Five Sentence Fiction - Waiting

Just scraping in before the cutoff for the topic of waiting for Five Sentence Fiction. It's not autobiographical... I think >.>

Aspiring Author

Things are too busy at the moment so I'll wait till they slow down to start writing. Wonder what's on T.V. tonight? Nano isn't really for me, I'm more of a planner. Where's my muse when I need her?

Epitaph: Wish I'd written a book.

State of the Empire Address

Well, it's been quite a while since I've done one of these, and I've been dormant for ages so it seems appropriate to do it now. The new school year is about to kick off, and I am at a new campus (with the same company) so while a lot of my old complaints will still hold true, but there will also be a delightful newness, helped in no small part by swapping to Year 1 International (so that means I have the same class for the whole day, and have finally ditched the third grade text books which were horrible). I will have a lot less typing time as it will be a more hands on, but I'll also have less marking too - something that makes me very happy. That will just mean I will have to be more focused in my free time. They do like their forms and paperwork here, but I guess it is only fair that I atone for previous years by submitting it all on time.

I went on a short hiatus here while I was working on a project I have been referring to as the Honkin' Big Book Project. But "working" should be in air quotes, as the end of the school year with a newborn at home wasn't quite the best time to choose. I do have plans of working on it, especially now that I am largely waking up around 5 o'clock or so most days due to one daughter or the other. I have slowly been weaning myself off my early morning clickbait feast, and by small steps I'm becoming more productive then - so long as neither Madeline nor Rosalyn wake up again. I intend to go back to posting more regularly here, even if it is just something short. I have however also found a nice new place to play on, so I will have to do my best not to spend all my free time there

To aid with all this I have just recently finished a rather drastic overhaul of HabitRPG, coughed up for a subscription and used another orb of rebirth. I still hadn't hit level 100, but once again standards were slipping a bit. I also hadn't really been using the Habits column much, relying instead on Dailies and To-Do's. I've pulled a lot of no-core activities that I've either mastered, are too easy or aren't what I want to focus on, and dropped some challenges that were equally distracting. I'm excited for the new start of the school year, and new focus that I've got... we'll just have to see how long that lasts.

Zoinks and Jinkies

This week's entry for Five Sentence Fiction. The topic is Doors.

Picture Source

As a kid I'd always loved Scooby Doo, the chase scenes especially. In one door then out another, on and on. Running away from different monsters (back then they were scary). It's not so great, now that I'm dead. It's the best explanation of the afterlife I've ever seen.

The Clockwork Thurmaturgist

This is my entry in the Dirty Goggles Stempunk/Dieselpunk flash fiction challenge. You’ve got till May 18th to get your entry in in, so there’s still time if you hurry. 

Title: The Clockwork Thurmaturgist
Word Count: 795
Name/Twitter Handle: Snellopy
Category: Steampunk

The Clockwork Thurmaturgist

Satiated after a sumptuous repast, the members of the Xerxes Club repaired to the smoking room for postprandial brandies. After some appreciative murmurs about the quality of the liquor, there was a lull in the conversation.  “That was a passable tale you told over the roast Higginson old chap, yet you’ll not win the bet. Not by a long shot!”

“Years ago when I was just starting out in the business, I went through a period of following up all sorts of unlikely leads, on the chance that there was something there that most sensible people would ignore. I was reading a poor translation of a familiar Babylonian tract looking for any inconsistencies. The dashed thing was full of them, and the script was abominable! I was about ready to throw it away in disgust when I noticed a whole page where the scribe was blathering on about a key with peculiar qualities. Completely unrelated to the text. You have heard all this recent faff about a blind watchmaker? Well, think of this key as crafted by a blind locksmith. No lock, shackle nor bond was able to resist it. I at first wrote it off as poppycock, but as a lark decided to run it by a technomancer I’d recently heard about who was billing herself as the Clockwork Thaumaturgist.”

“When I got to her abode I nearly turned round then and there. Not out of fear mind you, but because the shingle above her door was so plain and shoddy it could have been that of a drunken cobbler. Upon seeing her man who opened the door however, I felt much more inspired. His livery was spotless and presentable, but he himself seemed not all there. He gave me a quick apology about difficulties with phase shifting, and led me in fits and starts to an audience chamber. Once again, my spirits sank, for the room was crammed with gewgaws and cheap gimcrackery such as mechanical nightingales wittering away and crystalline perpetual motion machines.”

“After a short wait, I was received by a mere slip of a girl that I took to be yet another servant, till she turned her head and I saw a flywheel where her cheek should be. She gave me a frank glance then had the temerity to ask me if I was sure I was wanted to engage her services for something as venal as pecuniary affairs! Wanting to hide my disdain - just in case there was something to her powers - I merely nodded. ‘Very well,’ said she ‘the price will be your shadow and all that it entails and implies!’”

Without hesitation I reached out and shook her hand. For a moment the very air glowed with opalescence of a multitude of colours, then things… changed. Her hand, which had first been lithe and pleasant to grasp, now felt cold and grainy. The tuneful warbling of the birds had become harsh and jarring. Nowadays I’m am used to these minor adjustments, and prefer it, but at the time it was most vexing.

Offering me a small smile, and bade me follow. Down a short hallway we came to a nondescript door which she flung open. The room - if indeed room it was - was cavernous, the walls distant and shrouded in writhing shadows. Suspended from an unglimpsed ceiling was a large orrey of astounding detail. Walking to a summoning circle that was currently overshadowed by mighty Jove much as Damocles by his fabled sword, she set about inscribing it with sigils and equations. From a nearby tool rack she selected a range of parts, pipes and tubing of copper, glass and some that had definitely been organic. After tightening the last screw, the Phillips head in her hand served double duty as a wand and she did an admirable job of Bartholomew's invocation in Old Eldritch.

The creature she summoned was all horned and befanged - a denizen of the ninth netherhell if I’m not mistaken. I knew not what dialect they communed in, but after a heated discussion it disappeared in an actinic flare. A mere moment later it did return, yet breathing heavily and with one arm hanging useless and bloody. ‘Here is your prize, wrested by my minion from Raoul Ibn Wazarik... the Djinn of the Trackless Namib. Yours now and fear ye no repercussions, this is not the first time that he has held something of interest to me.’

She escorted me back to the door which this time opened upon the street and sent me on my way, before I had uttered a single word in her presence. The key has served me well, and not just in the telling of simple wagers such as this!”

Picture source

Scientific Discourse

"Scales? Oh, my goodness no! Such a miss-informed opinion only hangs on in ‘popular’ culture my friend. You see, further research has shown that velociraptors are actually covered in feat-"

"Shut it and ruuuun, Doc!"

I've been lax at joining in at Five Sentence Fiction the past few weeks. Does just what it says on the tin, though I do my best to pare down my normal meandering sentences (unless it's for character). The topic this week is feathers. 

And I couldn't resist a scaled - and feathered - Velociraptor for an illustration.

Fantastic picture found here.

Ik-Naa

With every prod the fire crackled and danced, illuminating the night with vermillion flames. Nictitating membranes closed to guard against errant sparks, the Kthakii scanned the slumped corpses. Beardlings. Their watchfire had been ineffective for none of the lesser beings could make out the form of a Kthakii as it hunted silently on moonless nights such as this.

Ik-Naa reached out a dactyl and traced the hair that sprouted from the slain dwarf. Plaited together with the others, it would have made a decent first offer for a seat at the upcoming ritual. In hindsight it seemed that dismembering the delicately fingered Woodlander in a fit of pique had been… unwise. Severing the heads, Ik-Naa drew the sigil to create a niche Beyond, and placed them there for storage. Not deigning to taint its palate with such a lowly meat, the Kthakii vaulted to the air, wings flung wide.

Back at the colony Ik-Naa was unable to sleep, even long after the Sky Fire had driven all others deep underground. Reveling in the unfamiliar tingling on its scales, the Kthakii felt invigorated. Before long, Ik-Naa came to a solution that made it hiss with delight. It would summon a host of new prey, from other continuums, times and places. Tonight’s haul could still be put to good effect as a pitiful opening gambit, making the final offer even more striking. Truly, this would ensure a victory that would garner immense prestige.

Reaching into the space carved in No-Space, Ik-Naa roughly sheared the fibres from the trophy heads with a talon. Then - as an added insult to the other competitors - Ik-Naa wove the rope itself, rather than commanding a lesser race to do so. Next the Kthakii prepared a flayed hide with incantations and unguents. These ensured that the message would be translated and propagated to many worlds. When read, they would capture the entity’s essence, adding it to Ik-Naa’s collection. It paused for a moment, then began to write... With every prod the fire crackled and danced, illuminating the night with vermillion flames...

For Finish that Thought, you get the first sentence, and away you go. Just a day to write it, that's all. I didn't think I'd be able to play often, but such a short time frame does wonders for my attention span - or at least it has for the past two weeks. This time, the bonus challenge was to make it a cliff hanger. At first I thought yes, but now I'm thinking no. 

Do you see her much?

"Do I see her much?"

Only every time I close my eyes. When I blink. When I stare into space. When I can't sleep. In my dreams. Out the corner of my eye. Always.

"Nah, not really. We just drifted, you know?"



I've found a new lightning fast place to find prompts: Yeah Write

This is an entry for their Gargleblaster Challenge - it has to be 42 words on the dot, and open to the first 42 people. This week (#157), the prompt is Do you see her much?