Saturday, February 27, 2016

Master Class: The Prank

I couldn't resist the "Deep Space Mutterings" prompt from Master Class this week.  Took me a while to come up with something as I didn't want to be to cliche or tropish with it.  I hope I accomplished this.  Let me know what you think and be sure to stop by the class to read other assignments.  Just click on the button below.

                She giggled.
                “What’s so funny?”
                “I pranked them people.”
                “Which people?” concern evident in his voice.
                “Them people who are always watching space.”
                “’Fina, what did you do?”
                “Oh relax.  I just pranked them.”
                “How?”
                “Adin.  You no fun!”
                “I’ll be even less fun if you don’t tell me what you did right now, Seraphina.”
                “I just made them people think stuff was coming from space.”
                “Like what?” Adin held his breath, praying for a miracle.
                “Just noises.  Mutterings.”
                “Deep space mutterings?”
                Seraphina grinned and nodded her head like a small child, her excitement turning her whole body into a bouncing ball of energy, almost literally.
                “Don’t you go non-comporeal on me.  Why did you do that?” inside Adin was glad it was as simple as this.  Seraphina’s pranks weren’t always this benign.
                Her shape solidified, “Because.  Them peoples is always looking out there.  Them never look here.”
                “But that’s the way we want it.  We don’t want them to know we exist.  Remember last time they found out?”
                Some of the light went out of Seraphina, “Yeah.  But I said I is sorry for that.”
                “It wasn’t your fault.  You didn’t know what would happen.”
                Adin pulled Seraphina to him in a tight embrace.  He knew, despite the fact she’d been alive for centuries according to Earth’s revolutions around Sol, that Seraphina was still a child.  It would be like holding a human toddler responsible for his actions.  And, she was his.  Not as in he owned her.  As in she was his charge.  His foster daughter.  Albeit, one who will someday grow into immense power.
                Seraphina squirmed.  Adin let her go.
                “Is I in trouble?”
                “No ‘Fina.  You’re not.  I checked on the people at the observatory.  They’re pretty excited thinking your prank is something real, but there’s no harm done.”
                “Oh good.  Now me is hungry.”
                 Adin groaned.  Seraphina hungry was a frightening sight, even for him.


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Wednesday, February 24, 2016

#TuesFlashFicTrain: Day Dreaming

It took me a bit to come up with my response for the Flash Fiction Train story today.  Let me know what you think, and be sure to check out other takes the next piece of this story over at Trials and Tribulations of Writing Fiction.


                “Walter!”
                “Excuse me, ma’am?”
                Rita shook her head, “I’m so sorry.  It’s Rita.”
The young man behind the register at Three Bean Coffee gave her one more odd glance before handing her the receipt and her change.  Coffee, a meeting, and a conference call.  Those were her tasks today.  Simple.  Straightforward.  Something she could normally do without thinking about it much at all.
Damn this cold and that noxious concoction.
Rita collected her coffee and set up shop at a table in the corner of the busy shop.  As she flipped open her laptop, a flitting shadow caught her eye.  Glancing up, her heart almost stopped.  Then the man kept going.  Jerking her attention back to her table, Rita knocked her coffee over.  She snatched up her laptop cursing to herself.
“Let me help.”
“Laura.  Thank the gods you’re here.”
“I can see this is not your morning.”
By this time Laura had the spilled java mopped up with several napkins, had rescued the paperwork from the doom of brown stain, and had her bag propped neatly in the spare chair across from Rita.
“That’s one way to put it,” Rita flopped back into her chair.
Laura returned in a few minutes with a new cup of coffee for Rita and a fancier drink Rita didn’t recognize for herself.
“Now, Rita.  What’s got you so flustered?  The conference call starts in ten minutes and we really need to be on this.”
“I know.  Part of it is this stupid cold I just can’t seem to shake.”
“And?”
Rita hesitated.
“You dreamed again last night, didn’t you?”
Silence.
“Rita!  You know what happens!”
“Laura.  I know.  But what else could I do?  That’s the only option I had to try to take care of this cold once and for all.”
“It didn’t work.”
“I’ve noticed.”
The women were interrupted by Rita’s cell phone chirping.  Their contact was calling.  Time for business.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Weather Riders: In Over My Head

Studio 30+ afforded me a great opportunity to continue my Storm Riders series this week with their prompt quirky and/or odd.  If you've missed the previous pieces of the story, click here or follow the tab above.  And, be sure to check out other responses to the Studio 30+ page this week through the button below.



                I sat in the kitchen long after Caiden left, still trying to decide what to believe.  He seemed so odd.  Cultured and refined, yet ruthless and unrelenting.
                Joe interrupted my confused musings, “So?”
                “So, what?”
                He snorted as I studied my hands to avoid the look on his face, “You two looked pretty cozy out there.  I didn’t know you were capable of laughing like that without it killing you.  When do you see him again?”
                “Very nice, Joe.  Just because I take my work seriously doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have some fun.  And I don’t know when I’ll see him again.”
                “What do you mean you don’t know.  A man like that won’t be on the market long.”
                “Trust me.  I do know that.  I just,” I trailed off.
                Joe knew though, like usual, “You don’t want to seem impulsive or crazy.  You like him.  You want to say screw it all and be reckless with him.  You like him and that scares you.”
                “It’s more than that,” I blushed, knowing he was right.
                “Like what?”
                “He’s different.  Not in a cliché way.  More like he’s got quirks that I’m not sure what to make of yet.”
                “And you don’t, my friend?” Joe always could make me smile, “Go.  Live it up while it lasts.  We got the restaurant and God knows you have more than enough time off coming to be gone for several months.  We’ll be here to pick up the pieces when your fun is over.”
                I looked up at Joe, unsure of how to answer his insane suggestion.
                “Shay, it’s time to experiment with the rest of your life, not just your food.”
                I laughed, “Thank you, Joe.  I’m not totally sure yet what I’m going to do, but you’ll be in charge if I am gone a while.”
                Those words turned out to be prophetic.  I never made it back to the restaurant the next day like I’d planned.  I also didn’t get to see Caiden again, like I’d really wanted to.  Call it fate.  Call it the Boogey Man.  Call it what you will.  But, it came knocking later that night.  I opened my apartment door to find yet another strange Storm Rider standing in the hall.

                The next thing I knew I was waking up in the back seat of a sedan cruising down an unknown highway.



And take a stab at this week's Don't Panic Picture Prompt!

Monday, February 22, 2016

Don't Panic Picture Prompt: February 22

Okay, ladies and gentlemen!  Where are some takers for this challenge?  Is it really that hard?  It's just a measly 500 words or less of whatever you want inspired by the picture!  I even give you a week to work on it.  We'll try this one more time.  Post your blog links or your responses to the picture in the comments by 11:59 pm CST on February 28th.

Here's your picture:


A tree at Big Cypress National Preserve taken
on my recent trip to Florida

The Registry

I know my assignment for Master Class is a little late this week.  I had it written in a journal, but then between a cranky 3 year old and a house that looks like a bomb went off in it, I didn't get a chance to get it posted on time.  Anyways, here's my take on the "Chartered Legacy" prompt.  Be sure to check out other great responses through the button below.


                “Chartered legacy?  Contracted birthright?  Bonded endowment?  What is this world coming to?”
                “Don’t worry about it, Henry.  We don’t need to worry about things like that for the baby.  He will inherit the old way, with no threat to his birthright.”
                “That’s not the point, Gina.  Why should anyone have to spend thousands to make sure their children will be cared for?  Just because we are a part of the Genetic Registry shouldn’t mean we get that protection.  We’ve simply gotten lucky.”
                “Lucky?  Henry!  We paid our dues as did our parents and grandparents.  That we received the protection afforded by the Genetic Registry is our right for our service.”
                “And how many never got the chance to serve, thus earning that privilege?”
                Gina didn’t answer.
                “That’s my point.  We got lucky because of our parents and grandparents.  We are not really that different than the masses out beyond the border.”
                “We’re genetically pure.”
                “Pure what?  There hasn’t been a truly pure human in over two hundred years.”
                “Pure by The Trust’s standards”
                “Gina.  They’ve changed that bar at least three times in the relatively short history of The Trust.”
                “What?  What do you mean?”
                “The Trust has changed what it means to be genetically pure at least three times that I know of since it was founded one hundred years ago, when the last true human died.”
                “Why would they do that?”
                “Because by the original standard, no one alive today would qualify as genetically pure.”
                “But, I thought the Genetic Registry was supposed to be protecting that.  That’s what it says right on the paperwork you sign when you’re accepted in to the Registry.”
                “I know.  And I’m starting to believe the Registry is for another purpose entirely.”
                “Like what?  The Trust will jail you for talking like this.”
                “For the sake of our son, I have to, Gina.  We need to know the reason for the Registry.  The real one.”


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Monday, February 15, 2016

Don't Panic Picture Prompt: February 15

Okay - let's try this again.  I'm not real sure why the last prompt didn't get any takers.  So I'll change up the picture a little.  The rules are the same.  500 words or less.  Comment below with a link to your blog, leave your response in its entirety, or attach it as a document (.rtf please to ensure everyone can open it).  I'll promote your responses as best as I can as soon as I get them.  Responses are due by 11:59 pm central standard time on Sunday, February 21st.  Let me know if I can help or can improve this writing prompt in any way.


Jose Viegas:

From Two-Color.tumblr.com via Pinterest.com

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Damn the Fates

Here's a quick piece in response to the "lopsided inspirations" prompt from Master Class this week.  Let me know what you think and be sure to check out other responses through the button below as well!

                “Damn the Fates,” he muttered as he labored up the hill, “So many good ideas and no ability to write them down.”
                “Aleron!  Stop your dawdling.  I do not want to be late.”
                “Yes, my lady,” teeth gritted he tried to speed his pace.  It wasn’t much, but Lady Torellani seemed satisfied.
                Arriving at the ancient mansion, he dropped the poles of the rickshaw and hurried to lower the step for Lady Torellani.  It didn’t matter how fast he was; she still gave him that icy glare as if she’d been waiting an eternity for him.  He held his hand out to assist her, but she swept past him.  Even the rustle of the copious layers of silk in her dress seemed to whisper condemnations.
                As Aleron watched Lady Torellani enter the mansion, he moved back the front of the rickshaw to pull it off the street.  Maybe he’d finally have a chance to write about the ideas in his head.  Inventions.  Poetry.  Epics.  Art.  So much inspiration.  It was all there roiling in his mind until he felt he may go mad from the turmoil.
                Reaching the stable, Aleron set the rickshaw down.  He dug in his pockets for the scraps of paper and pencil he kept there in the vain hope he’d have a chance to use them.
                “Aleron?”
                Sighing, Aleron looked up, “Yes?”
                “Lady Torellani wished you to address several tasks while you wait.  Here is the list.”
                He took the list from the serving man and almost choked.  The duties she assigned would surely take him all day.  Even then, he felt uncertain about accomplishing them all before she would want to return home.  Feeling tears welling, he left the courtyard.  It wouldn’t do to have the servants of the house see his weakness.  It would get back to Lady Torellani and that would be dangerous.


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Sunday, February 7, 2016

Don't Panic Picture Prompt: February 7

The Don't Panic Picture Prompt is back!!!  Here's the rules.  Using the picture below, write about 500 words or so.  It can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or whatever you feel like writing.  It can be new works, part of a work in progress, or - you guessed it - whatever you want.  Add your link in the comments below by Sunday, Feburary 14th, and I'll do the best I can to get it out on my social media as well.  Most importantly, have fun and Don't Panic!

John Ringling's, of the Ringling Brothers Circus,
mansion in Sarasota Florida.
Picture by Stacy Overby

'Twas an Unrequited Love

Sorry.  Was on vacation for a few days and now I'm still trying to get caught up from being gone for those few days.  Anyways, here's the other side of things from my last piece - The Ossuary.  The prompt from Studio 30 Plus was too perfect to tell the other side.

                “’Twas an unrequited love.  He called on me at least once every two or three days.  I tried to spurn his affections in such a way as to help him understand there would never be any possibility of further acquaintance.”
                “Is that why he is here?”
                “I am afraid so.”
                “He had no knowledge of what you are, who you are?”
                “No.  He did not.”
                “How did he not deduce something?  With your limitations?”
                “I am certain he did not because of my station and my situation at that time.  It afforded me some protections with regards to what would be considered unusual behavior.  What am I to do now?  We cannot have him returning like this.  Discovery is inevitable if this continues.”
                “Such is the burden of our kind.  There are certain draughts that may alleviate some of the more potent effects of our natural abilities.”
                “I do not want him harmed.  He knew not what I am, that he could not help but build an affection for me, fantasy though it was.”
                “I thought you said you did not return his affections.”
                “I do not!  Because I do not want any ill to befall him does not mean there is more than a mere acquaintance between us and that I regard him any differently than I do any other acquaintance.”
               “Good.  For there is no possibility of any more intimate association with one such as he.”