Alarms blared deafeningly through the station, flashing lights announcing a warning that had come too late. The station jolted frequently, its orbital stability destroyed by the repeated attacks. Hallways were sprinkled with forms that were still; far too still for anybody's liking. Some of them moved, trying to make a last-ditch effort to help, but most collapsed after a few moments. In the midst of these, a few personnel moved to find those who could be helped, treating wounds and shock even as they shook with injuries of their own.
A man walked through them, the lines on his face deepening with each of the fallen he passed. Underneath the burns and smeared blood, his uniform marked him as someone of importance, and he had somewhere important to be.
After a moment, he reached a door and went through it, brushing sparking wires out of his way. "Commander, I have a damage report." No response came. He looked around the control deck, seeing only a few upright officers, wide-eyed at their posts; no sign of his superior. "Commander?"
"He's dead, Riyel," a voice came from the corner, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise. The other stepped out into the decimated room, not daring to get too near to Riyel.
Riyel whirled around just as the alarms stopped; some technician had decided to finally cut them. The stark silence left behind was eery, almost as painful as the blaring alarm had been. Riyel's eyes narrowed dangerously as he glowered down at the man before him. "What are you doing here, Tolan?" He asked, no longer having to shout. "You're supposed to be in a holding cell."
Tolan shrugged, small shoulders rising and falling wearily as the station tilted again. "The third blast cut out the door's power down there."
"Too bad it didn't just blow up," said Riyel darkly, deriving a fleeting, savage pleasure from the hurt that flickered through the scientist's dark eyes. Riyel turned his head toward the main viewscreen.
"Where's the Commander?" He said.
"I told you," Tolan said, a small shake in his voice quickly controlled, "he's dead. He was when I got here."
Riyel gritted his teeth, stepping toward the seat in the middle of the room. The Commander lay silent, fiery eyes closed to the world. For a moment, Riyel closed his eyes with them. "Who would have done this?" He demanded, half to himself.
"Divan would," Tolan said softly. Riyel was in the man's face a heartbeat later, his expression pure anger.
"Never say that again," Riyel said, his words emphasized as he shook Tolan by his uniform.
"Do you understand, scientist?" He spat the word like an expletive, pouring all his rage into the three syllables.
Tolan's expression briefly flashed frustration and hurt, but it was replaced by the same depressed, slightly forced calm that he'd previously worn. "I understand, Sir," he said, the first time he'd referred as such to his friend outside of jokes. Riyel released Tolan's uniform, shoving him roughly away. The smaller man stumbled backward, colliding hard with a shattered panel. Riyel paid no heed, turning to the remaining command crew.
"According to protocol 1.27a, I'm assuming temporary command," he said, projecting confidence and strength. "Officer Yvanta, report," he ordered, grateful that no one contested his leadership.
The young woman jolted out of her shock, quickly tapping in something on her station. "Life support down to... twenty percent, shields at three percent." Riyel cursed mentally. They weren't built for attacks of that magnitude.
"How many dead?"
"Unknown, Sir," said Yvanta. "D-Doctor Polen'll get through soon."
"Good." Crisp, concise words only. "Brink, any idea what attacked us?" The sensor analyst shook his head, frowning.
"Sensor array was the first thing taken out, and it wasn't accidentally. I have zero scan capability." An apologetic shrug was accompanied by a quick wiping away of blood from above his eye.
"Forell?" He turned to the communications officer. "Any chatter from the fleet?"
"None," she said, blue eyes panicky. "But communications are partially down, so that could be why."
A small noise of disbelief came from behind him, and Riyel turned slowly. Tolan stood a few feet away, hand clasped over a new, bleeding gash on his left shoulder. Riyel's eyes swept over him dismissively, inwardly cringing a bit as he saw the injuries that had been inflicted on his supposed friend by crewmates who'd felt the anger and alleged betrayal most strongly. He pushed those feelings away rapidly, focusing on the current problems.
"Yes, crewmember?" Riyel said flatly.
There was a brief raising of one eyebrow at the new direction. Nonetheless, the scientist pressed on. "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Several murderous glances were cast at the man from across the room at his daring to speak with his past record.
Riyel's eyes narrowed warningly. "Granted."
"If-" Tolan hesitated. "If Divan is behind this, then he'd have no trouble getting the fleet to help him."
"But-but the fleet is there to protect us!" Yvanta protested. Riyel dipped his head for a moment, thinking. The idea made sense, much as he was loathe to admit it.
"Try to get sensors and communications back on," he said to Brink and Forell.
"Yes, Sir," said the man with a nod.
There was a moment of silence, then Riyel turned to Tolan. In a deadly soft voice, he gave the man orders. "We can't afford to waste any hands at present," he said. "You're not forgiven, and you're certainly not off the hook, but you can be of use. Go check in with the support deck and medical, then come back with a report. Quickly."
Tolan nodded slightly, shaky hand still over the bleeding shoulder. "Yes, Commander." The brown-haired officer was gone without another word. Riyel sat down in one of the vacated stations and began to assist in diverting power to where it was needed, praying with all the others that the worst of this was behind them.
Unfortunately, this was not to be so. Their brief reprieve lasted for nearly an hour, and then things began to happen very rapidly. Tolan returned to the control deck, carrying grave reports of casualty numbers and damages. Communications were brought back up in a very small capacity, and just as this happened, Forell turned to him.
"We're being contacted, Sir," she said, her gaze a bit confused.
"By?" He asked.
"It looks like the fleet."
"Patch it through," he said.
It took a few moments, then a face came up on screen. Riyel's eyes widened slightly. "Divan?"
The blond man gave a thin, cocky grin. "Riyel. I see you've taken command of your lovely station. How are things down there, anyway?"
Riyel took a step closer to the viewing screen. "Did you do this?" He demanded. Divan didn't respond. "Did you attack an unarmed station?"
"Now, now," said Divan dismissively. "You're not completely unarmed." The grin returned, more dark this time. "Perhaps I did."
Riyel's hands trembled with anger, and he clasped them behind his back to hide it. "Why?" He asked, looking up at the very altered visage of a once-trusted advisor.
He was answered with a question. "Have you ever heard of the T'iari people? Anyone?"
There was a quick, frightened shaking of heads by most on the bridge.
"They're a race of warlike humanoids who spend most of their time exploring and conquering worlds," said Tolan quietly.
Divan raised his eyebrows. "Very good, Tolan," he said demeaningly. "I thought you'd be in a nice little cell somewhere, what with all those nasty rumors you've been spreading about me."
Tolan didn't respond, and Divan rolled his eyes.
"Now you've distracted me." He looked back to Riyel. "Well, Commander," he said mockingly, "your subversive scientist is correct. They're explorers. A few weeks ago, I received a communication from one of them. They were curious about what we were doing so near to their space, and when I told them, they were all too eager to get their hands on your research. You see, they've had trouble getting their ships to hold a steady orbit or sustained life support, so they can't travel as far as they like."
"So?" Riyel ground out.
"So, I sent a message back, asking what was in it for me if I got it for them." Divan's grin widened. "It was quite a lot, in fact. Your little pet there overheard one of my communications with the T'iari people, so I had to act faster while you took care of locking him away for his accusations. It was really very easy to convince the fleet to assist. Most of them, anyway. The rest had to be... taken care of."
"You're a traitor," Riyel accused, glaring.
"Labels," said the man dismissively. "But I've accomplished my goal, and now you have a choice."
There was a pause as Divan let his words sink in.
"You can either surrender to me, or I will kill every last person on that station. You have twenty-five minutes to decide."
The screen cut out, and Riyel turned away. "What will the repercussions be if those T-people get ahold of our technology?" He asked Tolan.
The man shifted his weight to one side, then winced and shifted it back. "They will move farther from their homeworld and begin to take over more planets," he said, eyes flicking to the viewing screen and back. "They destroy about fifty percent of the population on any world they land on. Eventually, they'd probably venture as far as Earth."
"Understood," he said, feeling a very heavy weight descend on his shoulders. He stepped closer to the scientist. "Tolan, I'm s-"
"It doesn't matter," Tolan interrupted softly, a sad smile flitting across his split lips.
Riyel nodded slowly and stepped over to Yvanta. "Do we have control over the self-destruct system?" He asked.
"Affirmative, Sir," she said.
"Bring it up," he ordered. "Forell, begin a station-wide broadcast." He paused before beginning. "Attention all crewmembers. This is your acting Commander speaking. The fleet has turned against us and an alien planet wants our station. We can't let them have it. I'm ordering an evacuation to the escape pods, effective immediately. You have less than twenty minutes to get there. Please do so in a calm and orderly fashion." He nodded and Yvanta cut the transmission.
Riyel turned to the rest of the command crew. "I want all of you to get down there, too. Quickly."
Frightened glances were exchanged as personal belongings were snatched up and well-wishes were murmured by the departing crew. Riyel stood in the center of the room, letting out a breath as he stared out at space. He heard a noise and turned. Standing a few meters behind him, looking small and beaten down but determined, was Tolan.
"Go with the others," Riyel said stiffly.
"C'mon, Riyel," said Tolan with a wry twinkle in his eye. "We graduated together, and you think I'm going to let you have all the fun alone?"
Riyel looked away, his skin hot with the forgiveness he didn't deserve. He stepped forward and raised his hand, his heart twinging when Tolan cringed away. Riyel laid it gently on Tolan's shoulder.
"Thank you," said Riyel, voice unusually quiet and sincere.
Tolan nodded. "What do you need me to do?"
"Sit over there at the lifesigns monitor, make sure everybody gets into the pods," Riyel said gratefully. Tolan nodded again, seating himself gingerly.
"Alright. Everyone's moving in the right direction."
"Good." Riyel accepted the information and brusquely began to bring up the self-destruct protocol. A red light flashed and Riyel cursed.
"What?" Tolan asked warily.
"I hoped this wouldn't happen," Riyel ground out. "The timed feature's been destroyed. It'll go off immediately when we set it."
"I figured it would be that way," Tolan said with a small shrug. "Any way to fix it?"
"You can try," Riyel said, the tone not showing much hope. "Keep an eye on the crew, though."
"Will do," Tolan said, already turning away as his fingers skimmed across the keys.
There were a few moments of tense quiet, and Tolan let out a breath. "I can't be sure, but I think that sort of fixed it," he said.
"How long?"
"Three minutes," murmured Tolan. "We'll have to run."
"Can you run?" Riyel asked, brow creasing.
"I'm not sure," Tolan said simply. "But you can."
"I won't leave you," Riyel said adamantly.
Tolan didn't respond, bringing up a display. "That's the last of them. We have two minutes before Divan's time expires."
"Alright," Riyel grunted. He began to input his code, quickly setting the timer for three minutes. "Ready?" He asked, looking over to Tolan.
"Ready. The pods are taking off." The scientist stood painfully.
Riyel nodded. "Go." He pressed the final key and they began their race to the last remaining pod. Tolan's breath was ragged as he fought to keep up. Riyel pulled the less injured arm over his shoulder, helping the man to run with him.
The two, panicked minutes passed quickly. They took off in the pod, the broadcast from the ship being wired to them.
"Time's up, Riyel," said Divan in a sing-song voice. "What did you choose?"
The ship exploded, cutting the transmission. Through the rear window, they saw the station and entire fleet go up in an orange blaze.
Riyel let out a breath of relief as he switched off the transmission and sent a message to the others, hanging his head. He looked to Tolan. "Just like old times, huh?"
Tolan laughed breathlessly, mopping up the some of the blood pooling beneath him. "Yeah. Just like old times."
25 October 2010
18 October 2010
If Willie Garson wrote poetry...
Do what you love.
Live what you believe.
Laugh at funny things,
even through challenges.
Spend time wisely
with loved ones.
You never know
what's coming next.
Live what you believe.
Laugh at funny things,
even through challenges.
Spend time wisely
with loved ones.
You never know
what's coming next.
Leaves
People don't generally react well to... unique ideas.
Apparently, leaves being precious possessions is not a normal belief.
I found three leaves on the way home, they were pretty and green, red, and yellow. I brought them to my house and showed them to my mother.
"Look, Mom!" I cried, holding them out. "I found these leaves, and I didn't even have to look for them! They were just out for anyone to pick up!"
"That's... great, dear," she said, sounding less than impressed, and maybe a little bit concerned for my mental state. "Please go put them back outside."
"But... they're precious!" I insisted, holding them closer to me.
"They're leaves," she said dryly.
"And I love them," I said stubbornly.
"Fine," she said, "take them downstairs."
"Alright," I said brightly, smiling as I walked to my room and laying them gently on a shelf.
Similar experiences were repeated as my family members wandered through during the day.
And don't even get me started on the tomato.
Apparently, leaves being precious possessions is not a normal belief.
I found three leaves on the way home, they were pretty and green, red, and yellow. I brought them to my house and showed them to my mother.
"Look, Mom!" I cried, holding them out. "I found these leaves, and I didn't even have to look for them! They were just out for anyone to pick up!"
"That's... great, dear," she said, sounding less than impressed, and maybe a little bit concerned for my mental state. "Please go put them back outside."
"But... they're precious!" I insisted, holding them closer to me.
"They're leaves," she said dryly.
"And I love them," I said stubbornly.
"Fine," she said, "take them downstairs."
"Alright," I said brightly, smiling as I walked to my room and laying them gently on a shelf.
Similar experiences were repeated as my family members wandered through during the day.
And don't even get me started on the tomato.
17 October 2010
If Spock wrote Poetry...
Two pi times the radius squared.
Simple; always absolute.
A formula for truth, never lying.
Consistency at its finest.
Space and time remain
Constant and fluid.
Observations yield results.
Changing perspectives.
Logic brings peace.
Emotion diffused.
Opinion moderated.
Affection contained.
Simple; always absolute.
A formula for truth, never lying.
Consistency at its finest.
Space and time remain
Constant and fluid.
Observations yield results.
Changing perspectives.
Logic brings peace.
Emotion diffused.
Opinion moderated.
Affection contained.
Flash 10/10
Lights
Every room is circular in the quiet house; the walls curve back to meet each other, interrupted only by circular doorways. Chairs stand in smooth lines, every piece of furniture sleek and modern. In the center of one of these rooms sits a small white form. He is immobile, nothing moving but the small row of dark blue lights dancing slowly across his chest in a strange glow. A mewling sound penetrates the silence, and the robot sits up. The blue lights stop moving and settle in one small circle over where a heart would lie. With a bored slowness, he lopes gracefully through the rooms and opens a door. A kitten tumbles in from the contained simu-yard, splaying across the floor. It is still a new addition in the household routine. A tiny pink tongue hangs out of the mouth and it emits another mew. The robot turns and walks back toward his original position, ignoring the animal’s communication. It tags after him, slim sides shining in the light. Its head nearly reaches his upper abdomen, and its high-pitched communications irritate his sensors. He returns to standing in the middle of the room; his job has been fulfilled. The kitten does not desist in its pleas for attention, becoming more vocal as the robot continues to ignore it. It jumps onto his shoulder, balancing
on the too-small surface. He tilts slightly to one side and it slides off, leaving scratch marks as it goes. Quickly, he examines the shoulder and the light on his chest flashes red before going back to blue. With a slightly hastened pace, he moves toward another room and picks up a tool in his smoothly-jointed fingers. Applying it to the shoulder, he lets out a sigh before stopping himself. It is not like him to go against protocol, and he quickly regrets it, wondering if he requires maintenance. The shoulder is repaired quickly, but his light flashes red again as a flash of a little collar flashes through his vision. The kitten meows apologetically and leans its paws against his shoulder, licking him before dropping back to the ground. Its earth-brown eyes blink appealingly at him and he nods. It appears satisfied, and purrs for him to follow it as it scampers toward another room.
As he should, he glances at everything in the rooms as they go through, checking to see if his immaculate cleaning has been disturbed. It would be against protocol for the house to be unclean when the humans returned. As he expects, nothing has been moved out of place. The purple and gray striped kitten continues until they reach the food preparation area, and seats itself in front of an empty silver dish. Its mew contains inflection that indicates hunger, so the robot climbs the fluid step stool to reach a small food container. It rattles as he moves back down and pours the designated amount into its dish. The kitten purrs with a pleased flick of its tail and bends down. The robot’s blue light becomes a shade paler as he replaces the nutrients and starts back to his area in the main habitation room. He goes into hibernation mode for a few minutes, pale blue lights flashing across his chest, until he registers a small head touching him. Another meow pierces the silence as he instantly reaches operational mode and it touches him again. He takes a step to the side. It is unaware that it is breaking protocol, but he knows. The fibers of its fur feel strange against his smooth leg. It refuses to be avoided, and nudges a shimmering ball of simu-wool toward him. Analyzing the kitten for a moment, he concludes that it wants him to toss it. Desiring silence, he does so. It quickly retrieves the sphere and brings it back with a devious glint in its eyes. The process continues for several minutes, until finally the kitten’s mouth opens in a yawn, pink tongue curling in an expression of fatigue. It curls up beside him, tail lying across his leg. After a moment of silent contemplation, he brushes his hand along its spine and his light turns a soft shade of yellow as the kitten purrs.
Every room is circular in the quiet house; the walls curve back to meet each other, interrupted only by circular doorways. Chairs stand in smooth lines, every piece of furniture sleek and modern. In the center of one of these rooms sits a small white form. He is immobile, nothing moving but the small row of dark blue lights dancing slowly across his chest in a strange glow. A mewling sound penetrates the silence, and the robot sits up. The blue lights stop moving and settle in one small circle over where a heart would lie. With a bored slowness, he lopes gracefully through the rooms and opens a door. A kitten tumbles in from the contained simu-yard, splaying across the floor. It is still a new addition in the household routine. A tiny pink tongue hangs out of the mouth and it emits another mew. The robot turns and walks back toward his original position, ignoring the animal’s communication. It tags after him, slim sides shining in the light. Its head nearly reaches his upper abdomen, and its high-pitched communications irritate his sensors. He returns to standing in the middle of the room; his job has been fulfilled. The kitten does not desist in its pleas for attention, becoming more vocal as the robot continues to ignore it. It jumps onto his shoulder, balancing
on the too-small surface. He tilts slightly to one side and it slides off, leaving scratch marks as it goes. Quickly, he examines the shoulder and the light on his chest flashes red before going back to blue. With a slightly hastened pace, he moves toward another room and picks up a tool in his smoothly-jointed fingers. Applying it to the shoulder, he lets out a sigh before stopping himself. It is not like him to go against protocol, and he quickly regrets it, wondering if he requires maintenance. The shoulder is repaired quickly, but his light flashes red again as a flash of a little collar flashes through his vision. The kitten meows apologetically and leans its paws against his shoulder, licking him before dropping back to the ground. Its earth-brown eyes blink appealingly at him and he nods. It appears satisfied, and purrs for him to follow it as it scampers toward another room.
As he should, he glances at everything in the rooms as they go through, checking to see if his immaculate cleaning has been disturbed. It would be against protocol for the house to be unclean when the humans returned. As he expects, nothing has been moved out of place. The purple and gray striped kitten continues until they reach the food preparation area, and seats itself in front of an empty silver dish. Its mew contains inflection that indicates hunger, so the robot climbs the fluid step stool to reach a small food container. It rattles as he moves back down and pours the designated amount into its dish. The kitten purrs with a pleased flick of its tail and bends down. The robot’s blue light becomes a shade paler as he replaces the nutrients and starts back to his area in the main habitation room. He goes into hibernation mode for a few minutes, pale blue lights flashing across his chest, until he registers a small head touching him. Another meow pierces the silence as he instantly reaches operational mode and it touches him again. He takes a step to the side. It is unaware that it is breaking protocol, but he knows. The fibers of its fur feel strange against his smooth leg. It refuses to be avoided, and nudges a shimmering ball of simu-wool toward him. Analyzing the kitten for a moment, he concludes that it wants him to toss it. Desiring silence, he does so. It quickly retrieves the sphere and brings it back with a devious glint in its eyes. The process continues for several minutes, until finally the kitten’s mouth opens in a yawn, pink tongue curling in an expression of fatigue. It curls up beside him, tail lying across his leg. After a moment of silent contemplation, he brushes his hand along its spine and his light turns a soft shade of yellow as the kitten purrs.
Flash 9/10
Life in General
The warm summer air hung over the driveway as Charlie hosed off his beat-up truck. He was just finishing up when he heard the sounds of sniffling from down the sidewalk. Leaning around the truck, he saw his youngest brother, Dennis, trudging toward the house, tears shining on his cheeks.
Charlie dropped the hose and ran over. “Hey, kid, what’s up?” He asked.
“Nothing.” Dennis shook his head miserably.
“Nothing?” Charlie asked doubtfully. He sat down on the sidewalk next to Dennis. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
“Why are you so happy?” Dennis asked; the world, bleak as it was to him, didn’t seem to offer much joy for anyone anymore.
“Life in general,” Charlie said with a slight smile. He pulled the boy onto his lap. “Now, what’s bugging you?”
“No one in my whole entire class likes me,” Dennis said, sniffling.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Charlie protested. “You’re a great kid. They like you.”
“Nuh-uh,” Dennis insisted. “They hate me. And now I’ll have no friends this year.” He wiped at his eyes again. Charlie frowned, standing up.
“Well, you know what I think we should do instead of thinking about it?” Charlie asked, gently taking Dennis’s backpack off.
“What?” Dennis asked, sounding dull rather than curious.
“I think we should take a ride in my truck to go get ice cream.”
“Really?” Dennis’s face lost some of its sadness.
“Really,” Charlie confirmed. He tossed the boy over his shoulder as he walked over to turn the hose off and quickly wrapped it up.
“Can I sit in the front seat?” Dennis asked hopefully.
“‘fraid not, bud,” Charlie said regretfully. “Mom’d kill me.”
“Oh, alright,” Dennis said, sitting in the back. It was a testament to his deep despair that he didn’t bounce on the seat as he normally did.
“It won’t be too much longer ‘till you can,” Charlie assured him with a grin. He started the truck and they began the drive to the ice cream store.
Dennis cited all the examples of his class’s dislike for him, sinking back into upset. Charlie listened sympathetically, remembering the years when that had been the most important thing in his life, too.
“Time for ice cream,” he told the boy as they parked.
“Okay.”
They trekked into the shop and Charlie got a waffle cone with a scoop of strawberry.
“I’ll have the same thing,” Dennis said, eyeing the pink confection eagerly.
They sat out in the bed of Charlie’s truck, watching the cars on the busier road go by.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” Dennis said, licking a sticky finger.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie said. Dennis giggled. “Now, what’s got you so happy?” Charlie asked teasingly.
Dennis gave a bright, pink-smeared grin. “Like you said earlier,” he said, leaning back. “Life in general.”
Charlie laughed, ruffling his brother’s hair. “That’s good, kid. I’m glad.”
The warm summer air hung over the driveway as Charlie hosed off his beat-up truck. He was just finishing up when he heard the sounds of sniffling from down the sidewalk. Leaning around the truck, he saw his youngest brother, Dennis, trudging toward the house, tears shining on his cheeks.
Charlie dropped the hose and ran over. “Hey, kid, what’s up?” He asked.
“Nothing.” Dennis shook his head miserably.
“Nothing?” Charlie asked doubtfully. He sat down on the sidewalk next to Dennis. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
“Why are you so happy?” Dennis asked; the world, bleak as it was to him, didn’t seem to offer much joy for anyone anymore.
“Life in general,” Charlie said with a slight smile. He pulled the boy onto his lap. “Now, what’s bugging you?”
“No one in my whole entire class likes me,” Dennis said, sniffling.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Charlie protested. “You’re a great kid. They like you.”
“Nuh-uh,” Dennis insisted. “They hate me. And now I’ll have no friends this year.” He wiped at his eyes again. Charlie frowned, standing up.
“Well, you know what I think we should do instead of thinking about it?” Charlie asked, gently taking Dennis’s backpack off.
“What?” Dennis asked, sounding dull rather than curious.
“I think we should take a ride in my truck to go get ice cream.”
“Really?” Dennis’s face lost some of its sadness.
“Really,” Charlie confirmed. He tossed the boy over his shoulder as he walked over to turn the hose off and quickly wrapped it up.
“Can I sit in the front seat?” Dennis asked hopefully.
“‘fraid not, bud,” Charlie said regretfully. “Mom’d kill me.”
“Oh, alright,” Dennis said, sitting in the back. It was a testament to his deep despair that he didn’t bounce on the seat as he normally did.
“It won’t be too much longer ‘till you can,” Charlie assured him with a grin. He started the truck and they began the drive to the ice cream store.
Dennis cited all the examples of his class’s dislike for him, sinking back into upset. Charlie listened sympathetically, remembering the years when that had been the most important thing in his life, too.
“Time for ice cream,” he told the boy as they parked.
“Okay.”
They trekked into the shop and Charlie got a waffle cone with a scoop of strawberry.
“I’ll have the same thing,” Dennis said, eyeing the pink confection eagerly.
They sat out in the bed of Charlie’s truck, watching the cars on the busier road go by.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” Dennis said, licking a sticky finger.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie said. Dennis giggled. “Now, what’s got you so happy?” Charlie asked teasingly.
Dennis gave a bright, pink-smeared grin. “Like you said earlier,” he said, leaning back. “Life in general.”
Charlie laughed, ruffling his brother’s hair. “That’s good, kid. I’m glad.”
Flash 8/10
Arrival
A small girl perched on top of a rock, her brown braids swinging as she watched the road. Nothing diverted her gaze from its post, and the long stretch of time did nothing to dull the enthusiasm in her eyes.
Suddenly, her body stiffened with excitement as she saw a figure come over the hill. She slid off the rock and darted to the house, skirts flying.
“Papa’s coming, Papa’s coming!” She declared to all who could hear. There was a flurry of printed skirts and muddy shoes as all raced out to meet the traveler.
“Papa!” The children cried in a chorus. The girl who had been watching was the first to clamp him in a hug.
“Did you have a good journey?” The girl’s mother asked, smiling.
“Aye,” he said, nodding as he took off his hat and placed it on one of the young boys with a grin. “‘twas far too long to be away, but productive.”
“We missed you!” The girl cried.
“I missed you, too,” he assured her with a chuckle. Slowly, each child had received their share of hugs and they made their way down the dirt road, returning to their house with quiet contentment, knowing their family was whole once more.
A small girl perched on top of a rock, her brown braids swinging as she watched the road. Nothing diverted her gaze from its post, and the long stretch of time did nothing to dull the enthusiasm in her eyes.
Suddenly, her body stiffened with excitement as she saw a figure come over the hill. She slid off the rock and darted to the house, skirts flying.
“Papa’s coming, Papa’s coming!” She declared to all who could hear. There was a flurry of printed skirts and muddy shoes as all raced out to meet the traveler.
“Papa!” The children cried in a chorus. The girl who had been watching was the first to clamp him in a hug.
“Did you have a good journey?” The girl’s mother asked, smiling.
“Aye,” he said, nodding as he took off his hat and placed it on one of the young boys with a grin. “‘twas far too long to be away, but productive.”
“We missed you!” The girl cried.
“I missed you, too,” he assured her with a chuckle. Slowly, each child had received their share of hugs and they made their way down the dirt road, returning to their house with quiet contentment, knowing their family was whole once more.
Flash 7/10
Graveyard
It’s midnight, and the crescent moon shines down on a graveyard. Tombstones stand in dotted rows, some crumbling with age. Everything is still until a group of daring teenagers comes to run around for a while, scaring each other with tales of hauntings. They hope to somehow prove their character by being the last to break down in fright. Eventually they decide to go, casting everything back into silence again.
A little while later, it’s dawn, and the beginnings of a sunrise peek over the nearby mountains. The hum of a weed-whacker echoes off stone as the maintenance man dully cleans everything up. With a yawn, he finishes and puts some food out for the chirping birds.
Then, it’s noon, and a solemn procession of family members files in. They lay flowers on a recent grave, joined by many others around them who take this day to mourn their lost. A few children scamper through the grass, their laughter evidence of their innocence.
After that, it’s evening, and a man in a suit stands at an intricate headstone. He remains quietly for a while, but his stoic expression breaks as he wipes his eyes and quickly leaves.
Then it’s midnight again, and everything is silent once more.
It’s midnight, and the crescent moon shines down on a graveyard. Tombstones stand in dotted rows, some crumbling with age. Everything is still until a group of daring teenagers comes to run around for a while, scaring each other with tales of hauntings. They hope to somehow prove their character by being the last to break down in fright. Eventually they decide to go, casting everything back into silence again.
A little while later, it’s dawn, and the beginnings of a sunrise peek over the nearby mountains. The hum of a weed-whacker echoes off stone as the maintenance man dully cleans everything up. With a yawn, he finishes and puts some food out for the chirping birds.
Then, it’s noon, and a solemn procession of family members files in. They lay flowers on a recent grave, joined by many others around them who take this day to mourn their lost. A few children scamper through the grass, their laughter evidence of their innocence.
After that, it’s evening, and a man in a suit stands at an intricate headstone. He remains quietly for a while, but his stoic expression breaks as he wipes his eyes and quickly leaves.
Then it’s midnight again, and everything is silent once more.
Flash 6/10
Lakeside
Afternoon was just ending, pale shadows being cast along the sides of the clear blue lake. David allowed his eyes to trail along the flowers and trees, but they always went back to the beautiful girl who outshined all of it. She sat peacefully with her canvas in front of her, her view of the world spreading itself in paint.
“Are you sure you aren’t bored?” She asked anxiously, glancing back as one hand dipped the brush in paint. “We can go to dinner now if you want.”
He smiled at her. “No,” he said truthfully. “I’m not bored, you just keep doing your thing.”
“Thanks,” she said gratefully. “The shade of the water is perfect right now.”
He continued to quietly observe her, humming quietly under his breath from time to time. She finished quickly, signing Liz Morton at the bottom with a little laugh. “Thank you for waiting,” she said as he helped her pack up her things.
“My pleasure,” he said. He took her hand and they sat back down for a moment, leaning against each other. Slowly, the sun began to slip down, painting the sky around it a thousand shades of purple and orange.
Afternoon was just ending, pale shadows being cast along the sides of the clear blue lake. David allowed his eyes to trail along the flowers and trees, but they always went back to the beautiful girl who outshined all of it. She sat peacefully with her canvas in front of her, her view of the world spreading itself in paint.
“Are you sure you aren’t bored?” She asked anxiously, glancing back as one hand dipped the brush in paint. “We can go to dinner now if you want.”
He smiled at her. “No,” he said truthfully. “I’m not bored, you just keep doing your thing.”
“Thanks,” she said gratefully. “The shade of the water is perfect right now.”
He continued to quietly observe her, humming quietly under his breath from time to time. She finished quickly, signing Liz Morton at the bottom with a little laugh. “Thank you for waiting,” she said as he helped her pack up her things.
“My pleasure,” he said. He took her hand and they sat back down for a moment, leaning against each other. Slowly, the sun began to slip down, painting the sky around it a thousand shades of purple and orange.
Flash 5/10
Impossible
Her heart was racing as she ran across the pavement. Feet pounding on the flat surface, she rounded a corner and found herself facing yet another dead end. Stupid school hallways. Why she’d ever agreed to sneak in here after hours, she couldn’t begin to guess. Worry seized her as footsteps echoed behind her.
Turning away, she tried another hall and darted into a classroom that she remembered having two exits.
Unfortunately it turned out to be a very small closet.
She rushed back into the hallway and was suddenly in front of her pursuer. A devious smile crossed his face as he backed her into a wall, the plastic weapon she’d been clutching falling to the ground uselessly.
“Looks like you couldn’t run after all,” he said. She gave her best glare, but squeezed her eyes shut as he took another step closer. Her back pressed against the wall and she clenched her fists at her sides. There was the click of a gun being cocked and her shoulders tensed.
A foam bullet bounced of her forehead as he laughed triumphantly.
“Aaand, I believe that makes me the winner again,” he said. “Let’s go tell everyone you were wrong.” She grinned even as she punched him in the shoulder.
“You’re impossible.”
Her heart was racing as she ran across the pavement. Feet pounding on the flat surface, she rounded a corner and found herself facing yet another dead end. Stupid school hallways. Why she’d ever agreed to sneak in here after hours, she couldn’t begin to guess. Worry seized her as footsteps echoed behind her.
Turning away, she tried another hall and darted into a classroom that she remembered having two exits.
Unfortunately it turned out to be a very small closet.
She rushed back into the hallway and was suddenly in front of her pursuer. A devious smile crossed his face as he backed her into a wall, the plastic weapon she’d been clutching falling to the ground uselessly.
“Looks like you couldn’t run after all,” he said. She gave her best glare, but squeezed her eyes shut as he took another step closer. Her back pressed against the wall and she clenched her fists at her sides. There was the click of a gun being cocked and her shoulders tensed.
A foam bullet bounced of her forehead as he laughed triumphantly.
“Aaand, I believe that makes me the winner again,” he said. “Let’s go tell everyone you were wrong.” She grinned even as she punched him in the shoulder.
“You’re impossible.”
Flash 4/10
Rain
A lone figure sits, hunched over on a park bench, her shoulders shaking with sobs. No one is there to see her, to acknowledge her pain or comfort her. Her long braid is messy, her clothing is rumpled, and all in all she feels ready to fall apart.
She feels a drop on her hand that is colder than the rest, then another. In the distance, a deep rumbling sounds, seeming to make the very ground hum.
With a puzzled look, she sits up as the raindrops begin to fall in earnest. The air begins to fill with the smells of damp earth and wet pavement.
The girl swallows and tilts her head towards the gray sky. Cool raindrops trickle down her young, pale face, washing away the lines of tears down her cheeks. The girl's slender hands close around the moist wood of the park bench as she releases a deep breath, looking around her. Another clap of thunder sounds in the distance.
A rainy fog has descended down on the park, softening the harsh edges of the world and dropping a curtain between her and the rest. The girl stands up slowly, slowly feeling the burdens on her shoulders lighten.
As she kicks off her sandals and steps into the clean, wet grass, she breathes a sigh of relief. For the moment, at least, she is free, and the rain has washed away all the problems of the day.
A lone figure sits, hunched over on a park bench, her shoulders shaking with sobs. No one is there to see her, to acknowledge her pain or comfort her. Her long braid is messy, her clothing is rumpled, and all in all she feels ready to fall apart.
She feels a drop on her hand that is colder than the rest, then another. In the distance, a deep rumbling sounds, seeming to make the very ground hum.
With a puzzled look, she sits up as the raindrops begin to fall in earnest. The air begins to fill with the smells of damp earth and wet pavement.
The girl swallows and tilts her head towards the gray sky. Cool raindrops trickle down her young, pale face, washing away the lines of tears down her cheeks. The girl's slender hands close around the moist wood of the park bench as she releases a deep breath, looking around her. Another clap of thunder sounds in the distance.
A rainy fog has descended down on the park, softening the harsh edges of the world and dropping a curtain between her and the rest. The girl stands up slowly, slowly feeling the burdens on her shoulders lighten.
As she kicks off her sandals and steps into the clean, wet grass, she breathes a sigh of relief. For the moment, at least, she is free, and the rain has washed away all the problems of the day.
Flash 3/10
Daycare
Sunlight shines through on toys that wait along the walls, lined up in temporarily neat rows. As a cheery clock strikes six, a tired-looking man walks in. Within ten minutes, the first child arrives. The five-year-old girl quickly flies to the dress-up clothes, having decided recently that fashion is her calling in life. “Good morning, Mr. Lund!”
This begins the pattern of children running in, hurried parents running out. The day progresses well with minimal damage for all involved. When they begin their coloring time, however, things go badly. Blue crayons suddenly become a hot commodity, and blows are exchanged over the limited number.
Rational sharing fails, and he decides that the only way to solve the problem is to take all the blue crayons away.
There is much sorrow over this unfortunate decision, and many of the children continue to fight afterward. He slowly develops a headache. Exhausted, he cleans up the disaster zone as the last little boy is picked up. Before he leaves, he darts over and gives a quick hug to the director.
“Bye-bye, Mis-ter Wund,” the toddler says as he’s herded out. The director smiles as he closes up for the day. Really and truly, he decides, at the end of the day, every bit of trouble is small compared to the rewards.
Sunlight shines through on toys that wait along the walls, lined up in temporarily neat rows. As a cheery clock strikes six, a tired-looking man walks in. Within ten minutes, the first child arrives. The five-year-old girl quickly flies to the dress-up clothes, having decided recently that fashion is her calling in life. “Good morning, Mr. Lund!”
This begins the pattern of children running in, hurried parents running out. The day progresses well with minimal damage for all involved. When they begin their coloring time, however, things go badly. Blue crayons suddenly become a hot commodity, and blows are exchanged over the limited number.
Rational sharing fails, and he decides that the only way to solve the problem is to take all the blue crayons away.
There is much sorrow over this unfortunate decision, and many of the children continue to fight afterward. He slowly develops a headache. Exhausted, he cleans up the disaster zone as the last little boy is picked up. Before he leaves, he darts over and gives a quick hug to the director.
“Bye-bye, Mis-ter Wund,” the toddler says as he’s herded out. The director smiles as he closes up for the day. Really and truly, he decides, at the end of the day, every bit of trouble is small compared to the rewards.
Flash 2/10
Nostalgia
A flurry of snowflakes blew through the door as the elderly couple returned to their home.
“Well, Carl,” said the wife with a smile, “I think that was a nice wedding.”
“It was,” the husband agreed, gently taking off his wife’s coat and putting it into the closet. “I think we’re gainin’ a fine nephew-in-law.” He removed his own coat and turned back to face his wife, grinning. “Why, Sarah, you’re red as a tomato in July.”
“It’s cold out,” Sarah explained with a teasing smile. “If you didn’t already notice.”
“I noticed,” Carl said with an appreciative shiver. “I think this calls for some hot cocoa.”
A few moments later, they had water heating up in an old fashioned kettle and soft holiday music playing in the background. “Every time we see one of these kids married off, it reminds me of our special day,” murmured Sarah with a reminiscent sigh.
Carl chuckled softly and caught her hands, spinning her in a gentle waltz across the kitchen floor. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” he said. She leaned her head against his shoulder as the music continued quietly humming on.
A flurry of snowflakes blew through the door as the elderly couple returned to their home.
“Well, Carl,” said the wife with a smile, “I think that was a nice wedding.”
“It was,” the husband agreed, gently taking off his wife’s coat and putting it into the closet. “I think we’re gainin’ a fine nephew-in-law.” He removed his own coat and turned back to face his wife, grinning. “Why, Sarah, you’re red as a tomato in July.”
“It’s cold out,” Sarah explained with a teasing smile. “If you didn’t already notice.”
“I noticed,” Carl said with an appreciative shiver. “I think this calls for some hot cocoa.”
A few moments later, they had water heating up in an old fashioned kettle and soft holiday music playing in the background. “Every time we see one of these kids married off, it reminds me of our special day,” murmured Sarah with a reminiscent sigh.
Carl chuckled softly and caught her hands, spinning her in a gentle waltz across the kitchen floor. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” he said. She leaned her head against his shoulder as the music continued quietly humming on.
06 October 2010
Flash 1/10
Prompt: The child with the ball.
I open my door as I do every morning, letting my small dog into the even smaller yard, pick up my bowl of cereal, and sit down in my customary chair. At first I watch my dog, but inevitably, as it always is, my gaze is dragged to the small girl playing in the yard next to mine. She’s about three, I guess, with pale blonde curls and a vivacious grin. She tosses her red rubber ball against the pavement and catches it, laughter echoing through the air. Over and over she repeats this action, content to play the simple game. Eventually a voice summons her from inside, and the ball drops as she runs in. I rise as I always do to go rinse the bowl, taking one last look at the red sphere, still rolling across the concrete. It stops against the house and I close the door behind me, releasing a short sigh as I wonder how it would be to return to simply being a child with a ball.
I open my door as I do every morning, letting my small dog into the even smaller yard, pick up my bowl of cereal, and sit down in my customary chair. At first I watch my dog, but inevitably, as it always is, my gaze is dragged to the small girl playing in the yard next to mine. She’s about three, I guess, with pale blonde curls and a vivacious grin. She tosses her red rubber ball against the pavement and catches it, laughter echoing through the air. Over and over she repeats this action, content to play the simple game. Eventually a voice summons her from inside, and the ball drops as she runs in. I rise as I always do to go rinse the bowl, taking one last look at the red sphere, still rolling across the concrete. It stops against the house and I close the door behind me, releasing a short sigh as I wonder how it would be to return to simply being a child with a ball.
27 September 2010
9/9/10 Response
We were read a short story and then told to write whatever came into our heads.
All is dark.
Not a whisper,
Not a movement,
Not a sound.
The thick gray blanket covers all.
Choking.
Smothering.
Destroying.
From far away, something stirs.
A soft white wing bursts through.
Doleful tweeting breaks the darkness.
Shivering.
Struggling.
Fighting.
The small bird rises from the ash,
Gray flecks cling to its head.
A single cry fills the air.
Only silence greets it.
The bird takes flight.
A flurry of feathers.
A string of song.
Moonlight glints of the white wing,
And the bird is gone.
Gray clouds cover the moon.
And all is dark.
All is dark.
Not a whisper,
Not a movement,
Not a sound.
The thick gray blanket covers all.
Choking.
Smothering.
Destroying.
From far away, something stirs.
A soft white wing bursts through.
Doleful tweeting breaks the darkness.
Shivering.
Struggling.
Fighting.
The small bird rises from the ash,
Gray flecks cling to its head.
A single cry fills the air.
Only silence greets it.
The bird takes flight.
A flurry of feathers.
A string of song.
Moonlight glints of the white wing,
And the bird is gone.
Gray clouds cover the moon.
And all is dark.
9/7/10 Poem
Ms Sides read us two poems and then had us write one of our own.
The world offers itself to you.
It is wide and wonderful.
It presents challenges.
Challenges bring pain,
But after the pain comes joy,
And with the show comes sunshine.
The sunshine gives way to clouds,
The clouds bring rain.
The rain foretells challenges,
And the cycle begins again.
Round and round the world goes.
Every day,
Something new,
The good and the bad.
Without one we would not know the other.
Dark and light,
Pain and relief,
Sorrow and joy,
All working together in harmony.
The world offers itself to you.
It is wide and wonderful.
It presents challenges.
Challenges bring pain,
But after the pain comes joy,
And with the show comes sunshine.
The sunshine gives way to clouds,
The clouds bring rain.
The rain foretells challenges,
And the cycle begins again.
Round and round the world goes.
Every day,
Something new,
The good and the bad.
Without one we would not know the other.
Dark and light,
Pain and relief,
Sorrow and joy,
All working together in harmony.
25 September 2010
Erasure Poem
On Tuesday we made these "erasure" poems. We took this article and had to use only those words in that order to create a poem, blacking out anything we didn't use. This is what I ended up having left.
There is power in words.
A brilliant example begins "I can"
Another is trapped in haunting fragments.
The shifting fields of our loss and balance change
Heavy black lines remain.
New words float down in clouds
At the time of the uncertainties of this world.
More emerges.
A fledgling is developing.
Anyone can.
There is hope in all.
There is power in words.
A brilliant example begins "I can"
Another is trapped in haunting fragments.
The shifting fields of our loss and balance change
Heavy black lines remain.
New words float down in clouds
At the time of the uncertainties of this world.
More emerges.
A fledgling is developing.
Anyone can.
There is hope in all.
15 September 2010
A Good List
Characters
First there's blue-eyed Neal Caffrey with his brilliant mind,
his confidant Mozzie holds mysteries untold.
Agent Peter Burke gets them out of a bind
and he'll never leave a man behind;
he has a heart of gold.
Juliet O'Hara is smart and pretty,
her partner Carlton can be a grouch.
Shawn Spencer's remarks are often witty,
and his best friend Gus has a little girl kitty
who likes to shed on the couch.
Leonard McCoy is a doctor in space,
he's gruff but a very good friend.
James T. Kirk can flirt with grace,
Chekov's brain could win a race.
Spock always comes through in the end.
Ford Prefect knows where is towel is,
and he's totally one hoopy frood.
Marvin the robot's a computing whiz,
Zaphod Beeblebrox is in the criminal 'biz.
Arthur Dent thinks tea is good.
Professor Moriarty came from Conan Doyle,
he's evil and unfortunately bright.
Doctor John Watson is unfailingly loyal,
Sherlock Holmes is hard to foil,
and in the end he's always right.
First there's blue-eyed Neal Caffrey with his brilliant mind,
his confidant Mozzie holds mysteries untold.
Agent Peter Burke gets them out of a bind
and he'll never leave a man behind;
he has a heart of gold.
Juliet O'Hara is smart and pretty,
her partner Carlton can be a grouch.
Shawn Spencer's remarks are often witty,
and his best friend Gus has a little girl kitty
who likes to shed on the couch.
Leonard McCoy is a doctor in space,
he's gruff but a very good friend.
James T. Kirk can flirt with grace,
Chekov's brain could win a race.
Spock always comes through in the end.
Ford Prefect knows where is towel is,
and he's totally one hoopy frood.
Marvin the robot's a computing whiz,
Zaphod Beeblebrox is in the criminal 'biz.
Arthur Dent thinks tea is good.
Professor Moriarty came from Conan Doyle,
he's evil and unfortunately bright.
Doctor John Watson is unfailingly loyal,
Sherlock Holmes is hard to foil,
and in the end he's always right.
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