Posts Tagged ‘ short ’

Complete Rubbish

Inner dialogue sometime last weekend at around 2:55 in the morning.

——-

Complete and total rubbish, that is!

What is it you’re talking about, you nutter?

Well, my short story that’s what!

Oh, you wrote–you wrote a story, a short one, you say, and it wasn’t any good? I could have told you that, you stupid git! I read some of the rubbish you post in this blog. You should be ashamed of yourself.

I am, I am….

So what are ya going to do about it, eh? Write more crap or are ya going to crack open a dictionary for once and use it as God intended?

———

And so it went.

So where did this wave of self doubt and recrimination originated?

From a “beta” my good friend Iz did for me recently.

Did I mention it was a HUGE favor? I mean it was titanic in its scope. He dragged his eyes (mid-vacation mind you) across the garbage strewn landscape that I dared call  a story (yes I dared, silly of me I know) and after much sorting he managed to pull out the salvageable bits.

I do not have Protection from Editors.

Aw God no!

That is a good thing, I guess.

Now I need to recycle those surviving bits into a story worth reading.

I can do this.

I can overcome my dreadful grammar, horrible pacing and inject some emotions into my characters.

YES I CAN!

And I will too.

Just you see.

Or Issac will see, if he has the stomach for a second round.

Did I mention that this favor was of astronomical proportions? Super Nova pale in comparison to what he did for me.

Just so you know.

And now for a cool anime style game trailer:

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Flash Fiction Friday: Once More Into the Breach

Haven’t updated in awhile. It seems that Flash Fiction Friday is not as popular as I thought it would be. No worries, you live and learn. This is another story set in the Galaxy Command RPG setting.

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Argus stared at the screen over the bar through bleary red eyes. Someone sat on the stool to his left, “How are you buddy?”

Argus drained his glass with one long pull. “What parts of no you don’t understand Gary, the N or the O?” he spat at the new comer.

“The part where you’re broke or the part where you still have nine months on your reserve status, I can’t decide which part that may be Argus,” said Gary.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Argus looked around him, “I don’t see a security squad with you and you’re not stupid enough to try to drag me back to the brig all by yourself so what do you want?”

“I’m putting a new team together and I need someone like you. Technically I could order you back, but I don’t want it to go down that way.”

Argus made a slicing motion across his throat to the bartender. “Technically I could give three shits about what you want or your orders.”

“I’ll take care of that,” said Gary to the bartender. He took the data pad and sign in his own name. “Still drinking scotch I see, all three bottles worth.”

Argus shrugged, “You done?”

“Yeah. There should be something waiting for you in your room. Think of it as your severance package.”

Argus got up from his chair and made his way across the casino. Little old ladies played the coin machines. Lights and sounds blasted through his dulled senses. Inside his room, he stumbled in the dark. “Ouch! Damn it!” A small table toppled over. The pain emanating from the stubbed toe pierced through the alcohol induced mental fog. “Lights!” A black box lay on the ground.  It came to life the moment he touched it.

WE ARE D’VOR

Startled by the ominous voice Argus put the box down on the bed. Gary’ holographic face appeared before him, “Argus this is part of a transmission we received from Eden about a week ago. You heard the rumors about what happened. We still don’t have all the facts and I can’t say more without compromising security. I need someone to whip up a new team to investigate this. Training contract, good pay, expunged record. Can’t give you back your old rank, but you never stood on rank anyway. Meet me at the starport at 11:45hrs. If you don’t show up, I won’t hold it against you. Hope to see you there.” The image winked out.

Argus shook his head and flopped back to be. He would be crazy to return to Galaxy Command. Not after the Koha Maru, not after what happened to Ryan.

Then again… he thought, but sleep took over.

Flash Fiction Friday: Scramble!

Stephen Delacroix pushed the sliding door to the mess hall to one side. The techies hadn’t fix it yet. A paper stuck to the other side read:

Please, do not lock door.

Thank you.

The Management.


Typical Stephen thought. Snatches of conversations buzzed past his ear.

“So I told her that I liked a threesome but not with Mary. I mean I thought she was her sister.”

“Really?

He reached the counter. An young and overweight attendant bent over a open fridge, exposing more flesh that Stephen cared to see. The attendant glimpsed at the new comer and yelled at him “Kitchen close!”

“At 20:00 hrs?”

At the sound of the voice the clerk spun around, nearly falling on his ass. “Sorry Boss. Didn’t know it was you. We don’t have much left, but I can whip up something for you” the clerk said scratching the back of his head.

“Just give me a ham and cheese, Jonsey.”

“Errm…we don’t have any cheese, Boss, unless you want goat cheese?”

Stephen made a face which Jonsey interpreted as a no. “Toast with butter, then.”

“What kind of butter, Jonsey?”

“Well, let me see.” Jonsey rummaged through another fridge, “Goat too.”

“Never mind, I’ll have just toast and a coffee–” The sound of klaxons interrupted him.

ALERT CONDITION ONE! ALL PILOTS, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE!

Stephen Delacroix ran down the maze of corridors to the fighter launch bays. Techs helped him with his vac-suit and system checks. By the time the systems had synchronize the Typhoon Mk. VI slid into the designated launch tube.  Data streamed into his visor as powerful electromagnets clamped on the fighter’s hull. With a quick thumbs up the ship slid down the tube, crushing Gs pushing Stephen against his seat. He felt another jolt as the fighter blasted out of the station’s artificial gravity well.

“All units, this is Calvary Lead. Target ETA in 5 at 3G. Commence burn on my mark…MARK!” Fighter exhausts glowed white as the ships accelerated toward the target area. A quick look at his instruments showed what looked like a squadron of Aero-Fighters, Vampire Class, attacking an unarmed medium size transport.

Stephen, now Calvary Leader, keyed in his radio, “Bravo 1, do you have any other enemies on sensors?”

“Negative” came the reply.

No carrier in sensor range. Probably hiding on a nearby planetary orbit. But that meant that these pilots had flown a long way to close the distance to their targets. A warning beep in his ear snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Looks like they saw us coming in. Jammers online. Switch decoy dispensers to automatic mode.”

Several enemy fighters broke off from their attacks and launched missiles at Calvary Wing. Well practice maneuvers and several decoy canisters defeated the incoming missiles. Their attackers were not as lucky. The return volley devastated the pirate craft.  The others beat a hasty retreat.

Stephen sharp eyesight detected movement near the freighter moments before it engaged it FTL drive. “All units break reverse course!”

The freighter released several large canister which detonated in sudden, blast of light.  Several electromagnetic pulses hit the incoming craft. The systems on the Typhoons overloaded.  They were sitting ducks until the ships computers re-booted.

When the did….

BRAVO 1 TO CALVARY WING. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!

Stephen detected three warships on an intercept course with the station. Each ship poured volley after volley of missile fire while receiving devastating punishment in return.

“Calvary Lead to all fighters. Return to base, max burn” Stephen ordered. The Wing made it in time to stop one of the ships. The stations batteries destroyed a second, but the third punched through the defenses and smashed into the outer hull. A second later an explosion obliterated it and the lower half of Bravo 1.

The combined sounds of his breathing and heartbeat filled his helmet. Someone was desperate or callous enough sacrifice several fighters and three missile destroyers to achieve their objective.

Whoever they were….

Stephen keyed in his radio again, “Ground control, this is Calvary Lead, we request permission to land on spaceport.”

After a short pause a female voice responded, “Permission granted Calvary Wing. General Patterson will be waiting for you on the tarmac.”

“Understood.”

As his craft entered orbit Stephen Delacroix reflected on what had just happened.

Over six hundred lives.

This is war.

—–

Well, that is it for this Flash Fiction Friday. Not very imaginative, but good practice none the less.  Here is a short video that served as the inspiration for the narrative above. Its from the Macross: Do You Remember Love? PSOne game.

Enjoy!

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