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NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #3 - "weighless, breathless"

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A

Aaron

Member
Theme - "weightless, breathless"

Word Limit -1,000

All submissions that will be counted in the voting process should be in by Monday 3/24/2008 by 11:59 PM PST.

The voting will then begin on Tuesday 3/25/2008 at 12:00 am PST and go until Thursday 3/27/2008 11:59 pm PST

Previous Challenges:

#1 - "The Things Unseen"
#2 - "An Unlikely Pair"

Basic things to remember:

1) There are many ways to interpret the theme for this assignment, we are all writers or wanna-be writers, so keep that in mind when writing and critiquing others' works.

2) Spelling and Grammatical errors can be used to great effect when the story, characters, and setting demand it. However, proofreading and spell-checking your writing will probably result in a more positive attitude towards it when people are voting.

3) All submissions must be written during the time that the thread began until the due date. We don't want a snippet of your doctoral thesis from 1996 being used here.

4) Only one entry per poster. You can submit and then edit, if you'd like, but finalizing before submitting is highly encouraged.

5) Any writing style is welcome, but remember that most people are probably going to vote for the well written short story over an elementary acrostic poem.

6) There is a handy word count checker at www.wordcounttool.com Nobody wants to be a word count nazi, but please keep it under 1000 words.

7) Thousands of people read GAF, so if you don't want some masterpiece of yours to be stolen and seen in Hollywood a year from now, don't post it on here.

8) Using the topic as the title of your piece is highly discouraged. These challenges get a large number of submissions and if entries share the same titles, it's very difficult for the readers to separate them all out come voting time.

Voting Guidelines:

-Anyone can vote, even those that do not submit a piece during the thread.
-Three votes per voter. Please denote in your voting your 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place votes.
-First place votes count as 3, Second Place votes count as 2, and Third Place as 1 point.
-When voting period ends, votes will be tallied and the winner will get a collective pat on the back and will be in charge of picking a new topic to write about and pick the word length.
-Please read all submissions before voting, it is only fair to those who put in the effort.

NOTE TO THE WINNER:

-Generally, people have been comfortable with a 1000 word limit, but you get to choose to lower or raise the limit in the topic of your choice.

-When you start the new thread, please follow the naming scheme, NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge ## - "your topic here", then copy and paste this thread, changing the theme, due date, voting date, word count, and add the previous theme to the list at the bottom.

THE ENTRIES:

NITEWULF / LOST JULY - ernesto de la cruz chases down the man who killed a loved one
GREAT RUMBLER / A DISTANT CRY COMING OVER THE FACE OF THE WATERS - a space odyssey (2001 + event horizon + sunshine)
REVENTANT KIOKU / SLIPPERY WHEN WET - the dying thoughts of a girl drowning
CHEEBS / THE BEST STORY EVER - math, a stray dog, a wolf, a weight problem, a hospital?
RONITO / SALOME - a conductor's love for a ballerina
VALIS / THURSDAY NIGHT ASTRONAUTS - a bong brings a teenager as close as he'll get to his dream
MIKE WORKS / FINALLY - benjamin tries to hang himself on a tree before luc arrives
RUMPLEDFORESKIN / WEIGHTLESS, BREATHLESS - a kid has an allergic reaction to a turtleneck, or maybe it's the noose
CRUSHED / REMORA - vago dago and byron plan a heist from within a boarding school
OLDSCHOOLGAMER / LOVE AS RAIN IN SPACE - a man who cannot die laments lost love, in space (the fountain redux)
AARON / STRAIGHT SHOT - the first man to travel faster than the speed of light, it didn't go well (sequel to gattaca?)
CYAN / WESTERN FRIED SPAGHETTI - a man daydreams about being in a western during a child's band performance
SCRIBBLE / VACANT INFERNO - a man is a little nervous, but not altogether upset about going to hell
AZIH / FLOATING - a boxing story, but from a different perspective than we're used to
PEDROTHELION / THE KNIGHT - matthew's brother is taken to an asylum, but is he crazy?
BARRAGE / NOT SAFE ENOUGH - robot home security
ICEMAN / ELEVATOR MUSIC - an inferno and a daring downward plunge.

THE RESULTS:

Azih - 17
Cyan - 11 (1 first place vote, 4 second place votes)
Ronito - 11 (1 first place vote, 2 second place votes)
Mike Works - 10
Aaron - 8
Barrage - 7
Valis - 6
Nitewulf - 6
Scribble - 5
Crushed - 2
Iceman - 1
 
A

Aaron

Member
Hootie said:
*cough*

You misspelled "weightless" in the thread title.

Interesting choice nonetheless.
Click to expand...
I spent so much time rechecking the body of the message that I never glanced at the title after the first time. Serves me right.

Yes, it should be "weightless" not "weighless." Hopefully, everyone will realize my terrible mistake.
 
C

Cyan

Banned
This one will require some thought. There are a few obvious possibilities, but after last time, I'd rather go non-obvious.

Oh, and you could just PM a mod and ask them to fix the title for you.
 
N

nitewulf

Member
i'll opt out, i'll be very busy this week. unless i can whip something up after coming friday, during next weekend. good luck everyone.
 
N

nitewulf

Member
oh fuck it, it just came to me.

Word count: 997

Lost July

The water was cold. Refreshing like a subtle summer wind. It was blue, an imperfect imitation of the pale blue summer sky. Ester floated away, concentric circles radiating outward from the point where De La Cruz jumped into the pool slowly pushed her away farther and farther. Dark red, thick ink from the base of her head slowly mingled with the blue, like two nervous lovers, curious, but cautious.

De La Cruz swam towards Ester’s inert body and pulled her towards the edge of the pool. He cradled her head in his lap and sat motionless. Water dripped from their wet bodies, as Ester’s eyes stared up at nothing in particular. They were not pretty anymore, they will never be pretty again.

He was too late.

Sounds of sudden footsteps rushing away sent shock waves through De La Cruz’s body. He got up and ran towards the house. A figure ran out of the front gate with a briefcase in his hand. De La Cruz followed. The man ran uphill through the street towards the railroad tracks. During mid day, this part of the town was as quiet as a graveyard. Light and shadow played across the quiet tree lined street. There was nowhere for the man to hide as they ran along the street, across the tracks. There were no more trees after the tracks and the sun bared upon them with full force.

Ernesto De la Cruz’s handsome, brown face was haggard. Water drops fell across his forehead and accumulated at the corner of his eyebrows. They gained enough mass to fall down as he wiped his eyebrows. They ran down his cheeks, across his stubbles, leaving random tracks all over the surface of his skin. Finally the drops lost their body, to not be able to fall anymore, evaporating, like an old, tired man who lost his will to live.

A block away, Ester’s lover looked back at him. The man wore a pale blue coat, and khaki pants. He was lean and had a tennis player’s physique. The coat hugged his body so perfectly it hurt. He saw his own death coming his way. He threw the briefcase across a hedge of bushes and jumped over the hedge onto the backyard of a villa. Ernesto loosened his tie and kept up. They kept running, away from the villa and farther uphill towards the golf course.

There was nowhere to hide.

They zigzagged across the golf course like two forces of nature. Predator and prey. Hunter and hunted. De La Cruz breathed briskly and kept his sight straight as he ran along, years of soccer kept his steps confident. Quick. He was as agile as a Doberman.

The hot, mid day sun bared down on them with fury. A primeval force, weighing down on saints and sinners alike.

The golf course was wide open, empty on a weekday. With a few patches of bushes here and there, and some tall trees creating shade amidst the sunlit, grassy, vista.

They ran across a grassy knoll, the man breathed heavily now, as his steps became less determined, less sure of themselves. He wheezed and flailed. De La Cruz was weightless, like an alien force, an automated device created for a singular purpose.

A few tall trees created a shaded region at the base of the knoll, in stark contrast to the surrounding plane which burned under the hot sun.

Finally the man in pale blue gave up and threw down the briefcase. The briefcase broke open, as it hit the base of a tree. Bundles of cash rolled out of it, as did a passport and some documents. The objects all lay still, as still as the air surrounding them. The air hanged heavily, as if waiting for something to happen.

The man couldn’t run anymore. He had no more energy, his will power slowly seeped away from his body, like sweat drops pouring out of his skin.

“It was an accident De La Cruz, I didn’t mean to kill her.”

De La Cruz didn’t say anything, and kept running towards him.

“Stop De La Cruz. Stop. Let me explain.”

De La Cruz put momentum behind his left hook, as the man stepped away, the blow glanced the left side of his face. However he was caught by De La Cruz’s swift right on his ribs, which came almost simultaneously. De La Cruz didn’t stop. He didn’t know how. He felt light, as a feather. Programmed, as he grabbed the man’s face and brought it down to his upcoming knee. The man dropped on his knees, he shivered like a wet kitten, blood dripped down his smashed nose.

De La Cruz grabbed him by the hair and punched him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times.

He pulled the man up by the throat and pushed him against a tree and unleashed a flurry of hard jabs at the man’s ribs. He felt bones cracking under the weight of his rage. The man fell sideways in slow motion, as if gravity changed its laws at that particular point. His eyes stared up at the sky, trying to focus on something, perhaps his long, lost past, a wonderful summer day when he and Ester chased each other across the same golf course, weightless, like two soft, tiny birds. Finally his eyes gave up and rolled up within their sockets and his face lolled to one side. He stopped breathing.

De La Cruz looked up towards the sun, from the shade. Unsure of his purpose. His body slowly changed its pugilistic stance and his muscles relaxed. His knuckles loosened as a cool breeze blew across the plane intermingling with his fury. They reached a thermodynamic balance. He was out of breath. He took his cell-phone out of his pocket and made a call to the police. Then he lay down on the grass and stared up at the clear, blue sky. A falcon drifted up very, very far away.
 
G

Great Rumbler

Member
Word Count: 995

A Distant Cry Coming over the Face of the Waters

“Aura, start a sensor sweep of the area,” Richard said once the ship had stabilized its orbit, “Then package all the data and send a compact burst back toward Earth. I’ll check on the engine and make sure its okay.”

“Hold on a moment, Commander,” Aura interrupted, “I’m detecting a fault with the primary sensor array.”

“Can you fix it from here?”

“No, Commander, the problem appears to be manual in nature.”

If it was just a bug in the system, Aura would be able to take care of it in no time. But manual…that meant EVA.

“Alright, standby to open the airlock.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Richard crawled through the cramped corridors and conduit-filled tunnels of the ship as he made his way to the airlock. The less he had to make that particular trip, the better.
Aura opened the inner door and he stepped into the airlock. There was a loud hiss as air was pulled out of the tiny room. Then, silence. The outer door slid open and Richard floated out into open space.

He grabbed a handhold on the hull and snapped a line onto it. His tool box followed him out, coaxed by a tiny, mechanical arm. With a deft hand, he caught it and attached it to his belt.

Everything looked okay, no scorch marks or punctures to indicate any signs of damage. The primary sensor array was attached to the top of the ship and was comprised of all the equipment they needed to get good readings. Without it, the trip was practically pointless.

“Can you pinpoint the exact position of the fault?”

“The damage appears wide-spread, Commander. I cannot detect any single fail-point.”

“Great.”

Most of the innards of the array had been fried, probably by an ion storm as they were coming through the tunnel. Aura did say that their path might take them close to several stars.

“It’s pretty bad.” Richard reported through the radio in his helmet, “I’ll fix as much as I can, but you’ll have to bypass some of the damaged circuits.”

“Commander, that course of action is not advisable. Bypassing damaged circuits may result in unforeseen problems later in the mission.”

“Just do it, we’ll deal with those problems when they show up.”

“Yes, Commander. Now shutting down all non-essential systems.” Aura replied, “It is advisable that you return to the airlock prior to the rebooting of the ship’s secondary systems.”

“See you on the other side, Aura.”

The lights from the ship dimmed and then faded away. All contact with Aura was effectively severed, leaving Richard alone on the hull of the ship.

He worked quickly; the longer the ship was offline the more time for something to go wrong. Richard never worried too much, though. He just faced each problem with resolve and made sure that it got fixed in its own time. That was one of the reasons he’d been picked for the mission, after all.

An hour later, the last piece snapped into place. Richard banged his fist three times on the hull. The lights on the ship blinked and came back online.

“Aura, what’s…”

The words had barely left his mouth when a concussive blast struck him square in the chest, knocking him backward. A hole gaped unevenly in the side of the ship, ejecting atmosphere into space. Richard reached the end of the tether and it instantly snapped, sending him into stomach-churning spiral.

“Commander, power rerouted through the oxygen circulators has caused one of the tanks to fail,” Aura said calmly, “We are leaking oxygen at a dangerous rate.”

“I can tell!” He yelled, panic quickly setting in. “Hurry and plot a course for intercept!”

“I’m sorry, Commander. The navigational software has not yet been powered up.”

“Power up all navigational software, priority one!”

“Very well, Commander. All navigation equipment is now coming online.”

“Plot a course for intercept!”

“I’m sorry, Commander. Intercept not possible given current distance, speed, and acceleration.” The voice was cold and emotionless, as always.

“Aura!”

“I’m sorry, Commander.”

“For God’s sake, Aura, help me!”

“I’m sorry…”

Richard reached down to his belt and hit the switch for the jets on his suits. They fired for several minutes, slowing him down considerably and stopping his spin. However, the local gravity was already increasing at an alarming rate. He managed to twist around and came face to face with that monstrous beast.

The destroyer of worlds and of galaxies. A force more powerful than any in the entire universe. All else was but a fly spec compared to that power. It ate and ate, trying to satiate an appetite that could never be filled. It had no remorse or pity for those who happened to fall prey to its black maw. It knew neither friend nor foe, only food. It was living, breathing nothingness.

His arms stretched out before him like the tails of two vast comets, impossibly long and flapping uselessly in the void that was quickly engulfing him. A great weight pressed against his chest and another great weight pulled at him from every gulf, threatening to rip his body apart. He grasped at his helmet, trying to desperately to find a way to get one last breath, not that it mattered.

Time itself was becoming twisted and distorted. Each second, an hour. The beat of his heart reverberated through his mind, counting down until the inevitable end. Each time it came slower. Each time it came louder. Each time he was one beat closer.

With one final twist, he ripped off the helmet and…saw…with his own eyes. No one had ever been that close before, no one had ever seen it like this. He was the first to truly see that dark void that pierced the very fabric of space and continued into the unknown. He was the first.

Maybe I’ll get to see what’s on the other side, he thought as his heart beat once more. Somehow…it was worth it.

Great Rumbler - A Distant Cry Coming over the Face of the Waters
 
R

RevenantKioku

PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS oh god i am drowning in them
Slippery When Wet

I slipped.

That's it. That's all there is to it. This isn't noble. This isn't heroic. It will go down as stupid. Although I doubt I'll end up in one of those books that talk about how stupid people die. I laughed while reading those books. My friends teased when that girl had the same name as me. I never really thought about death, I guess. But I did think about dying by getting electrocuted by a vibrator in the bathtub. I mean she had the same name as me and everything.

Does it matter if I start peeing? I think I already am. That's even better. Young woman drowns, found with dirty panties. I can't believe that guy wanted to watch me pee. What if I did it though? Maybe the relationship wouldn't have ended and maybe I wouldn't be where I am now. There's a thought. Damn dignity ruining my life. Just a little tinkle would have saved my life!

I guess that it will be deemed tragic? It wasn't supposed to be this way! I was just taking a break from the books. I had to be so traditional and go for a walk, didn't I? I don't deserve this! No one ever said this lake was so deep. This isn't my fault! Shouldn't I be floating anyway? I shouldn't have eaten that whole cake this morning.

I wonder what everyone will think first. Will they think I snapped and ran away? But why wouldn't I take anything? Kidnapped? Oh, my father is going to think I was kidnapped and am being raped, isn't he? He always worries too much. It helped me but will he be relieved to find out I died without being violated moments prior? Is that some sort of sick relief or is it justifiable?

Wow. There's more time now than I thought there would be. You'd think I'd be out of breath already. I'm starting to get bored. What the hell am I talking about I've got to fight! Focus! Shit, I'm starting to feel apathetic about the whole thing. Aren't there seven stages to dealing with a problem? Why did I buy a self-help book anyway, things were all well enough, weren't they?

What can I say? My last thought will be soon. Last thought. Ever. No more thoughts? Isn't that a question you answer for one of those damn silly icebreaker games? "What do you want your last words to be?" Probably answer with something silly like "I can't believe I ate the whole thing." Damn, I hated those damn games. Not like I didn't answer similarly in hopes someone would find it adorable.

Shouldn't I be floating? Why can't I move my arms? Shouldn't I be trying to swim? I think I am? I want to live! Am I giving up or am I just accepting what is?

Am I supposed to be this nonchalant about it? Is this 'right'? Shouldn't I be crying? Am I crying? I'm crying. There is nothing at all I can do. Is there? Isn't there? Push! Move! Go! Let's go oh my dear god I'm really going to die aren't I never really lived.

Where am I? Why is this going on? What happened? When will it end? Who am I?
 
A

AlteredBeast

Fork 'em, Sparky!
I am still overworked and underpaid with my two jobs, but I am off from both on Wednesday, at which point I hope to contribute to this weeks assignment. Last week, I couldn't find any time to write, much less read all the submissions to give a fair vote.

I am just happy this thing has been successful so far. :) Keep it up everyone!
 
A

AlteredBeast

Fork 'em, Sparky!
Hey Aaron, can you edit the OP and add


Previous Challenges:

#1 - "The Things Unseen"
#2 - "An Unlikely Pair"


This will make the last part of the template that we use actually make sense. :)
 
C

Cheebs

Member
I used a online story generator on google. It had fill in the blank parts so I wrote it just now so it counts. This story is amazing and 100% fits the rules I SAY

The Best Story Ever
You won't believe it, but about a month ago in my bedroom. I was looking in the mirror when I realized that something wasn't right. You have probably had that experience before. I felt a cold chill, and I knew that soon I would have to make a decision. My friend Michelle had called me the previous day, and told me all about Chris's problem with the stray dog that was acting strangely, and I was a little worried about what would happen. Then, all of a sudden, I saw coming through the doorway what I realized was a snarling wolf, and right then I realized I was good looking! I remembered what my math teacher had told me about a situation like this. It was very important that I not forget my manners. Very calmly, I said a little prayer and realized I was no longer afraid. Before I knew it, I was in the hospital, and I discovered that I needed to lose a few pounds. So you see, I really almost died, and I decided I had to tell you all about it.
 
I

Iceman

Member
Good stories so far. Except for the google random story generator one. Yikes.

Man, drowing + in space + fly like a butterfly/sting like a bee all already taken...

Good thing I have another idea up my sleevies.

Somebody's bound to use this one as well, though. I think it's the next most obvious scenario.
 
R

ronito

Member
Salome - 650 words

There are those that say that a conductor is as close to a sorcerer as anything in real life and I can understand why they'd say that. With a flick of my baton I can banish out silence and bring glorious sound. I can lift the soul up to happiness or lead it to sadness. With invisible threads I build cathedrals of sound. Yet for all my ability, for all that I can do, none of it can compare to the magic she unleashes on the stage.

To call her a ballerina seems wrong. As a conductor I've met many ballerinas, and she is somehow more than that. She does more than just dance. It is more than art. She pulls feelings from your very heart. Her movements etch their story to your very soul and for a moment you feel more than alive. She is like Salome. That famous daughter of Herodias, whose dance of the seven veils could so bewitch any who beheld it they would give her anything she desired. I don't know the ballerina's name, we've never been introduced so I call her Salome.

My mind seems numb as I move my baton through the air weaving the music as I wait for her appearance, yet my heart quickens as I know the moment of her appearance draws near. The moments of anticipation seem impossibly long and short at the same time as I wait for the Ritual Fire Dance to come. And finally the time comes.

I can never tell if there is silence before I begin. I guess there is, but all I hear is the pounding of my heart. I raise my baton and with lower it quickly. The violins start with their trills. Back and forth, back and forth louder and quieter like the ocean ebbing at a beach. Then she appears. Clothed in red she twists and writhes on stage, a living flame.

I raise the baton again and the basses come in slowly plodding their way across the music. Her movements get more erratic. The clarinets come in and she begins to spin. My heart races. My breath comes in short puffs. Finally the moment comes. I slam the baton down and the whole orchestra explodes in a fury of sound. On stage Salome is joined by a burst of dancers in a cacophony of movement. She leaps among them almost as if she has mastered gravity and makes it bend to her will. She flies through the ether of the moment I created for her like a hummingbird.

The music speeds on to its inevitable end. Faster and faster. I move my baton wildly like a man possessed and the orchestra follows me willingly caught in the rapture of the moment. We come to the climax of the piece. My heart pounds in my ears. I can no longer hear the music. But still my baton swishes through the air, leading, commanding. I find myself holding my breath as the music speeds up and up and Salome writhes, spins and jumps. One final glorious jump she seems to hang in the air impossibly long, as if she weighed nothing. Then my baton falls. The music ends. The lights are dimmed. Salome is gone. It is over. Behind me I know the crowd is applauding. Before me the musicians rustle through their sheets preparing for the next piece as if nothing happened.

I finally release my breath and slump a little as I begin the next piece. Yet as the first notes of music pierce the air clearing the memory of the fire dance from the audience my mind is already on the next performance. It is what I've come to live for. The next opportunity I will get to see my Salome dance the fire dance again. Where she will again be weightless, and I again will be breathless.
 
A

Aaron

Member
Iceman said:
Good stories so far. Except for the google random story generator one. Yikes.

Man, drowing + in space + fly like a butterfly/sting like a bee all already taken...

Good thing I have another idea up my sleevies.

Somebody's bound to use this one as well, though. I think it's the next most obvious scenario.
Click to expand...
I think the important thing to remember is not what the idea is but how you expand upon it, so I wouldn't worry about it too much. There were three card game themed stories last time and none of them were anything alike.

Sadly I'm in the 'I don't know when I'll have time for this' group, but I hope to at least get it started tonight.
 
Barrage

Barrage

Member
Definently digging your story, ronito. You might just want to spell check it one more time, just to tighten it up.
 
R

ronito

Member
Barrage said:
Definently digging your story, ronito. You might just want to spell check it one more time, just to tighten it up.
Click to expand...
really? I've run it through two now. What'd I get wrong?
 
R

ronito

Member
Barrage said:
.





The Invisibles line was the main offender-I immediately thought of the comic book, and it took me a a paragraph or two to shake it.
Click to expand...
LOL. Sorry, I suck. Fixed now.
 
I

Iceman

Member
ronito, a couple more typos.

ronito said:
Salome - 650 words
Clothed in red she twists and writhes on stage, a living flame.

I slam the baton down and the whole orchestra explodes in a fury of sound.

For the moment (cut)the(/cut) she will again be weightless and I will again be breathless.
Click to expand...

I would remove the last line entirely. It doesn't add to the piece, except as a nice helping of cheese. You gracefully avoid delving into cheese territory otherwise. The story is clearly written with the original prompt in mind so there is no need to declare it in the final sentence.

It's a great piece otherwise, punctuation problems notwithstanding. It's my early front runner.
 
V

VALIS

Member
I haven't written fiction in 10 years, and even then I didn't do it very often, so I'm just winging it here. But I had nothing to do tonight and just started typing. 1008 words. If you really need me to, I'll remove the other 8 from somewhere.



Thursday Night Astronauts

Richard handed the red Bic over to Gonzalez who wasted no time in positioning himself over top of the plastic bong, and, turning the lighter upon the grass in the bowl, made an overly dramatic sucking sound as he inhaled a lungful of smoke while the water chamber bubbled and sputtered. The forest green weed blazed with neon orange highlights, a seed popped from the heat, the air filled with the scent of butane and ashes.

"Alright, c'mon, give it back," Richard impatiently demanded.

Gonzalez casually handed back the lighter and the bong while leaning back on the couch and with a wry smile on his face, exhaled a torrent of smoke in a powerful straight line towards David Letterman on the TV set.

"Good shit," Gonzalez then said with a hoarse chuckle. "Good shit. Who did you get this from again? Cheryl?"

Cheryl was Richard's girlfriend but Richard was too busy to answer, bong held snugly to his face like it was an oxygen mask on a crashing airplane as he sucked in another hit. Gonzalez reclined even further into the old, rose print couch and stared ahead with one of those I'm-here-but-I'm-not looks in his eyes that you get about ten minutes in.

No one said another word for a good twenty minutes until Richard - apparently engrossed in what was happening on the TV set, or at least pretending to be - shattered the silence with an awful, overblown laugh that sounded like it came from a cartoon hyena. Something like, "hee-nee-heeeee-hee-hee." It was hideous and hilarious at the same time and Gonzalez couldn't help but laugh himself.

"What the fuck's so funny," Gonzalez asked at the end of his laugh.

"Did you just see that," Richard asked with sheer enthusiasm like he just saw an atom being split on live TV. "That was hil-arious," with extra, drawn-out emphasis on the word 'hilarious.'

Gonzalez shrugged it off figuring either what Richard found so funny wasn't that funny anyway, or there's no way in hell he could possibly explain it in the state he's currently in. Instead his mind drifted to what it usually did when he was stoned, and that was imagining he was an astronaut. Making space walks, staring out at mysterious purple planets from the confines of his ship, floating around in deep space; whatever the hell it was astronauts did.

See, Gonzalez hasn't had the greatest of lives to this point. His father left him and his mother when he was six, and his mother isn't exactly a paragon of virtue herself what with her DUIs and the not-so-secret parade of men she sneaks into her bedroom nearly every weekend when she thinks Gonzalez is either asleep or not at home. She tries her best, though, and Gonzalez knows that. So, anyway, not too long after the bomb that was "Your father doesn't live here anymore" rattled his world, Gonzalez started thinking about Astronautics. Or, more specifically, imagining floating through space, above it all, in a deep, ink-black sea of stars. Daydreams, at night, whenever. He'd go back to this image all the time through his childhood, anytime he felt bad, or lonely, or even bored. Of course when he got older, older than he is right now stoned out of his tree on Richard Weismuller's mother's shitty rose print couch, he'd realize what it all meant. Why an astronaut, why floating, why all of it. But for now, he just liked that the pot brought him closer to it. When you daydream, the rational part of your mind always likes to butt in and remind you that you're daydreaming and what you're imagining right now will never happen. Well, marijuana was like a mental bodyguard. When the rational part of the mind tried to wreck the party, Mr. Weed stepped in and said, "You mind waiting outside for a couple hours? We got shit to do here." Gonzalez often pledged to himself that he'd smoke pot every day for the rest of his life if he could.

He often contemplated telling these things to Richard; what he thinks about when they get stoned, how messed up he was when his father left him, those sort of things, but you don't do that. You don't tell your guy friends what your deeper thoughts are, and you sure as hell don't do it at 17-years old. Not unless you want to get laughed at for a few weeks. "And besides," Gonzalez thought to himself, "if I told any of this to Richard he'd probably just make jokes like, 'How the hell is a dumb Puerto Rican from New Jersey gonna be an astronaut?'" And of course he'd be right. Gonzalez didn't need to hear it.

They were both woken out of their woozy contemplations, which must have been going on for an hour now, by a fierce shrieking from the back bedroom in Richard's run down single floor house. "Richard! That better not be pot I smell and it's after midnight and you have school tomorrow," coming at them in a barrage and in a tone that promised a lot more violence and retribution than a 46-year old, 140lb. divorced mother of three could possibly deliver.

"Bah. You'd better go," Richard said with a shrug as he peeled himself out of the La-Z-Boy for the first time in three hours and walked towards the front door.

Gonzalez unsteadily rose to his feet and followed him to the door. "And besides," Richard said with a shit-eating grin as Gonzalez passed him through the corridor, "Your mom is probably naked in bed and waiting for you to come home to her already."

"Fuck you asshole," Gonzalez said through a laugh and punched him on the arm with a raised knuckle, hard enough to give him a good stinger. He jogged toward the street and began to make his way home with Richard laughing and launching curses into the night air from his doorstep. The capsule has splash landed, another successful mission.
 
G

Green Shinobi

Banned
All I can think about when I read this prompt is

hal.jpg
 
M

Mike Works

Member
'Finally'


"Dearest Luc. I just can't go on living this way. I'll always love you."
- Ben

As far as suicide notes go, it was certainly succinct. At least that's what I assume, I've never read an actual suicide note before. Not a real one. Have you? Probably not. I mean, we've all seen them in movies. Montages of grown men weeping, tears tickling their cheeks as they roll off, splattering the fresh ink on page 47 of 'Life Is Hard And I'm A Pussy'. Granted, I do suppose if you are going to commit to the effort of explaining your shattered state of mind, one would probably want to take their time.

I had rope and a chair. I did not have time.

I knew he would be the first to get here and I knew he would get here fast. It was a difficult decision to die in such a manner, but in the end there was no other choice. Hanging myself is the only thing that makes sense. I am at peace with this. My only worry now is that he won't understand.

The tall, hollowed oak tree lays it's shadow across my forearms. I find myself staring at his name on the paper. My gates inside burst open. My urge, my dire want to write so much more came rushing relentless. What if he doesn't understand? He has to. Christ, I'm shivering. I haven't shivered in years.

My right hand gently placed the note face up against one of the tree's unearthed roots as my left scooped up a small, speckled grey pebble. It wasn't until I crouched down to place the tiny rock over the paper that I realized there was no need to weigh the note down. There is no wind. There never is over here. I look at the pebble sitting in the palm of my weathered hand and hope that picking it up is the only mistake I will make today. The smooth stone rubbing gently against my calluses makes me smile. In my second to last act of defiance, I hurl it into the lake. I am up on the chair before it hits the surface.

The coarse fibers of the rope's neck scratch my cheeks as I allow the noose to slip over my head. I feel the need to take one last symbolically deep breath, and so I do. My shoulders sag with the exhale. He has to understand. I pull the rope tight.

"Where is he? Benjamin! Where is he?"

It was him. A deep orange light began to pour out of the cavern's opening. I slowly raise my right foot, my eyes never leaving the ever brightening amber glow. His vague shadow flows out like molasses along the tunnel wall, gradually growing smaller the closer he reaches. This anticipation is unbearable. Maybe I should just do it now. I should just close my eyes and get it over with. What will happen if I see him? What if I can't do it?

Despite ample warning, the quickness in which he shot out of the tunnel's gape caught me off guard. Our stares met instantly. His normally dominating pupils were now surrounded by an ocean of white glazed in shock. I can't look away. His eyes almost yell louder than his voice.

"Benjamin! What are you doing?"

I can't close my eyes.

"Benjamin."

We both knew what was coming next, and yet we were both frozen. He has to understand. He has to.

I kicked the back of the chair as hard as I could.

Different senses shoot inside my head like champagne corks. The distant, tinned sounds he makes kicking up shoreline pebbles. The tingling sensation of my body flowing weightless like a kite below the rope. My tongue shooting out and tasting nothing but the air I can't breathe. He reaches me, but stops before the note. He has to understand. As he reaches down to pick it up, I finally find the strength to close my eyes. Please understand. Please.

His laughter tore the air and shook the earth.

I peak one eye open just in time to see him close his mouth. He paused, shaking his head through a grin, and then spoke.

"You're one crazy asshole, Benjamin, I'll give you that."

I finally did it.

I finally made him laugh.


Mike Works - Finally
 
R

ronito

Member
Iceman said:
ronito, a couple more typos.



I would remove the last line entirely. It doesn't add to the piece, except as a nice helping of cheese. You gracefully avoid delving into cheese territory otherwise. The story is clearly written with the original prompt in mind so there is no need to declare it in the final sentence.

It's a great piece otherwise, punctuation problems notwithstanding. It's my early front runner.
Click to expand...
lol. I really do suck. That's what I get for writing something in one 30 minute setting. I've made the changes. You're absolutely right about the last line. It's one of those lines you regret writing the moment you post it. But it wouldn't be fair to make any changes to the structure of it after posting it. I can understand changing spellings and stupid mistakes, but lifting parts out after entering I wouldn't feel comfy doing.

Thanks so much for the help. I'll take more care next time.
 
R

ronito

Member
Got through reading. Great stuff everyone. Here's my feedback on the entries so far.

Nitewulf: Very well done. I like the images, the golf course, the falcon. Very nice. My fave so far.
GreatRumbler: A bit too much like 2001.
RevenantK: I don't know what to make of it. The whole thing seems so confused. But then that's probably on purpose. I need to digest it more.
Valis: Interesting. I see what you're getting at, but it did feel a little weighed down by the guy's whole past thing. Really in a story this short we don't need to know much about the character. Still I like it.
MikeWorks: Hmm...I know what you're getting at. And definitely the thing had its moments that line about having a rope and a chair but not time was brilliant. Still the ending was a bit jarring and not as strong as the rest of the piece. This one I need time to think about as well.
 
Cauliflower of Love

Cauliflower of Love

Banned
weightless, breathless

-------------------------------------

I always get this itch on my neck, this time it’s a little bit worse though. Could it be this stupid turtleneck? These things really should be washed before wearing, god knows how many people with rashes try them on at the store.

I guess my parents are finally home, the sound of that beat up Taurus is unmistakable. I still can’t believe my mom hit that curb and tried to deny it. Yeah, like nobody can hear the clank clank clank sound everytime you turn left, mom.

Maybe today we won’t have that same old tired and trite conversation we always have about my day, and their day, and why I’m not out with my “friends”. Maybe I’ll be extra lucky and she’ll suggest I hang out with one of her friend’s daughter! For the millionth time. Those girls are more pathetic than me. This damn shirt I swear, I feel like I’m having an allergic reaction, I’m starting to have a little trouble breathing. Feels kinda like that one time I found out I was allergic to peanuts. I almost died that day, how fucking fun was that, haha. Everybody visited me and said they were so happy to see me pull through. It was nice, until I got better and they stopped saying anything to me at all.

I wonder how long I can keep balancing this chair on two legs, I feel like a california surfer riding the waves. Back and forth, back and forth. I’m gonna bust my ass soon, I know it. Ah well, gotta keep riding the waves! They must have gone grocery shopping, they’re taking unusually long to come and check up on me. “Get off that damn computer!” is the first thing they tell me. I wonder what they see that makes then change their tone and ask me about my day. Can’t say that today though, I’m actually tired of that damn computer. Today, I ride the waves.

Shit, there goes the chair. That’s weird…it’s like I’m floating. This is what space must feel like. Did I have any peanuts today? Cause I can’t breathe at all.

No, I didn’t even eat at all today. Stupid dicks always pushing me around in the cafeteria. It’s like I’m literally throwing money away. I’ve never felt this burning sensation with any of my other allergies. It’s like rugburn or something.

Haha, my feet are just dangling, I must look like a marionette in storage right now. I guess it’s true that the noose breaks your neck right before you pass out and die.

------------------------------------------

RumpledForeskin - weightless, breathless
 
C

Crushed

Fry Daddy
Remora
_________________

"So after that, I got a new nickname. Guess what it is."

"Mmyes," Mr. Bryon mumbled while he scrawled thin red marks and words on his students' papers. "That's very interesting, Vincent."

"Wha..." The heavyset man who was standing to the right of Mr. Bryon's desk straightened up, rumpling his janitor's uniform as he crossed his arms and frowned. "You ain't even listenin', are you. You always do this." He crooked his head sideways, letting some of his dirty hair escape from underneath the edge of his cap.

Slowly the teacher lowered his shoulders and raised his head in unison, stopped, and then turned his thin face towards the janitor. His eyes, a quarter-closed and slightly dulled from the late night of tiring work, still pierced their target. That target didn't move an inch, but kept his nonplussed appearance.

"And 'Vince.' You know, you got angry at me when I called you 'Richy,' but now that the shoe's on the other foot you don't have anything to say, huh Rick."

Bryon winced. "Not Richy, not Rick, my name is Richter, you know that, you were just doing that to make me angry weren't you."

"Heh heh, yup. So anyway, I got my new nickname. Vince the Vago Dago."

Richter's mouth dropped a little, he squinted even more, his eyebrows jumped. "The Vago Dago? What the hell does that even mean?"

"The doc told me I got vago vaso, I'm Italian, so-"

"It's vasovagal."

"...Eh, same thing, you still get the idea," Vince grinned. His fat cheeks and red face made the janitor look like the personification of content happiness. While he didn't squint like Richter, Vince's tiny black eyes were still almost impossible to see, but twinkled in an odd way that let someone know their expression. "But enough of that stuff. You finished gradin' yet? I wanna get this show on the road, man."

Richter's eyes started to regain their sharpness. "Ah yes. I'm finished here, we can finally go. I believe it's the right time."

The private boarding school that they worked for had been built by an eccentric philanthropic billionaire who had served as its first headmaster. Saying that he always wanted to be close to the school he held so dear, he had a passage built from the school building to his own estate about three miles away. Harry Potter fan, maybe. After the man had died and his son took over the school and estate, the passage was sealed off on both sides for safety concerns, and to guide the school away from what was viewed as the strange quirks of an old coot.

They didn't know about the second entrance and exit. Vince had found notes from the old headmaster stashed in odd locations, most of them rambling from the man's senile last days. But the hidden doors had piqued his interest. Not wanting his secret to be known by all, Vince had waited until one night when a thunderstorm had knocked out the power and thus disabled the security cameras near the front of the school where the second entrance was supposedly located. Finding it indeed to be hidden behind a display case as written, the portly man had run to the other end, too excited to consider somebody on the other side. Luckily, the "other side" had turned out to be a false floor in the billionaire's home chapel, which was vacant during all days but Easter and Christmas. The chapel, conveniently, had no security system and was located right next door to an art room containing priceless works.

He had told Richter all this after much deliberation, and the rest unfolded. Richter, being good with computers, had created a false loop which he put in after Vince unlocked the security room door for him. The fake video, complete with pre-recorded bits of Vince and Richter leaving through the front door at different times in a building several miles away, would be their alibi in case any suspicion fell on them. Vince ran to the front, unlocked the tunnel entrance, and waited for Richter to arrive after the teacher grabbed the appropriate equipment for retrieving and carrying their haul. The two would stash it in the tunnel, and slowly take pieces of it to a storage unit over time.

Vince had been waiting for about twenty minutes when Richter, clad in his usual black, glided his thin tall frame down the tunnel where Vince was waiting. Vince always thought that the teacher's way of walking reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite place the name. If he had ever finished high school, he would have known that he was looking for "marionette."

Richter was staring at the wall where the halfway mark was placed.

"What took ya so long?"

"I had to wait. That way the security camera will see me arriving only after hearing a suspicious noise, which the recording will show was your prying the way open into the tunnel. I run down here, find you with robber's gear, subdue and tie you with your own rope, and call the police, who arrive to find only the rope lying on the floor."

"...wha..."

"Sorry Vincent. You never had any weight in this. When people look back on this affair, this part will simply be 'Richter enters the prison.'"

Vince stared, confused out of his mind, as Richter began to tear open the panels on the wall. A hole was revealed; no, another tunnel, a staircase. Something rotten was down there. A noise like a roar and a screech at once hit Vince in the face. Richter began to walk down the passage.

Huffing, Vince felt woozy. The world spun. Lying on the floor, things fading out of focus and turning black, the hyperventilation turned into nonventilation as his throat clutched and his beady eyes bugged and showed themselves for the first and last time.

"Oh, and Vince. Seriously, Vago Dago? You fucking moron."

____________________


Bah, 1000-word limit. I tried to keep the whole explanation of the tunnel thing short but still make it fit, but I think I failed in that regard.


Crushed - Remora
 
O

Oldschoolgamer

The physical form of blasphemy
Love as rain in space (708)

"Do you love me like rain in space?"

"Madam, I'm not sure I follow you."

"The moon does cry at night, and all of its sparkles twist and turn under the cover of darkness. My question to you is, do you love my like rain in space?"

"If rain was in space would it not be rain?"

"My dear, my dear sweet husband. If we were to step under the clouds of grey covering the illuminated enchantress and water splashed upon our foreheads, wouldn't that mean that it too cries like us."

"Madam, I'm not your..."

"And if we danced under flashes of yellow light, amongst the peasants in the market, by the fountain where we met, would you not have a glorious time, my love?"

"I would, but, how does rain in space love?"

"No, rain in space does not love. If it did, then that would mean that rain had feelings just like you and I. We may get splashes of joy here and there, but, rain drops don't say "I love or I hate you" whenever they dance amongst the heads of you and I."

"No, they don't but..."

"I remember the last time we danced in the rain. Twas a glorious night . Our naked bodies moving against the wind, under the clouds' cries of happiness for our love for each other. Your rod pulsating inside me as I lay on the grass, beckoning your name. Lecard. Lecard. Lecard! Surely the Gods were jealous."

"As beautiful as you are, surely they were my love. There is one thing. If rain comes from the clouds, aren't those in the skies. Space is in the heavens, is it not?"

"Do you reject the notion of my love?"

"What? Of course not. Why would you believe as such?"

"Well...it's nothing. I assure you. Just kiss me again."

*****

"Baby. Do you love me like rain in space?"

"Haha. There is no rain in space."

"Do comets not fall onto planets."

"Er...that's not the type of rain you were describing though. Was it?"

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't."

"I love you when you give me that cute smile."

"I know. Now answer my question Leonard."

"If rain was in space, it would be nothing more than ice, floating towards wherever gravity pulls it. It can not love. However, if it did, I would love you as much, if not more."

*****

One would might say it sucks to swim here amongst the stars, for an eternity. My only memory is such. How I loved to dance in the rain, have sex in the rain, and kiss in the rain. It reminded me of home. It reminded me of her. Now all I have is a statement. A confession of her love for me. It replays in my mind constantly to remind me of the joy I've felt. Twice I've been with her. Never marrying her for two of her lifetimes. I can still feel the places on my neck, where she would "accidentally" give me a hickey. I can still feel her warm embrace around my body, where she would hold me during our cold nights in Italy. Poor we were. I couldn't take care of her like I needed to, and for that I suffer constantly. I sold my soul to be with her forever, and she was taken away from me.

Oh how I've tried to kill myself. Many nights I would fall into the sun, head first. And...and I would leave with no harm upon body. People lose their eyesight just from looking at it to long, and I can't even die from flying straight into. Everything in the book I've tried. No knife can pierce my heart, no smoke can stop my lungs from taking in air. No bullet to the head can pause my thoughts, and even without a head, my body keeps on moving.

I've loved you two times. I'd love you three lifetimes if I could. I'm sorry I can't be with you, wherever you are. I have to be nothing whenever you are.

If you've tasted tears of salt my lady, just know its me. Know that the rain does love you, and that I'll never see you again.

Oldschoolgamer - Love as Rain in Space
 
I

Iceman

Member
I've finished a story. But I'm going to write another idea I have bouncing around up there and see which one I prefer, or rather a friend of mine prefers. My submission might not be ready until Sunday. I have been keeping up with the other stories though, so I'm pretty happy with that.
 
A

Aaron

Member
Straight Shot
word count: 992

"What was it like?"

I shift my grip on the glass, feeling the bubbles of imperfections on its surface, just like the inflection that passes for an accent here. Every evening for the last eight months I'd leave the grey box of my apartment for the darker, larger box of the local bar, and each night another grey blob would take the seat opposite me without so much as a hello. Just the same damn question.

"It was supposed to be a shake down run. Just a straight shot from the Moon to Mars with a live human on board. They already tried it with a chimp, and he came out okay. Little frazzled maybe." The words flow from my lips, just the way the booze flows down my throat. It was harsh stuff when I first arrived, hard on the stomach, but one of us has mellowed over time. No more drunken rages. No more black outs. Just numb enough to catch a fleeting memory of weightlessness, forever out of reach.

"'The first spacecraft exceeding the speed of light...' and they give the stick to the first man made from the ground up for space travel." I can't feel the bitterness in my voice anymore. It's just another part of the story. 'The perfect man' they once called me, the future of the human race, but that was a long time ago.

"All lights were green. The Moon was no more than a pebble when the new engine kicked in. Everything went black. Something tore out my soul, then shoved it back in with a sucker punch to the gut. In an eye blink it was over, the stars returned, but something was wrong. My ears were ringing too loud to hear any alarms, but flashes of red were everywhere, blurred and hazy. A little dryness in the throat before the helmet went crack."

A swig to wash down the memory. Even after eight months of retelling, I need to brace myself for what's to come. "I don't remember what I did. Just the burning in my lungs and the rusty taste of blood in my mouth. I gasped my last when white hot knives of pain tore into my eyes. For months later, I awoke with these metal boxes screwed into my sockets. Can barely see and my hearing isn't too good, but I'm still alive I guess."

The grey blob moves away, and I down the contents of my glass, feeling along its imperfections for the last time.

A meal and the memo-machine waited back at my private box. They provided everything, calling occasionally to feign interest in the scattered recordings of my life story that I used to fill my sleepless nights. The past month a fear had crept over me as the words were harder and hard to find. Started babbling about things I'd overheard, stealing scenes from movies and books, because once I was done all I'd have left is drink.

Then word comes. The sort of words you have to straggle your hope of ever hearing just to keep on living, until death becomes something to look forward to.

"We're sending you home."

Whenever asked about returning to Earth, it was always excuses of my condition, the logistics, the expense... delayed and delayed until I convinced myself I was nothing more than a ghost, the final echo of a fallen hero. Now I can only wonder what I had to return to.

Eight months of waking to a bare grey ceiling, only to awake to nothing at all. Just the scent of sharp and unfamiliar, mixed in with the sound of a squawk like a flock of mechanical birds. Bandages are wound tight around my head, where the skin has been rubbed raw. When I reach up to relieve the pressure, a voice calls out in warning.

"Not yet. We replaced your eyes, and they need time to adjust. Soon you should see as you did before the accident."

It isn't what I expected, being kidnapped in the middle of the night and dragged off to the hospital to fix me up while I was still under, but I'm not in a position to complain.

Now that eight months of waiting is over, I'm too restless to just lie in bed. I slip over the side and stagger blindly. Bump my bare foot on something familiar on the floor. Reaching down I could feel its smooth, round surface with no sign of the damning crack. Just the neck seals and raised Space Agency logo.

"When you are ready, you only need to walk out this door."

It's answered by a faint hiss as the portal opened and shut, leaving me alone. I dare to unwrap the bandages, blinking away the harsh white light that leaves everything haloed and angelic. The room is bare but for the stiff bed, and my old flight suit lying on the floor, mended of all harm and rupture with even the bloodstains gone. Nothing left to do but suit up.

The hall beyond is pure white panels, its featureless doors smooth and shut. My eyes are drawn to the sheen of glass and hard metal in the distance; an airlock so similar to the one I had stared at before the start of all this. The door opens at my approach, and I don't have to raise my head to know it was my ship that waits beyond, repaired and ready to fly again.

"We wish you well on your journey."

I instinctively turn at the sound, looking past the glass to the grey blob that floated in the hall, like a weightless, breathless pool of living mercury. I only grin back at my benefactors, not sure if 'they' can understand. There are no words left when the ship waits. Even 'thank you' seems like a feeble form of gratitude.

One year late, I finally arrive on Mars.
 
A

Aaron

Member
With that out of the way, I can read and comment on the stories so far.

nitewulf - Great thriller with vivid descriptions, though I would have liked to know the characters a little more.

Great Rumbler - The opening is generic space opera. You don't need it. Get to the event and use those extra words to flesh out the meat of the story.

RevenantKioku - I have two thoughts: I would not date this woman, and I'm disappointed it doesn't have a real ending, whether she lives or dies.

ronito - Lovely piece and creative use of the theme. Only nitpick is the awkward way you phrase "I don't know the ballerina's name, we've never been introduced so I call her Salome."

VALIS - Cool slice of life, but I thought the explanation paragraph was too heavy handed, and I was honestly hoping for some magical realism at the end. I wanted the story to go somewhere, even if it wasn't very far.

Mike Works - Starts out a little too talky. Thought the first real paragraph was alienating, and you'd be better off without it. For the most part, the story has great flow after that point, and a really great ending.

RumpledForeskin - Nice subtle trickery through the story, but the ending comes off as crass and too direct for me. It feels like she's breaking character.

Crushed - I'm not sure what the whole beginning part has to do with the rest. I think you would have been better off using those words to focus on the tunnel discovery, rather than passing that by quickly in summary. The's also really nothing that sets up the betrayal. Interesting, but leaves me wanting.

Oldschoolgamer - I don't get it, but I have a hard time grasping mostly dialogue stories in general. I like things more grounded and fleshed out. I think even just a little narration would add so much to the initial conversation, instead of floating in space.
 
C

Crushed

Fry Daddy
Aaron said:
Crushed - I'm not sure what the whole beginning part has to do with the rest. I think you would have been better off using those words to focus on the tunnel discovery, rather than passing that by quickly in summary. The's also really nothing that sets up the betrayal. Interesting, but leaves me wanting.
Click to expand...
I know, I know, I just got this idea in my head of a vasovagal janitor being betrayed by a creepy man during some kind of crime, and the whole thing just fell apart.

Chalk it up to not writing anything in ages, and the fact that I tend to write as I go and I'm too proud to delete what doesn't work and start over. :\
 
G

Great Rumbler

Member
Aaron said:
Great Rumbler - The opening is generic space opera. You don't need it. Get to the event and use those extra words to flesh out the meat of the story.
Click to expand...

While I'd certainly like a bit of extra room to expand on the ending, I just can't seeing cutting out much from the opening.

Richard is the story in this case. It's clear from his actions that he's a very independent person and doesn't particularly care for Sal doing everything on the ship. He even goes so far as to calculate the ship's orbital calculations with a piece of paper and a pencil and cuts off communications when he fixes the array. However, when things go bad he realizes that his only potential savior is Sal and so he essentially is forced to beg for help that he hadn't wanted earlier. Unfortunately, his independence is, in part, the cause of his ultimate demise. Having to switch the navigation system back to automatic causes him to lose precious seconds that might have saved him.
 
R

ronito

Member
Read some more.

RumpledForeskin: Dunno about this one. Seemed a bit too obvious with the theme and everything. So much detail about everything but the actual moment. I too think the end doesn't jibe with the beginning. Still good though.

Crushed: I have to agree with Aaron. It's good, but there's so much detail about everything and then the crucial moment just flies by. I was left wanting.

Oldschoolgamer: It left me confused. Also you slipped into a bit of Yoda speak, "Poor we were."

Aaron: Very nice. I actually wanted a lot more detail. But given the constraint I know you couldn't give it.
 
A

Aaron

Member
Great Rumbler said:
While I'd certainly like a bit of extra room to expand on the ending, I just can't seeing cutting out much from the opening.

Richard is the story in this case. It's clear from his actions that he's a very independent person and doesn't particularly care for Sal doing everything on the ship. He even goes so far as to calculate the ship's orbital calculations with a piece of paper and a pencil and cuts off communications when he fixes the array. However, when things go bad he realizes that his only potential savior is Sal and so he essentially is forced to beg for help that he hadn't wanted earlier. Unfortunately, his independence is, in part, the cause of his ultimate demise. Having to switch the navigation system back to automatic causes him to lose precious seconds that might have saved him.
Click to expand...
There are better and quicker ways of showing this, though I did get the point of it I also found him doing the calculations himself a little absurd. They're in motion. By the time he worked it out on paper, the variables would have already changed.
It also doesn't give any real reason for his resentment, so the whole thing comes off as a little forced and artificial for me,.

RumpledForeskin said:
What made you think the character was female btw?
Click to expand...
How I personally interpreted these lines:
"Maybe I’ll be extra lucky and she’ll suggest I hang out with one of her friend’s daughter! For the millionth time. Those girls are more pathetic than me."

Maybe you meant as a sort of date thing, but I read it as trying to get her loner daughter to have more friends.
 
Cauliflower of Love

Cauliflower of Love

Banned
Aaron said:
There are better and quicker ways of showing this, though I did get the point of it I also found him doing the calculations himself a little absurd. They're in motion. By the time he worked it out on paper, the variables would have already changed.
It also doesn't give any real reason for his resentment, so the whole thing comes off as a little forced and artificial for me,.


How I personally interpreted these lines:
"Maybe I’ll be extra lucky and she’ll suggest I hang out with one of her friend’s daughter! For the millionth time. Those girls are more pathetic than me."

Maybe you meant as a sort of date thing, but I read it as trying to get her loner daughter to have more friends.
Click to expand...

Ah, yeah I could see that now, re reading it. Yeah, I meant as setting them up for dating. Maybe the turtleneck thing didn't help either.
 
I

Iceman

Member
RumpledForeskin said:
Ah, yeah I could see that now, re reading it. Yeah, I meant as setting them up for dating. Maybe the turtleneck thing didn't help either.
Click to expand...

It looks like your really concerned about this but I thought of your main character as a male, personally. Not once did I waiver on that.
 
M

Mike Works

Member
i've got to make this brief, since i'm doing a million things at the moment, but i thought i'd offer up reactionary personal comments (not constructive criticism) on the stories so far without tipping my hat to my favorites:

nitewulf: an interesting opening story, reminded me a lot of No Country For Old Men (the movie)

Great Rumbler: interesting that you'd go so far to mimic 2001 that you'd have the robot/AI renamed from HAL to SAL. i'm curious to listen to your reasoning for sticking so close to Clarke's/Kubric's story.

RevenantKioku: interesting perspective and (internal) dialogue

ronito: interesting piece that had some great highs and muddy lows in the writing, with the former overpowering the latter. i actually kind of liked that you had a few poor lines and some great ones mingled into the work, it followed the rhythm of the conductor and the dancer.

VALIS: to paraphrase (steal) Aaron's line, it is a nice slice of life. i'd consider ways to possibly re-structure the piece in order to accentuate the stronger areas.

RumpledForeskin: did you go through the order of space, then water, then noose when it came to fulfilling the topic quota too? for the record, i thought the character was male the entire piece. granted that might be because i've had family try to set me up with some friend's daughter in the past too :lol

Crushed: i'm still not quite sure what happens at the end, which pisses me off since something obviously happens! plus i have yet to look up the term 'vasovagal'. one piece of constructive criticism that i will inject despite saying I wouldn't... this old man, the guy who built the school and then died... how long ago did he build the school? if it was anywhere more than 10 or so years ago, then the harry potter reference doesn't make sense. the plausibility of that line really stuck out for me... i'd suggest referencing the recentness of the school's construction before it, or just axe it all together. despite your own complaints on your piece, i still want to know what exactly happened at the end.

Oldschoolgamer: definitely the most abstract piece. i'm going to let it sit for a few more days and then re-read it when the contest deadline is coming to an end.

Aaron: interestingly solid piece of sci-fi (mike works <3 sci-fi), another piece i'm going to re-read at the end, but for different reasons. i'm undecided on my feelings for the construction and structure of the piece, but it's definitely discernible enough for me to know that i'll come to a decision by week's end.


EVERYTHING IS INTERESTING TO MIKE WORKS

so there are just my basic comments without really letting you guys know what i truly liked or disliked about your pieces. if you guys have any questions or comments that would lead to (constructive) criticism or insight, i'll certainly answer them, but perhaps not until during or after the voting period. i prefer to cover my voting feelings until after i've voted, as i don't like swaying others.
 
G

Great Rumbler

Member
Mike Works said:
Great Rumbler: interesting that you'd go so far to mimic 2001 that you'd have the robot/AI renamed from HAL to SAL. i'm curious to listen to your reasoning for sticking so close to Clarke's/Kubric's story.
Click to expand...

Yeah, I knew leaving it as Sal would make the comparison that much easier, but...I couldn't think of anything that worked better for what I wanted to do. It's short and easy to say, which work well for a nickname that someone might give an advanced AI that wouldn't really have a name, and its androgynous [short for Sally or Salvatore].

And I wanted the final conversation to come off as more depressing than menacing, although apparently I didn't do that part well enough. Sal's final words are more like "I wish I could help you, but I can't" rather than "I don't want to help you".

And I usually write off the cuff, for the most part. I didn't actually set out from the start to make it so much like 2001, that's just how it ended up.

Edit: Well, I've hemmed and hawed about it for long enough. I knew it needed to be fixed up a bit, but I just didn't want to go back in and tinker. Anyway, most of the criticisms were spot on, so I've taken all of them to heart and altered the story accordingly. I didn't add anything mind-blowing, but it should have a better flow to it and the ending should have a much better payoff.
 
N

nitewulf

Member
i am not getting any of oldschoolgamer's pieces...i feel he is trying something, but i am just not getting it. his ones are quite...out there though, i just wish they were a bit more tangible, somehow. this is not a criticism though, just observation. i am glad you're trying something different.

aside from that...ronito

"I finally release my breath and slump a little as I being the next piece."

begin?

i'll reserve farther comments for all pieces till the voting starts.
 
I

Iceman

Member
nitewulf said:
"I finally release my breath and slump a little as I being the next piece."

begin?

i'll reserve farther comments for all pieces till the voting starts.
Click to expand...

further?

edit: sorry, just feel like being an ass right now.
 
R

ronito

Member
nitewulf said:
i am not getting any of oldschoolgamer's pieces...i feel he is trying something, but i am just not getting it. his ones are quite...out there though, i just wish they were a bit more tangible, somehow. this is not a criticism though, just observation. i am glad you're trying something different.

aside from that...ronito

"I finally release my breath and slump a little as I being the next piece."

begin?

i'll reserve farther comments for all pieces till the voting starts.
Click to expand...
Haha. Thanks.

Seriously I've learned my lesson. 1. Don't just write it in one 30 minute sitting. 2. Always have a text to speech read it back to you.

Thanks for putting up with me.
 
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