Posts Tagged ‘Flash fiction’

Singularity Utopia

Singularity Utopia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, the time has come for the Quantum Short Contest, and I’m left with the same state of trying to think of something to write in a method that is usually so easy for me that I barely even try at all—which comes of course with memories flashing back to school when I could never write anything if it was assigned, but could always write anything on my own (hence why, even though have a degree in any form of writing would be cool, I also haven’t even bothered looking into it, ’cause I feel I would hate the classes telling me to do what I already do anyway).

Well, while I try to think of something to write, here’s what I submitted last time:

Flash of Reality

I looked at him as he clicked his pen out of a nervous habit while glancing at his notepad.

“Ok,” he began, trying his best to keep the sound of skepticism out of his voice, but failed, “You say you have the ability to teleport yourself to different worlds?”

I smiled and folded my hands while trying to formulate the right words to explain without sounding even more insane than I already did, “’Worlds’ would suggest ‘planets,’ which is wrong. And I’m not sure if ‘teleport’ is quite right either. To be more accurate, I can at will come to exist in any other reality.”

He looked at me with an expression that suggested he was waiting for the punch-line, but when it clearly wasn’t coming, he reluctantly clicked his pen out and jotted a scribble into his pad—following his pen-strokes, I’m fairly certain he wrote the word “Nuts.”

He looked back up at me while mentally sorting out which question would sound the least insulting to someone who may or may not be nuts, “And… how exactly do you do that, ‘willing yourself to other realities’?”

“I’m not much of a scientist, but I have tried my best to figure it out through library reading on the subject. But did you know, that there is actually a concept that existence only exists because it is observed by conscious observers?”

“You mean, like the tree in the woods; cat in the box—that sort’a thing?”

“Yes, those are thought exercises around the idea that these things exist because a consciousness observed it. On this idea, my existence here only exists because I’m being consciously observed.

“But, I myself am conscious, and therefore making you and all around me exist as well.”

He smiled, “I’m pretty sure I existed on the drive over here before you had the chance to observe me.”

“Yes, but not to me,” I said and let the words sink in before continuing, “Before you got here, you didn’t exist to me—and just as such, I didn’t exist to you. And the ability to fully understand this, allows me to exist anywhere else, anywhere I desire. I can be a rock singer or dragon slayer simply by willing it.”

He looked at me with a confused squint, “Do you me literally, or figuratively? I mean, are you actually talking about transporting your existence at all, or just having an active imagination, or day dreaming?”

“Oh, I mean quite literal, but you do direct us to the right questions. What is the difference between imagination and reality, or dream and wake? How do you know you’re awake right now? How do you know this isn’t a dream, and if it’s dream, which one of us is dreaming?”

“This is getting absurd, but alright. I guess if I really thought about, I really can’t tell—I could come up with logic problems like whose eye am I looking out of as opposed to who’s I’m not, but the answer could just as much be part of the dream.”

“Do you know what a waking dream is?”

He gave his pen a few unconscious clicks, “Yeah, it’s when you’re able to make yourself conscious of your dream and take control of it—are you about to tell me that’s what you do with reality?”

A smile spread across my face, “Exactly—although ‘reality’ is a bit more like a very convincing dream. We’ve all had dreams that for some reason, we believed they had to be real, until we woke-up—even if the dream was absurd, we still believed it. But even those dreams can be broken through with the right amount of convincing. And that’s all that is required here. Convince yourself that this is all just a dream—completely truly be consciously aware that this is something you control, and—poof—it’s all yours.”

He looked at me with a mix of skepticism and pity, and just shook his head, “I’m sorry, although I’m convinced you fully believe your delusion, it’s just too completely unbelievable. I don’t know if I could even write an article on this if I filed it as science-fiction.”

“That was expected,” I said with a smile, “after all, I have been in your place before.”

I look at the man as he absently smiles at me, I couldn’t tell what he possibly meant, beyond an insane rambling. So, with a final shrug, I close my notebook, click my pen and slide it in the spiral, and leave him to his lost mind.

Galaxy Collision in Action (NASA, Chandra, 7/0...

Galaxy Collision in Action (NASA, Chandra, 7/09/09) (Photo credit: NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center)

So… here we are, all anniversaried and stuff, and nothing to contribute. Last year I gave you a dose of ‘Natural Selection,’ and, while I do still plan to do something else with that eventually, I have yet to get around to anything. I could still do a Flash before the day’s out, but I have nothing motivating one right now (but I’ll see about looking for something). Best I can give you is the strong possibility that I will be able to give you a review for ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ tomorrow, since I plan to see that. I Amazon Instanted ‘Transcendence’ last night, but I don’t know if it was really worth reviewing, but I don’t know.

See, this is one of the key reasons I put this blog on hold for so long. Trying to keep working on top of keeping this running is a pain, simply because I have to keep trying to come up with things to talk about, and that’s difficult to do for even just the anniversary entry. I have a few categories, but coming up with anything to fill those categories with takes time too. I have to take time to develop a recipe, well enough to be able to explain it in as plain detail as possible (and I don’t even get time to cook anywhere near as much as I would like, let alone develop a new recipe), or I have to watch TV within a certain timeframe to review it (and you’re lucky if I’m not just catching up on a series about 3 or more eps at a time with OnDemand), and then movies, they just cost money on top of time. And of course stories are a whole issue of their own ‘cause not only do I have to take time to write them, I have to decide on who gets them (you or a publisher), which is why you’re always more likely to get flash-stories, there’s only so many places to submit those—although ‘Natural Selection’ is for the most part for you people, as I mentioned in a previous entry, I wrote something in that universe a bit ago, but held it back for submission possibilities, so, that’s no completely for you either, and money has to come first (that’s just how the game gets played).

And, so, that’s your sad anniversary entry. I’ll try to put up a Flash in a little bit, but that’s the best I can do for you for now. Here’s hoping for a review tomorrow.

This was originally written to be the prologue to something, but I have no idea what. It basically came from one of my many moments where I was reading something and thought, “I can do that better.” And even though I like it, I sadly have no idea what to do with it. I thought maybe making it something for D’arc Lyte, but since I can’t figure out what to do with him either, it sits and does nothing. But, it’s in the notebook that I’m writing ‘Stiym’ in, so it keeps staring at me, and telling me to do something with it… so this is me doing something with it. It might get reused elsewhere, but for now, it’s here…

English: Chest of drawers in the Herkimer Hous...

English: Chest of drawers in the Herkimer House in Danube, Herkimer County, New York. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A smell fills my mind—the memory of a sweet perfume. It calls to me, it rumbles in my mind like a long starvation. My hunger for the flooding tastes of the salty, sweetness with its lasting trace of iron.

I look at my chest-of-drawers—the place where it slumbers. The image of it burns like a glowing ember. It calls for my hand—it calls for my feet—it calls to run free. It calls…

The memories telling me it’s wrong—scolding me to shame as I curl up tighter. I shut my eyes to ignore the burning, but it’s still there to blind me beneath my eyelids, demanding to be served. The memories scold me…

I curl ‘til I feel myself floating—falling. Down into the deep depths of the darkness—my god, the darkness…

It lulls me into submission like a siren’s call—it drowns the memories that tell me “no,” it smothers them as they gasp to silence. And my body responds and I rise…

My existence floats to the chest, slides the drawer where it waits to be brought from its slumber. The objects that hide it are shifted, and I move a false back away revealing its small casket of a box. It creaks as I raise its lid.

I believe it smiles at me as it sees me… and it knows… it’s time to feast.

Enhanced by Zemanta

1522080_707992375885776_736189279_n

The empire was at war, once again. The docking platforms were lined with gun-clad airships, loading to the brim with soldiers and merchs alike.

As I trudged towards my own transport of destruction, I viewed a display of two love-torn kids putting on a drama for the whole place to catch a show. I’ve seen the type before—the boy, so young, he probably never even touched a loaded pressure-rifle before, and would be lucky if his trembling hands don’t blow his own head off the first time—but he read the penny-store novels and rags, and his mind was filled with the idea of battle’s glory.

He tore himself from the girl’s fingers, one-by-one, with such a caricature of love-lulled look on his face. I was too far to hear, but I already knew the lines as if they were reading them off an offstage cue-card.

“I’ll think of you every night,” he’ll say.

“I’ll cry myself to sleep, worrying about you,” she’ll say, while whipping up alligator-tears to make sure it was believable.

And then he’ll say, in some off iambic pentameter, “Good-bye, my love, I will long for the day I will return to you, and feel your touch again. For now, my empire calls…”

He’ll be puking in a corner, crying for his mommy at the sight of the first battle flare.

Enhanced by Zemanta
Rainwater harvesting systems channel rainwater...

Rainwater harvesting systems channel rainwater from a roof into a storage tank via an arrangement of gutters and pipes. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A few months ago, a friend of mine, Catrina Taylor (whose books you should be reading), started her own indie-publisher, the Writing Network. It’s still in its very young stages, but it’s being lead by someone that knows what she’s doing.

As one of her draws, she started a Word of the Day Flash Fiction, and while I haven’t had the time to do much with it since she started (because I was writing a bunch of deadlines), I will try to get more into it (especially since I need something to give my flashes structure). Back for her opening, I did do one for the word “sunshine” (even though her rules were a max of 500, I kept my rules of 300):

The sunshine shot deftly through the boarded window directly at my eyes, prying me from my sleep—something that used to be the most irritating way of waking up, but now was a comforting sign that I survived another night.

I stumbled to my feet with my head still spinning of an uneasy sleep, and made my way for the door. After a couple minutes worth of unlatching locks, I let in the new day and walked out into its warmth. My first step was into a pile of ash splayed across my porch—I had to force it from my head for now—convince myself it was only dirt as it seeped between my bare toes.

I walked to the end of the yard where the overflowing rain barrel sat and splashed the sun-warmed water at my face. Staring down at my reflection, I saw a face so worn and tired I barely recognized it as mine.

Then the extra eyes glimmered just over my shoulder.

I barely had time to dodge as the draugr swiped at me from a shadowed corner. I jumped back as it lunged forward, and burst into white flame—instantly consumed by the sun, with only the traces of it ever existing left behind.

I staggered back for the shelter of my home and re-latched the door behind ‘til I could work the courage back up to venture out again. I slumped back to my tattered mattress, and let the beam of sunshine comfort me with warmth. As I lay, I felt the warm slowly turn to a subtle burn across my arm. I sat up, and saw, slightly beginning to smolder, a slight scratch—not much—but just enough. Enough to know this would be my last taste of sunshine.

Enhanced by Zemanta
Doctor Who: Return to Earth

Doctor Who: Return to Earth (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m back. I know, I was gone longer than I said I’d be, but it was necessary.

The Quantum Short was turned in, it got a 4.6 from 5 votes (looking at most of the entries’ ratings, that’s pretty good), but it didn’t make the shortlist.

I didn’t get a submission put together for ‘Cogs in Time,’ because it fell victim to my priority list, and simply wasn’t something that ended up happening. But, the release is Jan. 9, and you should buy it. It is packed with short stories and poems from many talented wordsmiths.

My ‘Dark Crystal’ story was completed and submitted and I am simply trying not to think about it too much until I get a response… so, let’s just leave it with that’s a thing that happened, for now…

Now, we’re in a new year, and new things are to come. I promised you a couple ‘How I Write’ posts that got pushed off by the priority list, but lucky for you, that one didn’t fall off altogether. I saw a couple movies by way of Amazon Instant, so we might have some reviews coming for those… I might even take a moment to shed some tears over Doctor Who (let’s just take a moment of silence for now). Recipes should be forming, at least a couple… tried redesigning my rum balls for Christmas—no pictures were taken… um… it’s still a work in progress.

Story projects to come… I am going to be finishing ‘Stiym’… shut’up… yes, I know I’ve said this before, but I mean it this time. The mess with ‘Dark Crystal’ and other crap has given me a considerable kick in the ass that has me extra determined to get some shit done. I estimate only a month or two of plunging into it, and it will be a finished manuscript ready to get mutilated by proof readers. After that, I will probably try throwing it at Baen, Orbit, and/or Ace, pretty much the Lionsgate and Relativity of the publishing world types, and if they say ‘no,’ then it’s getting self-pubbed (Stiym has been sitting around too long, he has only so much patience left). Then while ‘Stiym’ is in the thralls of waiting for responses, I’ll be working on finishing ‘Ravenblood.’

And then, there are the stories for you loyal blog-dwellers. I started doing flash stories before leaving without even bothering with explanation to why I was doing those—some of it was just to unclog my brain, so I could write, plus it was to give something to keep the blog moving… so I could write. Although, they were for the most part random, I will see about giving them a bit more structure and making a bit more of a thing out of them, since some of you seemed to like them. About the only rules I had for them so far were what I had for the Flash-round (minimum 100 words, maximum 300 words), but with the usual flash rules of being a complete story (contains beginning, middle, and end), and their inspirations come from different things, some of which were songs, or single lines, or a single word, or emotion… but yet, that part is what needs structure most.

And ‘Natural Selection’… I know I said it was dead, but damn’it I really liked the thing. I won’t be doing it the way it was before, and I’m still working on figuring out how it’s going to be done. What I can tell you about it so far though, all canon so far stands… all of it… even the last one. As it is, I need ideas from you people… I need names, just throw names at me (if you’re a follower already and know my usual naming scheme for NS, then you’re a winner in my book, but even other names are good—I’ll redesign them myself)—and I need weapons… pistol-blades, rifle-axes, and pistol-cannons are still a thing, but I need new stuff. Also, titles… I have a title in mind that I kinda like a lot, but throw yours at me, I might like yours more. As it is, I won’t be touching any of this until at least Feb. so I can work on ‘Stiym’ (NS would be too distracting).

And last but not least… St. Jude Warriors… I have $10 so far… this, G+, FB, and Twitter… I have only $10. The money for St. Jude Warriors is in no way for me… at best, I end the Warrior Dash with a shower, which I would be just as ok with being covered in mud. The money is for the children of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and, even though I’m only setting a goal of $300, I would have expected to get that and more by now. But instead, I have only $10. You have no idea how completely disappointed I am right now. I hear many people asking for help with this project and that for themselves, and I do everything I can, even if it’s giving what few dollars I can spare… but here I ask for you to help, not me, but children, and this is the response. I greatly appreciate the contribution that came from Astrea Baldwin, and I will promote the living shit out her book when a publisher finally bites and puts that thing in stores where it belongs… but for everyone else… I’m just very disappointed. Please… everyone that can spare anything at all, please donate what you can.

Enhanced by Zemanta
A modern reenactment of a Viking battle

A modern reenactment of a Viking battle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I hear the thunder approaching from all around, as the rising clouds of murder caw for the field of feast.

Drenched in blood, over blade and body, and covered in even more fatigue, fighting on against the coming horde is only motivated by the roars of the warriors beside me. They strike down their final prey, and take their trophies of flesh, and stand and wait with a fury filling their eyes that can only be quenched by the clashing of swords, and the brandishing of axes.

The thunder rolls toward like raging heartbeats, and the explosion of battle begins again. I surrender to the chaos, let the gods guide my hand, cast my blade to the throats of their desire, and spill the blood in their honor.

The thunder cracked and rang through my being as a hammer slammed to my shield. Stunned, I lay confused in the mud of dirt and blood, as my brothers of arms continue the dance of war around me.

The barer of the hammer came for me again, and I just barely rolled aside, raising my blade up and diving through his helm.

The thunder dies, and the clouds of murder drape the field.