there was only one left.
Their mother Xihe descended from her carriage and ran from one corpse to the next, sobbing. He watched impassively, leaning on his bow. Dijun arrived, rage gleaming in his eyes.
"You are banished from the heavens," he told Houyi. "If you will kill for mortals, then you will die like one. Begone."
Houyi left. It was just as well. Emperor Yao had asked him to stop the Count of the Winds, and many other errant gods troubled mankind. If he did not help, who would?
vis a tergo | Blog | Twitter | Blip.fm | Dropbox
Whipping around a newsstand she took a moment to check her satchel hanging by her side. The sneakers were still there, the red patent pulsed with crimson life from the neon stream above. She quickly kicked off her old tattered shoes and slipped on the right sneaker. It went on easy and fitted around her foot. As she went for the next sneaker her cloak shifted to snow before intensifying into a brilliant yellow hue.
“Shit,” she muttered. The police had tagged her. She leapt up from her hiding spot and caught the edge of the newsstand. She was already mid-leap to the nearest balcony when she cursed again. She glanced back at the red sneaker lying in a puddle of oil. The police with their glowing blue cloaks charged in from the two ends of the street looking like large aquatic predators swimming through the light.
Sam continued her climb, ignoring the shouts from below. She leapt from balcony to balcony, climbed bundles of cables until finally she was above the neon clouds. The sounds below had faded into silence. She looked around the roof; a flat island of black surrounded by a dark brown fog and distant black spires stretching up even higher. Drawing deep breaths she leaned her head over the edge and vomited.
“That’s not very ladylike,” said a man stifling a laugh. Sam wiped her chin with her sleeve and stared hard at the man in rags stepping out of the fog.
“Shut up Dan,” she coughed as she spoke. “I damn near almost got caught!”
Dan shrugged and waved his hand high in the sky. Several other kids draped in rags grew out of the haze. None of them were as old as Dan who was maybe eighteen now. “Almost, but you didn’t. And that’s what counts.”
“I lost it.” Sam looked down at her bloody left foot. It stung now that she noticed the cuts.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dan smiled opening his arms. “It’s the escape that matters. Come here.” He held his arms out, but when she didn’t approach his smile vanished as quickly as he appeared. One of the others brought up a bundle of rags. “Put these on.”
She touched at the clasp that held her yellow cloak to her body. She held her finger on the release and watched as all the others held their gazes on her. Dan was here, and Sam didn’t mind the girls seeing, but there were other boys too. She closed her eyes and released the clasp. The brown haze wrapped about her naked body with a warm chemical touch. She started dressing herself, wrapping the dark oil cloth about her body and limbs, but stopped when she got to the shoes. She gazed at the red sneaker and traced its smooth edges.
“You don’t need it anymore.”
“I’d like to keep it if it's alright. To remember things by.”
Dan’s face hardened and years seemed to grow on his face. “You promised you wouldn’t be a coward. Don’t break your promise with me.” She took off the sneaker and threw it over the edge. She finished dressing and when she looked up again, the others had already lined up at the opposite edge. Dan helped her up with a smile on his face. “C’mon Sam. It’s time for you to see.”
She stood there with the others watching the murky sky through a cage of blackened steel. Soon a fire started deep behind the sky burning a hole through the brown veil with a golden light. As the sunlight intensified she thought of her mother and father, and what they may do when they see her face on the news tomorrow. The blaze intensified swallowing the farthest spires. As the sunlight continued to pour in through the cage, she wondered if she could find that red sneaker. She wiped a few tears from her face, closed her eyes and gave Dan a hard shove over the edge.
743 words on Heliolatry.
"Someone must be in need of your favors, to give you such a fine gift," his sister said.
"Are you jealous?" he teased.
"What use would a lyre do me?" she laughed. "I haven't the patience to carry more than my bow on a hunt."
"And you are always hunting." He took her hand and kissed it. "Don't let me keep you from your quarry. Father is looking forward to his solstice feast, and I've promised him you would bring a fine boar."
She sighed. "I wish you wouldn't. Half the fun is lost when you spoil the surprise. And I like not knowing what I'll find in the forest."
He laughed. "Next time, I'll remember to keep it to myself. Good hunting, sister."
"And what will you do?"
"Speak to the supplicants of course." He grinned. "Someone must be in need of my favors to leave me so fine a gift."
He loved her laugh, like moonlight on water. And then she was gone into the trees where no man could find her unless she chose to be found. No man but her bother, in any case, but he had never been certain how much of that was the gift of prophecy, and how much her love for him.
Apollo plucked the strings of the lyre again and studied the grounds around the altar. The clearing was bare but for the stone, carved with a laurel wreath on its surface and dolphins leaping up the pedastals. A strange place to find such gifts, but he had felt the summons, and after all this time, it would not do to ignore it. He owed that much to his people--at least what was left of them.
A path wove away through the trees, barely more than what a deer might make, but he followed it up the mountain, lyre in hand. The dogs began barking long before he found the small cottage tucked away from the main road. He could hear the whoosh of cars going by, but could not see them. A lean dog greeted him, tail wagging, and he scratched it behind the ears and made his way to the house. Stifled sobs drifted through the window.
"Hello?" he called, knocking on the door.
The sobs stopped, and a curtain moved. He stepped back, that they might see him more clearly and swung the bow from his back and dropped it with his quiver of arrows to the ground.
"Who's there?"
He smiled. It was a woman's voice, and that always made it easier. "Apollo Helios," he said.
There was a loud gasp and the noise of a scuffle from inside, then the door opened and a stooped crone in black bowed, babbling praise and apology in Greek. That explained part of it. But not the lyre, judging by her hands.
"Peace, Mother." He followed her into the cottage, ducking beneath the door frame. A younger woman held a baby in her arms, her eyes were red with tears, but she did not look at him. "Was it you who called me?"
She shook her head, rocking the baby. The older woman spoke so quickly in Greek he only understood the half of it, but it was enough. The baby was sick, dying, and out of desperation the old woman had dedicated the lyre. Something her father had made for her as a little girl.
He crouched before the younger woman. "Can I see the child?"
She jerked back, holding the baby to her chest and turning it away from him. "The doctors can do nothing! Why should I trust a stranger?"
"Because you need a miracle."
She sobbed once, hiding her face against the swaddled form.
"What harm can it do?" he asked softly.
"Give him the child," the old woman crooned in broken English. "Apollo Helios is god of sun and healing."
"I don't believe in God!" she snapped.
"Perhaps that is part of the trouble," he said. "Please."
She stared at him, her eyes hard. The baby wailed. "You can help him?"
"If you'll let me."
"What do I have to do?"
He smiled, taking the baby from her arms. "Just believe."
Darksier:
Vanity: Your crits are the PERFECT LENGTH OF AWESOME.
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Traikan:
I wish that we knew how this war had gotten so out of hand that it had wiped out the entirety of all nations and left just the two of them-- and I wasn't really all that sure why they couldn't have made peace when they were the only two left in command. What is it even being fought over? How did it escalate so ridiculously? But the fact that I want to know the answers to these questions means that I invested a bit, so kudos! I think this was a big world idea to tackle in this small space, but I wish we had been able to get deeper than we did-- into this guy's feelings and frustrations. He seems really impassive about the whole thing-- even about giving up the fight to save the world. I think it might be stronger if we got a little bit more emotion off of him.
Quoth:
Darksier:
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
He's apparently supposed to be nonplussed? Yeah, I don't get it either. But if it doesn't work for the story, I should probably change it. And of course this was Ficly length so that constrained things as usual. I should maybe stop doing that but part of me loves the challenge. Thanks!
vis a tergo | Blog | Twitter | Blip.fm | Dropbox
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
New word - Proliferate.
As far as feelings go I had a couple of ideas for how to take it and I think I ended up waffling between them too much. More decisiveness is necessary.
Critiques of Heliolatry
Quoth:
Darksier:
Amalia:
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Amalia
Traikan
His headset is paged, "Mission Command to Ward. Entering the yellows. Back down a bit and give us a slower run."
Chewing his beard for a moment, he replies, drained, "No such luck, MC. It's going on its own now. Guess I hit the magic button. Trying to pick up all I can but the recorder is struggling and filling faster than I can believe."
A pause on the headset as the screen of the portable interface can no longer hold the sizable numbers on a single page. Then, "Repeat Ward. Remember this is just a test run. No need to crack all the codes just yet," followed by a halfhearted chuckle. "Now can you turn it off?"
Daelus lets out a slightly touched chuckle, "I didn't think I'd turned it on. But it knew somehow. The first few queries were fine - gave me some high digit primes that we'd already known about. Stores of basic chemical properties and physical laws. The interface seemed to handle the translation perfectly..." he trails off, looking at the interface as the digits on the screen begin to chug along, the frame rate beginning to show some chop before the screen goes black.
Daelus swallows back a gasp and turns to face the moon's surface, the absolute emptiness sending a shiver down his spine. He walks a few paces, releasing the tether from his suit and jumps, hitting his compressed-air assist as he reaches the top of his leap. Daelus Ward floats off into the black.
The report sits on Black's desk. The last few months of confusion over her baby - Operation Thoth (colloquially known as operation Know-It-All) - had left piles of paper work, personal interviews, data analysis and more in her hands. It was her fifth season as Project Head for the International Space and Aeronautics Cooperation and Thoth was by far her greatest feat - and as it turned out - her greatest failure. It had all fallen into her lap during one of the more routine moon missions; a machine of unknown origin partially unearthed by a meteorite impact on the surface of the moon. After several years of excavations, analyses and some rather advanced engineering, the machine had been made useable by the creation of a programmable interface. Whether the machine was designed for computations, as a data repository or just a megalithic calendar, tension mounted to a nearly tangible level by launch day with speculation as to what it did and the ease of accessibility.
Perhaps the folder contained the answers as to why one Daelus Ward, after being battered by physical and psychological tests as a candidate for the mission had suddenly cracked, disengaged and floated off to his death. Black read and read long into the night and as morning cracked through the office windows she reached for her office phone. "Well, I have it. Get the press conference ready for tomorrow."
Camera's hone in on Sara Black's face as she stands at the podium, a deep melancholy exuding from her. She speaks and the assembled crowd of reporters are all hushed in anticipation, "As you all know, Operation Thoth was a planned exploration of the so-called Moon Machine. After several months of inquiry as to its failure, groups of analysts, interviewers and me myself have come to some conclusions about the nature of the device, its future and the fate of Daelus Ward.
"The Machine was to be put through some initial tests. Seeing if it could derive equations, predict things based on physical law, and other rudimentary activities. In the process of these tests, the machine seems to have formed a self-proliferating question and answer series based on the previous questions it was asked by researchers. The machine quickly outpaced the designed interface and computational speeds are in excess of anything nearly possible given foreseeable technology. Recorded readings show partial researches on abiogenesis, hundreds of digit primes and derivations of the Newtonian laws of motion - all calculated in a matter of minutes. Attempts to interface with the Machine have been met with failure and there is no further solution in the works. Essentially, an unimaginable breadth and depth of knowledge is on our doorstep and we are locked inside. Daelus' actions seem far to obvious to me now," she says as she draws the pistol from her suit pocket and points it at her temple.
(In my defense I just wrote 2000 words torturing Theseus.)
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)
Anyway, the writing is good! And the story is certainly thought provoking! I wanted to know more, and understand more fully the motivations of your characters, but your delivery of exposition works perfectly to color the world and keep us moving forward in the story.
Forged by Fate, March 5, 2013! (And it's on Goodreads!)