I just wanted to start this post by saying I'm sorry I missed my post yesterday. It's been crazy busy at work, and as my lunch break is where I normally write these posts, I kinda missed it yesterday. But, that's the danger of working in the flower industry during Mother's Day.
In the mean time, please enjoy today's Tiny Tales. Once again, it was my entry in Leah Petersen's Weekly 5 Minute Fiction contest. The prompt was Gravity, and I think this was pretty good myself.
*****
Gravity. It’s not something you really think about, until you were pulled into a massive gravity well.
And, brother, that’s what was happening to me.
Oh, not a planetary gravity well, of course. I’m talking about the gravity of a woman. A very particular woman. Doctor Sandra Parks. She was the new resident at the facility where I worked. One of those rare specimens, a woman physicist. And the moment I first saw her, I was sucked into that gravity well she exerted, and have been unable to escape ever since.
At first, I tried to deny it. I was a professional, there was no way I could be pulled into a woman just like that. But then she blinked those amazing gray eyes, and I knew it was a lie.
Now, I admit it. I’m lost. I’m deeply and totally in love with this beautiful woman, this amazingly smart woman that is going to change the way the world looks at the universe. And every day I work hard to get the courage to go up to her, to talk to her, to ask her out.
But as trapped as I am in her gravity, I always hesitate. Because I can’t help but think.
Would a scientist like her ever go out with a janitor like me?
Showing posts with label Tiny Tales Tuesday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tiny Tales Tuesday. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: Blue
Everything around him was blue. A deep, dark blue. It was cold, as well, a wet cold that seemed to reach into his very bones. It took a moment to realize that he couldn’t breathe. He thrashed, sending bubbles around him as he struggled against the bonds that held him down.
Water. That was the blue. Water. But that wasn’t why he couldn’t breath. Something was covering his mouth. He struggled again. Why couldn’t he turn his neck enough to see?
He kicked and thrashed, pushing himself backwards, and kicking up sand. So he was at the bottom of some place. That would help. But pushing up didn’t seem to work. Whatever he was tied to, it was heavier than him.
His chest started to tighten. He could feel the blood pushing harder to get what little oxygen there was left around his body. His head started to ach.
He pushed harder, and bumped against something. Pushing again, he felt his hands scrape against something rough. It cut, but it didn’t hurt in the haze of pain he was already feeling. He moved his arms around and stated to rub against the sharp thing that cut him. He wasn’t sure whatever bonded him would cut, but he worked hard at the rubbing. Eventually, it did snap, and he flung his arms up and pushed himself towards the surface.
He pushed, with his legs and arms, but all he saw was blue. How far down was he? He pushed again. Blue and more blue, and it seemed that the blue was trying to keep him down.
His vision was blurring, and he could feel water enter his lungs through his nose and mouth. It was like liquid fire. He had to reach the surface. Had to.
The blue started turning black. Darker and darker, until he felt that everything would become black. Suddenly, he felt his hand break through the water. Air! He shoved again, with what little strength he had left, and broke the surface. He took gasping breaths, coughing out the water as much as taking air in. His whole body was on fire, but he was greatful for it. Pain meant he was still alive.
Alive, and with a single desire. A desire to find out whoever had stuck him on the bottom of the ocean, and repay the favor.
Water. That was the blue. Water. But that wasn’t why he couldn’t breath. Something was covering his mouth. He struggled again. Why couldn’t he turn his neck enough to see?
He kicked and thrashed, pushing himself backwards, and kicking up sand. So he was at the bottom of some place. That would help. But pushing up didn’t seem to work. Whatever he was tied to, it was heavier than him.
His chest started to tighten. He could feel the blood pushing harder to get what little oxygen there was left around his body. His head started to ach.
He pushed harder, and bumped against something. Pushing again, he felt his hands scrape against something rough. It cut, but it didn’t hurt in the haze of pain he was already feeling. He moved his arms around and stated to rub against the sharp thing that cut him. He wasn’t sure whatever bonded him would cut, but he worked hard at the rubbing. Eventually, it did snap, and he flung his arms up and pushed himself towards the surface.
He pushed, with his legs and arms, but all he saw was blue. How far down was he? He pushed again. Blue and more blue, and it seemed that the blue was trying to keep him down.
His vision was blurring, and he could feel water enter his lungs through his nose and mouth. It was like liquid fire. He had to reach the surface. Had to.
The blue started turning black. Darker and darker, until he felt that everything would become black. Suddenly, he felt his hand break through the water. Air! He shoved again, with what little strength he had left, and broke the surface. He took gasping breaths, coughing out the water as much as taking air in. His whole body was on fire, but he was greatful for it. Pain meant he was still alive.
Alive, and with a single desire. A desire to find out whoever had stuck him on the bottom of the ocean, and repay the favor.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: Space Pirates!
So, today's Tiny Tales Tuesday is brought to you by my friend Tom. He invited me to play around with him and another friend in a shared universe, one that is heavly influenced by the movie Treasure Planet. If you haven't seen it, it's Treasure Island is pace. Litterly. The ships are 18th century wooden ships with rockets on the back, the sails are solar sails, and the guns are replaced with plasma cannons. It's lots of fun. So, reading over his setting document, I was inspired to write this little short.
It's not bad, but it needs some work. Outside of knowing the setting, this story does little to inform people they are flying through space on an opened deck wooden space ship. I'll need to work on that more, I think. Anyway, let me know if you all enjoyed this one.
****
“Another hit, sir,” Richards said, lowering his spyglass. “I have to ask, sir. How is it that you know where they’re always going to be? Running these asteroids is risky business at the best of time, never mind in a ship as large as theirs, loaded with gold and jewels.”
“Did you know I once served under Edward Blackstar, Richards?” Captain Mathews said.
“The pirate?” Richards, his first officer, said, turning to look at his captain.
“Indeed, though back then he was a fine Imperial Captain,” Mathews said, “and I was but a stripling Lieutenant.”
“I did not know that, sir,” Richard said.
“He taught these pirates everything he knows, you see,” Mathews continued. “And since he taught me much the same things, I know how they think.”
“I see,” Richards said. He turned his spyglass back across the void of stars to look at the deck of the other ship, it’s solar sails in pieces after having been blasted by plasma cannons. A white flag was being waved from the fo’castle.
“White flag, sir,” he said. “It looks like they’re surrendering.”
“Excelent,” Mathews said. He turned away from the other ship to stare out at the asteroids. “Excellent. Send some men over to recover the stolen treasure.”
“Aye, sir,” Richards said. “What about prisoners?”
“No, just the treasure,” Mathews said. “Once it’s back over here, separate us from them and destroy their ship.”
“Sir?” Richards said, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s a shame, really,” Mathews said, turning back to the enemy ship. “These pirates are cowards, but stubborn. They were willing to destroy their own ship against an asteroid rather then turn the treasure back over to us.”
“Yes, sir,” Richards said, still confused.
“Once the report is written up, I’ll announce to the crew that I will be retiring once we return,” Mathews said, continuing. “Everyone who served with me this day will get a substantial bonus, from my… personal coffers.”
“Oh,” Richards said, understanding dawning on him. “I see, sir. Aye, sir.”
“I told you,” Mathews said, “Blackstar taught me everything he knew.”
“Aye, captain,” Richards said. “I’m learning much myself.”
“I very much think I would like to retire to a private asteroid of my own,” Mathews said, leaving the deck and returning to his cabin to file the report.
It's not bad, but it needs some work. Outside of knowing the setting, this story does little to inform people they are flying through space on an opened deck wooden space ship. I'll need to work on that more, I think. Anyway, let me know if you all enjoyed this one.
****
“Another hit, sir,” Richards said, lowering his spyglass. “I have to ask, sir. How is it that you know where they’re always going to be? Running these asteroids is risky business at the best of time, never mind in a ship as large as theirs, loaded with gold and jewels.”
“Did you know I once served under Edward Blackstar, Richards?” Captain Mathews said.
“The pirate?” Richards, his first officer, said, turning to look at his captain.
“Indeed, though back then he was a fine Imperial Captain,” Mathews said, “and I was but a stripling Lieutenant.”
“I did not know that, sir,” Richard said.
“He taught these pirates everything he knows, you see,” Mathews continued. “And since he taught me much the same things, I know how they think.”
“I see,” Richards said. He turned his spyglass back across the void of stars to look at the deck of the other ship, it’s solar sails in pieces after having been blasted by plasma cannons. A white flag was being waved from the fo’castle.
“White flag, sir,” he said. “It looks like they’re surrendering.”
“Excelent,” Mathews said. He turned away from the other ship to stare out at the asteroids. “Excellent. Send some men over to recover the stolen treasure.”
“Aye, sir,” Richards said. “What about prisoners?”
“No, just the treasure,” Mathews said. “Once it’s back over here, separate us from them and destroy their ship.”
“Sir?” Richards said, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s a shame, really,” Mathews said, turning back to the enemy ship. “These pirates are cowards, but stubborn. They were willing to destroy their own ship against an asteroid rather then turn the treasure back over to us.”
“Yes, sir,” Richards said, still confused.
“Once the report is written up, I’ll announce to the crew that I will be retiring once we return,” Mathews said, continuing. “Everyone who served with me this day will get a substantial bonus, from my… personal coffers.”
“Oh,” Richards said, understanding dawning on him. “I see, sir. Aye, sir.”
“I told you,” Mathews said, “Blackstar taught me everything he knew.”
“Aye, captain,” Richards said. “I’m learning much myself.”
“I very much think I would like to retire to a private asteroid of my own,” Mathews said, leaving the deck and returning to his cabin to file the report.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: I Don't Seek Redemption
Once more, a 5 Minute Fiction entry for today's post. This one is a little dark. Okay, it's very dark. But I think it came out well. Please enjoy.
******
I look down at the body in front of me. He was a man, once, before I got to him. Before I killed him. I don’t seek redemption for this act, that’s not why I tell you this. No, I instead want you to understand. Understand me, understand why I did things to this man that would make a surgeon run away retching.
And the simple truth is, I did it for pleasure. Strangling him like that, holding his throat as he struggled, feeling his breath fade every second as my fingers tightened around him. There’s no sensation like it. And did you know that the movies have it wrong? It takes more than just making a person pass out to choke someone to death. No, you have to keep strangling them for a very long time, cut off oxygen to the brain, make sure they are dead.
Besides, I wasn’t trying to kill him with the choking. No, I want to prolong my pleasure. I just wanted him out, so he wouldn’t struggle. Not too much.
After I was done with that part, I put on my surgical mask, pulled out my black bag full of little sharp surgical knives, and got to work. Just like the strangling, there’s something special in the feel of slicing open flesh, watching it part before my knife as if it were fleeing it, seeing the red blood spurt forth as I open a vein. And it’s even better when I do it barehanded.
But I am done with him now. This man is dead and can offer me no more pleasure. But you, on the other hand. You I still have hours of pleasure to gain.
But not now. That’s my cell phone going off, see. That means I’m needed back at work, back at the hospital. A patient needs me to save his life. So, work first, but don’t fret, my pretty. I’ll be back soon. And then you’ll know exactly how pleasurable a knife cut can be.
******
I look down at the body in front of me. He was a man, once, before I got to him. Before I killed him. I don’t seek redemption for this act, that’s not why I tell you this. No, I instead want you to understand. Understand me, understand why I did things to this man that would make a surgeon run away retching.
And the simple truth is, I did it for pleasure. Strangling him like that, holding his throat as he struggled, feeling his breath fade every second as my fingers tightened around him. There’s no sensation like it. And did you know that the movies have it wrong? It takes more than just making a person pass out to choke someone to death. No, you have to keep strangling them for a very long time, cut off oxygen to the brain, make sure they are dead.
Besides, I wasn’t trying to kill him with the choking. No, I want to prolong my pleasure. I just wanted him out, so he wouldn’t struggle. Not too much.
After I was done with that part, I put on my surgical mask, pulled out my black bag full of little sharp surgical knives, and got to work. Just like the strangling, there’s something special in the feel of slicing open flesh, watching it part before my knife as if it were fleeing it, seeing the red blood spurt forth as I open a vein. And it’s even better when I do it barehanded.
But I am done with him now. This man is dead and can offer me no more pleasure. But you, on the other hand. You I still have hours of pleasure to gain.
But not now. That’s my cell phone going off, see. That means I’m needed back at work, back at the hospital. A patient needs me to save his life. So, work first, but don’t fret, my pretty. I’ll be back soon. And then you’ll know exactly how pleasurable a knife cut can be.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: It's a Trap!
Jeff hesitated before walking across the grass to the front door. He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling. Rick and Clara never invited him to their parties. They liked him and all, especially during game night. He was the DM for their Dungeons and Dragons game. But, outside of that, Rick and Clara weren’t all that geeky, and neither were their friends outside of game. The one time Jeff had been invited to a party of theirs, he freaked out a few party goers by quoting the whole Star Wars argument from Clerks. Rick never invited him back to another party after that.
Jeff sighed. He didn’t really blame him. He liked Rick and Clara too, but they weren’t really his closest friends. Those were his game group, especially Sarah, his sister. But, she left for school two weeks ago, and the rest of the gang was out of town this weekend at a con. Jeff was feeling a little lonely. He sort of assumed that was why Rick invited him at work the other day. He felt sorry for his skinny, geeky friend. And the sad truth was, Jeff was just lonely enough to take the sympathy offered and go.
When he rung the door bell, Rick answered. He smiled, gave Jeff a big hug and shoved the skinny young man into the room. There weren’t that many other people there, just a few other co-workers from Jeff and Rick’s company. He waved to them awkwardly, but they all smiled back and waved. But then, Rick started steering Jeff through the living room and towards their study.
“What’s going on?” Jeff asked.
“You’ll see,” Rick said. “I’ve a special surprise for you in here. I think you'll really like her.”
Oh, no, Jeff though. It was all a trick. They brought him here to hook him up with some new girl in the office, he just knew it! It was a trap! He started pushing against Rick.
“Now, now, none of that,” Rick said.
Then, he got to the study and opened the door. Inside, Jeff saw a girl about his age, with straight brown hair that covered one side of her face, thick glasses, a shy smile, freckles, and a tee-shirt that showed Admiral Ackbar, with a word bubble and his famous quote, 'It's a Trap!'
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad trap to fall into, Jeff thought as Rick started to do the introductions.
Jeff sighed. He didn’t really blame him. He liked Rick and Clara too, but they weren’t really his closest friends. Those were his game group, especially Sarah, his sister. But, she left for school two weeks ago, and the rest of the gang was out of town this weekend at a con. Jeff was feeling a little lonely. He sort of assumed that was why Rick invited him at work the other day. He felt sorry for his skinny, geeky friend. And the sad truth was, Jeff was just lonely enough to take the sympathy offered and go.
When he rung the door bell, Rick answered. He smiled, gave Jeff a big hug and shoved the skinny young man into the room. There weren’t that many other people there, just a few other co-workers from Jeff and Rick’s company. He waved to them awkwardly, but they all smiled back and waved. But then, Rick started steering Jeff through the living room and towards their study.
“What’s going on?” Jeff asked.
“You’ll see,” Rick said. “I’ve a special surprise for you in here. I think you'll really like her.”
Oh, no, Jeff though. It was all a trick. They brought him here to hook him up with some new girl in the office, he just knew it! It was a trap! He started pushing against Rick.
“Now, now, none of that,” Rick said.
Then, he got to the study and opened the door. Inside, Jeff saw a girl about his age, with straight brown hair that covered one side of her face, thick glasses, a shy smile, freckles, and a tee-shirt that showed Admiral Ackbar, with a word bubble and his famous quote, 'It's a Trap!'
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad trap to fall into, Jeff thought as Rick started to do the introductions.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: The Church
So, first, let me apologize for there being no blog post yesterday. I was suffering from a migraine, and never got one written down. Which is really too bad, because I had some exciting stuff I wanted to talk to you all about. Still, that will wait until tomorrow.
Today, it's time for Tiny Tales Tuesday!
The below story is a dramatization of an actual event from my life. It was a fun trip down memory lane writing this. I hope it's enjoyable to you, as well.
The Church
It happened about three decades ago. Yes, that long. I can still remember it like it was yesterday, though.
There it stood, the empty church. I know now, of course, that it wasn’t abandoned as we thought then, but that it was going through renovations. But we were kids, in elementary school. To us, it was abandoned. And not just abandoned, haunted. And it stood just on the other side of the wire fence, across the grass field behind our school.
My two friends and I stared at it. We’d been talking about the building for weeks now. It’s tall spires and dark interior and smashed out windows beckoning to us. We could even see the cobwebs from here. This place called to us, and that call sent shivers down our spines. Well, mine, anyway. Derik didn’t fear anything, standing there in his Fonzy-like leather jacket. He looked at me, and I shook my head, seeing the twinkle in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said.
I looked to Chris, our other friend, who shared my name, for support. Surely, he would see reason.
“Yes?” he said.
“Today,” Derik said, smiling, “We go in.”
“Oh,” Chris said. He turned to look back at me, and I shook my head. I was terrified, I could see the ghosts of dead priests waving their bibles at me and the hell fire that would consume me if I entered an abandoned church was behind them, in the broken window. I didn’t want to go there. But Chris wanted to be everything that Derik was. So he straightened up, narrowed his eyes and looked back towards the church.
“Today,” he repeated, and took a step forward. “We go in.”
I just knew I was going to hell for this.
Today, it's time for Tiny Tales Tuesday!
The below story is a dramatization of an actual event from my life. It was a fun trip down memory lane writing this. I hope it's enjoyable to you, as well.
The Church
It happened about three decades ago. Yes, that long. I can still remember it like it was yesterday, though.
There it stood, the empty church. I know now, of course, that it wasn’t abandoned as we thought then, but that it was going through renovations. But we were kids, in elementary school. To us, it was abandoned. And not just abandoned, haunted. And it stood just on the other side of the wire fence, across the grass field behind our school.
My two friends and I stared at it. We’d been talking about the building for weeks now. It’s tall spires and dark interior and smashed out windows beckoning to us. We could even see the cobwebs from here. This place called to us, and that call sent shivers down our spines. Well, mine, anyway. Derik didn’t fear anything, standing there in his Fonzy-like leather jacket. He looked at me, and I shook my head, seeing the twinkle in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said.
I looked to Chris, our other friend, who shared my name, for support. Surely, he would see reason.
“Yes?” he said.
“Today,” Derik said, smiling, “We go in.”
“Oh,” Chris said. He turned to look back at me, and I shook my head. I was terrified, I could see the ghosts of dead priests waving their bibles at me and the hell fire that would consume me if I entered an abandoned church was behind them, in the broken window. I didn’t want to go there. But Chris wanted to be everything that Derik was. So he straightened up, narrowed his eyes and looked back towards the church.
“Today,” he repeated, and took a step forward. “We go in.”
I just knew I was going to hell for this.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: The Hunt
So, once again, I am posting my entry into the 5MinuteFiction contest, this week hosted by R.B. Wood on his blog. The prompt today was Pub, and this is what I came up with. Enjoy!
****
The Hunt
The sounds and smells of the pub wafted on the breeze to Jin’s ears and nose. People chatting and laughing, corned beef and bitter, and a slight undercurrent of tension. It made her sigh. She hated going into public places like this to get her job done. These were just folk, trying to unwind after a day’s hard work. The clacking of billiards struck her next. She paused. That might make a good cover. She nodded, and concentrated.
She checked herself in the reflection of the darkened window. The disguise spell wasn’t perfect, but it hid her sharp elf ears enough. She never did understand the human fascination with denim. It was nowhere near as comfortable as soft leather, she though. Still, it did allow her to fit in, and the human males always liked to see her in it. She nodded again, then entered the pub.
The few patrons by the door stopped their conversations briefly to look at her, then quickly returned to them. Just another thirsty worker on her way home. She headed to the bar to order a pint, then acted surprised as she saw the billiards table. She took a subtle breath in, and could smell what she was looking for in here, but couldn’t see it anywhere. Hopefully, the overwhelming smells of the place that prevented her from getting a good read would disguise her as well.
She took her pint, headed over to the table, and threw a twenty pound note into the middle of it, causing the two men playing to stop and look up at her.
“Can a lady join in?” she asked.
For a brief second, one of the men’s eye’s flashed a deep purple, then returned to the blue they were before. He smiled at her, his canine teeth prominent and glinting. A hound. Her target was here, and this man was it’s bodyguard. And no doubt he now had her sent and knew who she was.
“Of course,” the hound said, pushing the human he had been playing with aside.
He started to rack the balls. This game was going to be interesting, she thought.
****
The Hunt
The sounds and smells of the pub wafted on the breeze to Jin’s ears and nose. People chatting and laughing, corned beef and bitter, and a slight undercurrent of tension. It made her sigh. She hated going into public places like this to get her job done. These were just folk, trying to unwind after a day’s hard work. The clacking of billiards struck her next. She paused. That might make a good cover. She nodded, and concentrated.
She checked herself in the reflection of the darkened window. The disguise spell wasn’t perfect, but it hid her sharp elf ears enough. She never did understand the human fascination with denim. It was nowhere near as comfortable as soft leather, she though. Still, it did allow her to fit in, and the human males always liked to see her in it. She nodded again, then entered the pub.
The few patrons by the door stopped their conversations briefly to look at her, then quickly returned to them. Just another thirsty worker on her way home. She headed to the bar to order a pint, then acted surprised as she saw the billiards table. She took a subtle breath in, and could smell what she was looking for in here, but couldn’t see it anywhere. Hopefully, the overwhelming smells of the place that prevented her from getting a good read would disguise her as well.
She took her pint, headed over to the table, and threw a twenty pound note into the middle of it, causing the two men playing to stop and look up at her.
“Can a lady join in?” she asked.
For a brief second, one of the men’s eye’s flashed a deep purple, then returned to the blue they were before. He smiled at her, his canine teeth prominent and glinting. A hound. Her target was here, and this man was it’s bodyguard. And no doubt he now had her sent and knew who she was.
“Of course,” the hound said, pushing the human he had been playing with aside.
He started to rack the balls. This game was going to be interesting, she thought.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: The Lazy Superhero
So, once again, my post today is the story I entered into this week's 5 Minute Fiction. It's on a tour right now, so go check out it's home for this week:
http://monibw.blogspot.com/
The prompt today was "lazy" and as I was listening to The Red Panda on a podcast just before the contest started, I was influenced. And this is what I came up with. Now, looking back at it, I must say... I think I'll have to return to John and Gail and see what it means to be a lazy, slacker superhero. Could be fun. :)
In the mean time, enjoy!
****
“Are you really going to just sit there and do nothing?” Gail screamed.
“I don’t see why not,” John replied. “I’m comfortable.”
“Do you know what is going on out there?” Gail asked.
John propped himself up on the couch with one elbow and peered out the window.
“Looks like a giant robot is rampaging around the city. Again.”
“Exactly,” Gail said. “And don’t you think you ought to be doing something about it?”
John took a deep breath and sighed. “You know, it’s at times like these that I really hate my dad. Imagine leaving this kind of responsibility to me.”
He clicked off the TV and stared at Gail, who was putting her hands on her hips and grinding her teeth. He smiled slightly. She was sexy when she did that.
“Okay, okay,” he said, pushing up self off the couch and stretching as he stood. “Let’s get to the secret lair and change into costume. Hopefully, this robot will be as easy to beat as those aliens were last week. I can get back in time for Robot Chicken.”
“I swear,” Gail said, pushing the button on the bookshelf that opened the secret tunnel. “You are the LAZIEST super-hero in the world!”
http://monibw.blogspot.com/
The prompt today was "lazy" and as I was listening to The Red Panda on a podcast just before the contest started, I was influenced. And this is what I came up with. Now, looking back at it, I must say... I think I'll have to return to John and Gail and see what it means to be a lazy, slacker superhero. Could be fun. :)
In the mean time, enjoy!
****
“Are you really going to just sit there and do nothing?” Gail screamed.
“I don’t see why not,” John replied. “I’m comfortable.”
“Do you know what is going on out there?” Gail asked.
John propped himself up on the couch with one elbow and peered out the window.
“Looks like a giant robot is rampaging around the city. Again.”
“Exactly,” Gail said. “And don’t you think you ought to be doing something about it?”
John took a deep breath and sighed. “You know, it’s at times like these that I really hate my dad. Imagine leaving this kind of responsibility to me.”
He clicked off the TV and stared at Gail, who was putting her hands on her hips and grinding her teeth. He smiled slightly. She was sexy when she did that.
“Okay, okay,” he said, pushing up self off the couch and stretching as he stood. “Let’s get to the secret lair and change into costume. Hopefully, this robot will be as easy to beat as those aliens were last week. I can get back in time for Robot Chicken.”
“I swear,” Gail said, pushing the button on the bookshelf that opened the secret tunnel. “You are the LAZIEST super-hero in the world!”
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: A Gnome named Man
So, while trying to come up with a name for a villain in my WIP, I ran across a fantasy name generator. I showed it to a twitter friend, who discovered that one of the names it comes up with for Gnomes was Man, and thought that was funny. I thought it would make a good story, the adventures of a Gnome named Man. So, here's my take on that idea.
****
A Gnome named Man
Before you ask, yes, I am a Gnome. No, not a lawn gnome, those are little figurines that were made by humans with no clue as to how culturally insensitive they were being. No, real Gnomes (with a capital G) are fairies; earth spirits who travel underground collecting gems. It’s difficult to explain beyond that.
Now that that stuff is out of the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Man.
Yes, Man. Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.
Back? Good. See, my parents thought they were being funny. In the ancient tongue, not really spoken by Gnomes anymore, Man means hero. If they had known how much trouble that name would get me into… on second though, they would still have named me that. My ten brothers and nine sisters were named similarly. My parents are just masochistic like that.
So, why am I telling you all this? Well, I just saved the human race, and I figured I disserved a little credit for it.
What? You didn’t even know you were in danger? Typical humans, you are so unaware of what is really going on in your world. Here, I’ll just sum it all up for you.
About a thousand years ago, an elf wizard messed around with things that mortals were not meant to know, and went insane. He came to believe that some kind of dragon was trapped in the middle of the Earth, and wanted to destroy the world to free it. Thankfully, a group of elven, dwarven and gnome heroes stopped him. They locked him up in this magical tree, there to stay for all time.
If you really must know, it’s a tree in Kansas, that ended up being in someone’s backyard, and had a tree house built in it.
So, anyway, about a year ago, the humans that lived in this house decided to cut down the tree, and, as you can guess, freed him. Sadly, the heroes that defeated him last time were all dead now (we’re not as long lived as you’re stories would have everyone believe. I blame Tolkien myself). I got involved because the people in that house were my family.
No, my human family.
Look, stop interrupting. It’s not my fault you know nothing about Gnomes. See, in adition to collecting gems, we also like to adopt certain human familys that we see as worthy, and gift them with good luck. Turns out, I’m not very good at that. Or maybe, I just picked the wrong family. Whatever, they released this bad guy into the world.
I didn’t notice at first, I was just doing my usually rounds, wandering by the humans invisible and granting luck to them. The boy gets luck for his math test, the girl gets luck with that boy she likes, mom gets luck in getting that job she really wants. Dad gets luck with mom when she comes home that night. That sort of thing.
I’m passing by the boy, who was playing with the tree stump, when I see the evil elf’s head popping out of it. I didn’t recognize it for what it really was at first, I was just freaked out. So, I zapped it. Turns out, he was still partially trapped, and I killed him in the first go. That was when I noticed who it was.
So, there you have it. The story of how a Gnome named Man lived up to his name and saved the world. Now, say thanks so I can go back to my family. Dad needs some extra luck tonight.
The End.
****
A Gnome named Man
Before you ask, yes, I am a Gnome. No, not a lawn gnome, those are little figurines that were made by humans with no clue as to how culturally insensitive they were being. No, real Gnomes (with a capital G) are fairies; earth spirits who travel underground collecting gems. It’s difficult to explain beyond that.
Now that that stuff is out of the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Man.
Yes, Man. Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.
Back? Good. See, my parents thought they were being funny. In the ancient tongue, not really spoken by Gnomes anymore, Man means hero. If they had known how much trouble that name would get me into… on second though, they would still have named me that. My ten brothers and nine sisters were named similarly. My parents are just masochistic like that.
So, why am I telling you all this? Well, I just saved the human race, and I figured I disserved a little credit for it.
What? You didn’t even know you were in danger? Typical humans, you are so unaware of what is really going on in your world. Here, I’ll just sum it all up for you.
About a thousand years ago, an elf wizard messed around with things that mortals were not meant to know, and went insane. He came to believe that some kind of dragon was trapped in the middle of the Earth, and wanted to destroy the world to free it. Thankfully, a group of elven, dwarven and gnome heroes stopped him. They locked him up in this magical tree, there to stay for all time.
If you really must know, it’s a tree in Kansas, that ended up being in someone’s backyard, and had a tree house built in it.
So, anyway, about a year ago, the humans that lived in this house decided to cut down the tree, and, as you can guess, freed him. Sadly, the heroes that defeated him last time were all dead now (we’re not as long lived as you’re stories would have everyone believe. I blame Tolkien myself). I got involved because the people in that house were my family.
No, my human family.
Look, stop interrupting. It’s not my fault you know nothing about Gnomes. See, in adition to collecting gems, we also like to adopt certain human familys that we see as worthy, and gift them with good luck. Turns out, I’m not very good at that. Or maybe, I just picked the wrong family. Whatever, they released this bad guy into the world.
I didn’t notice at first, I was just doing my usually rounds, wandering by the humans invisible and granting luck to them. The boy gets luck for his math test, the girl gets luck with that boy she likes, mom gets luck in getting that job she really wants. Dad gets luck with mom when she comes home that night. That sort of thing.
I’m passing by the boy, who was playing with the tree stump, when I see the evil elf’s head popping out of it. I didn’t recognize it for what it really was at first, I was just freaked out. So, I zapped it. Turns out, he was still partially trapped, and I killed him in the first go. That was when I noticed who it was.
So, there you have it. The story of how a Gnome named Man lived up to his name and saved the world. Now, say thanks so I can go back to my family. Dad needs some extra luck tonight.
The End.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: Crash
Once again, a 5 Minute Fiction entry, though this time around I didn't make it to the finals. Still, I like this story. The great thing about writing Flash Fiction is that it's just a snapshot of a larger story. There are many questions left unanswered. It's almost like a teaser. But you never get the whole thing, because this is it. I love that. It leaves the answers up to the reader.
And I think this this week's Tiny Tale is perfect in this respect. So, enjoy Crash.
********
“Get out, quick,” Richard said as he slammed his shoulder into the door. His force worked and the door jared open a crack, light flashing in from the outside. Weather it was daylight, or more fire was hard to tell. I didn’t hesitate to find out, though, the fire inside the shuttle was more than enough to convince me that I needed to get out.
Richard was right behind me, pushing me slightly in his rush to get outside.
“Keep running!” he shouted, which was unnecessary given that we were communicating through our helmets. But, I nodded and chased after him. We ran as hard as we could, which was difficult given both the terrain and the slightly lower gravity. After w few moments, we reached a rise, and we both turned to look back at the shuttle. The fire had spread to the outside, and the only place not burning as we watch was the cockpit we just escaped from.
I turned away from the wreckage. The crash was horrible enough, and I flinched at the memory of a piece of hull piercing through Hobbs. Instead, I turned my eyes towards the landscape before us. It was a lush jungle on the other side of the mountain, purple leaved trees with what appeared to be round, yellow fruit hanging from them. I wondered briefly if there were any animal noises. It would be impossible to hear through the helmet. I didn’t want to take that off to find out, though. The sensors before we crashed indicated that the atmosphere was poisonous.
“Well,” Richard said, finally turning away, “that’s it then. I managed to save some equipment, but not the radio. We’re stuck here.”
“I hope the signal got through,” I said. “Otherwise, getting out of the shuttle only delayed the inevitable.”
And I think this this week's Tiny Tale is perfect in this respect. So, enjoy Crash.
********
“Get out, quick,” Richard said as he slammed his shoulder into the door. His force worked and the door jared open a crack, light flashing in from the outside. Weather it was daylight, or more fire was hard to tell. I didn’t hesitate to find out, though, the fire inside the shuttle was more than enough to convince me that I needed to get out.
Richard was right behind me, pushing me slightly in his rush to get outside.
“Keep running!” he shouted, which was unnecessary given that we were communicating through our helmets. But, I nodded and chased after him. We ran as hard as we could, which was difficult given both the terrain and the slightly lower gravity. After w few moments, we reached a rise, and we both turned to look back at the shuttle. The fire had spread to the outside, and the only place not burning as we watch was the cockpit we just escaped from.
I turned away from the wreckage. The crash was horrible enough, and I flinched at the memory of a piece of hull piercing through Hobbs. Instead, I turned my eyes towards the landscape before us. It was a lush jungle on the other side of the mountain, purple leaved trees with what appeared to be round, yellow fruit hanging from them. I wondered briefly if there were any animal noises. It would be impossible to hear through the helmet. I didn’t want to take that off to find out, though. The sensors before we crashed indicated that the atmosphere was poisonous.
“Well,” Richard said, finally turning away, “that’s it then. I managed to save some equipment, but not the radio. We’re stuck here.”
“I hope the signal got through,” I said. “Otherwise, getting out of the shuttle only delayed the inevitable.”
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: Teapot
“A teapot?” Grand Warlord Glarg scowled over the alien word. “What does it do?”
“Well, your highness,” Major Marok said, pointing at the strange, round device before him. “Apparently, it is used in a strange ritual.”
The major lifted up the top of the ceramic pot, revealing it was hollow inside.
“Water is placed in here,” Marok said, and Glarg nodded. Water storage was important, but this would not serve as storage. The container had a long tube with a hole on the end, and no stopper that he could see.
“And then the container is placed over,” Marok said, then hesitated. “Fire, m’lord.”
“Fire?” Glarg said, pushing himself backwards into his chair. “Does this work have so much water that they can burn it?”
“Indeed they do, m’lord,” Marok said, bowing and wiggling his antenna in an apologetic manor.
“And you say this is used in rituals?” Glarg said. “Do they sacrifice the water to their heathen gods?”
“No, m’lord,” Marok said, his antenna waiving even more frantically now. “It get’s even more… perverse. I hesitate to continue.”
“I order you to tell me,” Glarg said.
“M’lord,” Marok said, standing at attention and getting his antenna under control. “The Earthlings take the now hot water,” he flinched at the word hot, “And then pour it into a cup, over leaves.”
“Leaves?” Glarg asked. “As from a tree?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Marok said, and his eyes were turning a pale green, as if he were feeling ill. Glarg couldn’t blame him, he felt slightly ill himself.
“And then comes the worst part,” Marok said.
“Don’t tell me,” Glarg said.
“I’m afraid so, m’lord,” Marok said. “They drink it.”
“Well, your highness,” Major Marok said, pointing at the strange, round device before him. “Apparently, it is used in a strange ritual.”
The major lifted up the top of the ceramic pot, revealing it was hollow inside.
“Water is placed in here,” Marok said, and Glarg nodded. Water storage was important, but this would not serve as storage. The container had a long tube with a hole on the end, and no stopper that he could see.
“And then the container is placed over,” Marok said, then hesitated. “Fire, m’lord.”
“Fire?” Glarg said, pushing himself backwards into his chair. “Does this work have so much water that they can burn it?”
“Indeed they do, m’lord,” Marok said, bowing and wiggling his antenna in an apologetic manor.
“And you say this is used in rituals?” Glarg said. “Do they sacrifice the water to their heathen gods?”
“No, m’lord,” Marok said, his antenna waiving even more frantically now. “It get’s even more… perverse. I hesitate to continue.”
“I order you to tell me,” Glarg said.
“M’lord,” Marok said, standing at attention and getting his antenna under control. “The Earthlings take the now hot water,” he flinched at the word hot, “And then pour it into a cup, over leaves.”
“Leaves?” Glarg asked. “As from a tree?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Marok said, and his eyes were turning a pale green, as if he were feeling ill. Glarg couldn’t blame him, he felt slightly ill himself.
“And then comes the worst part,” Marok said.
“Don’t tell me,” Glarg said.
“I’m afraid so, m’lord,” Marok said. “They drink it.”
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday!
Welcome to a new weekly feature here at I Must Be Remembering the Future: Tiny Tales Tuesday! This will be another weekly Flash Fiction post each week. Today's story is from my 5 Minute Fiction entry today, where the prompt was "shy." I have no idea where this came from, I just started typing and this is what came out. Go check out the other finalists from this week.
http://www.leahpetersen.com/2011/02/5minutefiction-week-38-finalists/
So, there you go. I hope you enjoy.
Dog-Boy
He curled up into a ball as she came close. He didn’t like her, or the smell of her. She was different. Strange. She smelled of grapes and dirt. He wanted to smell familier things, like trees and deer, fresh rain in the forest. Not this strange, dry place, or this strange woman.
“Oh, look at you,” she said in a pleasant voice. “Are you playing at being shy? Or are you afraid?”
Afraid? He was not afraid! He turned back to face her, ready to hear the shocked gasp he always received when people saw his face for the first time. Instead, she smiled.
“There,” she said. “You are only shy then. My name is Mara.”
She held out her hand to him, not like people normally do, to shake hands, but flat and palm up. He realized she was letting him smell her. A real smell, not just a sniff. Tentatively, he reached his snout forward and sniffed. He smelled more dirt and fruit, not just grapes, but he also smelled… kindness. It was an unfamiliar smell. But, pleasant. He liked it, so he rubbed his nose against her.
“We don’t see many of your kind around here,” she said, “But I know of dog-men. I imagine that it’s been tough for you. But, you’ll be welcome here. You should know that our blacksmith is a dog-man. Maybe he knows how to get in touch with your family. Would you like that?”
He shied back again, but smelled the truth on her breath. Others? Like him? He didn’t even know such a thing was possible. He believed he was a freak, like his old master told him before he escaped.
“Come,” she said gently. “At least let me feed you.”
Food. That was a call hard to resist. He stood and nodded. She smiled and lead the way. Maybe things were going to get better after all.
The End
http://www.leahpetersen.com/2011/02/5minutefiction-week-38-finalists/
So, there you go. I hope you enjoy.
Dog-Boy
He curled up into a ball as she came close. He didn’t like her, or the smell of her. She was different. Strange. She smelled of grapes and dirt. He wanted to smell familier things, like trees and deer, fresh rain in the forest. Not this strange, dry place, or this strange woman.
“Oh, look at you,” she said in a pleasant voice. “Are you playing at being shy? Or are you afraid?”
Afraid? He was not afraid! He turned back to face her, ready to hear the shocked gasp he always received when people saw his face for the first time. Instead, she smiled.
“There,” she said. “You are only shy then. My name is Mara.”
She held out her hand to him, not like people normally do, to shake hands, but flat and palm up. He realized she was letting him smell her. A real smell, not just a sniff. Tentatively, he reached his snout forward and sniffed. He smelled more dirt and fruit, not just grapes, but he also smelled… kindness. It was an unfamiliar smell. But, pleasant. He liked it, so he rubbed his nose against her.
“We don’t see many of your kind around here,” she said, “But I know of dog-men. I imagine that it’s been tough for you. But, you’ll be welcome here. You should know that our blacksmith is a dog-man. Maybe he knows how to get in touch with your family. Would you like that?”
He shied back again, but smelled the truth on her breath. Others? Like him? He didn’t even know such a thing was possible. He believed he was a freak, like his old master told him before he escaped.
“Come,” she said gently. “At least let me feed you.”
Food. That was a call hard to resist. He stood and nodded. She smiled and lead the way. Maybe things were going to get better after all.
The End
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