November 5, 2015

From “The Aviary’s Secret” by Cassity Everheart

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“I love this waterfront. Nobody does a riverwalk like the Europeans.”

“It probably wasn’t as romantic a hundred years ago when this was all pollution and ooze.”

“Still, look at it now. All that stonework…ships in the river…everything is so clean and orderly.”

“Just like the stereotype of France, I’m sure.”

“Can’t you just enjoy the experience? Look at that sky! Look at those buildings!”

“No, I can’t. And I’ll tell you why.”

“Why?”

“See that aviary over there? Those birds have been staring at us through their old-timey bars since we got here.”

“Probably just looking for a handout.”

“No, that’s not what scares me at all. One of them has something in its beak.”

“What is it? I can’t quite see.”

“It looks like…the key to a Renault. What kind of car did we rent again?”

Inspired by the song ‘Heckle and Jeckle’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 4, 2015

From “Queen Charlotte’s Garden” by Gerton Hardcastle

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“You all know me as a consciencious woman, and I intend that to be the case into my reign,” said Charlotte. Though not yet officially invested as Queen of Anjion, she posessed the Privy Seal and the full backing of the Estates of the Realm.

More importantly, with her parents both the only child of only children, and her brother dead in a shallow foreign grave, Charlotte was the only claimant to the throne who was not also a noble from the hated rival kingdom of Burgevy.

The garden party, amid the magnificent topiary that had been the passion of Charlotte’s father King Gordon, was the first chance for nobles from the First Estate to meet and speak with their young new queen.

“The military adventurism of my brother Sebastian is at an end,” Charlotte continued. “My ministers have just inked a proposal for a lasting peace between the Malmidites and ourselves that will include the return of hostages and the bodies of the dead in return for a small indemnity.

“Truly, yours is an enlightened reign to be,” said the Earl of Salaman. “We, the nobles of the First Estate, stand ready to advise her majesty on all matters of import.”

“Ah, yes, that,” said Queen Charlotte with a delicate smile. “It’s come to my attention that there has been quite a bit of jockeying for…influence…in my court. I want it understood that the final decision in all such matters will rest with me.”

“Surely her majesty would be more comfortable with a firm male hand on the rudder of the ship of state,” said the Marquis D’Undine. “We would not seek to have the full weight of administration resting on such delicate shoulders.”

“Of course you would,” said Charlotte mildly. “Which is why you are going to trim this entire garden this afternoon.”

“I…I beg your pardon, majesty?” stammered Marquis D’Undine.

“With your sword,” Charlotte added. “My father, King Gordon, found his greatest inspiration in statecraft from his topiary and flowers. I trust it will be just as inspiring to your lordship.”

“Your majesty, I must protest,” said the Earl of Salaman. “Asking a member of the first estate to do such a thing with his sword of state? That is unheard of. Uncalled for!”

“You are quite right, my lordship,” said Charlotte with a quiet curtsey. “You will assist the Marquis in his cultivation, and I will assign a few of my Life Guards to oversee your efforts and ensure that you do not neglect your education.”

Before any more protests could be uttered, Queen Charlotte was away, moving with a brisk step.

“If they protest or try to escape, see that they trim the black poisonwood next. Without any gloves. The blisters will serve as a reminder of their lesson today.” In a singsong voice, Charlotte continued: “Now, let us away to the piano for a jaunty tune.”

Inspired by the song ‘Queen Charlotte’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 3, 2015

From “One’s Ascent” by Ace Stenson

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The ancient seal cracked open, metal groaning as gears and pistons long since seized were brought shuddering back to life by pure mechanical force.

One was still under heavy fire from the Guard, who were trying their best to flush her out with hand grenades. Only the quality of the elder machines’ manufacture kept her safe, as the high explosives and shrapnel didn’t even cause a dent.

In such a confined space, the concussions were enough to make One’s ears ring, and she could Three’s words in the muffled echoes that filled her head. “There’s nothing up there but death. It will be the end of you, don’t you see?”

Another shriek of long-dormant girders. One recalled what she’d been told by Two and pulled the dark welder’s goggles down over her eyes. Seconds later, the seal parted and a torrent of pure white light spilled from the widening gap.

This was too much for the Guard, it seemed. They abandoned their assault in a frenzy of terror, throwing down weapons, casting off helmets. One’s salvation, it seemed, was their damnation.

Fearlessly, she moved into the breach.

Even with the goggles, the light was at first overpowering, a solid wall of white that swallowed all nuance, all color. But gradually, as eyes long-used to the underground adjusted, new hues appeared. Greens and blues, browns and greys…

And the air. So fresh and clean and pure, without a hint of diesel fumes or ozone.

As more things became clear, One stumbled to the top of a small crag and looked around her. An entire world, just like the ones in the picture books, was open around and above and below her. The sheer openness was such that she swayed giddily and queasily, but One didn’t waver.

“This is my world now,” she said softly. “Mine to explore, mine to cherish…mine to share with the others.”

Inspired by the song ‘1 plus 1 equal 1’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 2, 2015

“Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story 2015” by Fish Osgood et al.

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Nano Poblano Blog Hop Basics:
1. Wait until you are tagged, then add a new post on your blog with these rules, the story so far, and who’s been tagged.
2. Title and tag the post as Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story 2015.
3. Add at least one sentence to the story.
4. Pick another Pepper from the blogroll to tag (preferably one who hasn’t already been tagged).
5. Add a link to your chosen Pepper’s about page (so they get a notification that they’ve been tagged) to the tagged list below.
6. Pass the story along within two days of getting tagged.

The Story So Far:
Eli stumbled into the compartment, flush and out of breath, and took the only available seat next to an old woman and a child. After months of planning, he suddenly had a bad feeling about this and stood right back up again, but at the same time, the train started moving.

There was no going back. As if to accentuate the point, the jerk of the train starting thrust Eli into his seat. Was he doing the right thing? Was he doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? Eli didn’t really know. What he did know was that the old lady had fake teeth that hadn’t been cleaned in a while, and the child reminded him of all the scary movies he’d seen about children. But that was besides the point. Eli was on a mission. Kind of.

He cringed, wishing he had planned this trip differently. The train ride lasted a full hour, plenty of time for things to go wrong when split-second timing was needed.

A droplet of sweat beaded at the end of Eli’s reddened face as he tried to catch his breath. Luckily, the old woman seemed to be busy telling the child a long and rambling fairy story. She hadn’t even noticed her fellow passenger.

Eli meant to keep it that way.

Tagged:
Fish of Gold
A Disquieted Mind
tj6james6
Excerpts from Nonexistent Books
I hereby tag: NotAPunkRocker

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November 1, 2015

From “Lola’s Ride” by Lois Adler

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Lola’s boots crunched on the new snow despite her efforts to be quiet. She wasn’t even supposed to be awake yet, much less outside, much less with the keys to the aerosled. It was a dangerous enough machine when it was working properly, but the stiff winds that howled down the frigid plains risked upsetting the vehicle at every turn.

The thing Father failed to realize, though, was that the aerosled was also by far the most fun thing in the settlement during winter.

The storage shed creaked open, revealing the aeroled resting on its wooden skids, keeping the skis from direct contact with the frozen ground. Lola carefully replicated the steps she’d seen Father and Grandfather do a hundred times: putting in the winter oil, loading up the special starter, and then easing the aerosled off its skids and onto the fresh snow before cranking the propeller. The din would surely wake everyone in the house, but Lola didn’t care.

She was past that now.

As the propeller sputtered to life, Lola hopped in the cockpit and took the controls. She grinned, frigid air in her face and hair spread out in a halo around her, as she steered onto the frozen lake.

Inspired by the song ‘Vivid’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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October 31, 2015

From “The Muse of Goo” by Altos Wexan

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I roll to my feet, giddy with dehydration and dizzy wth sickness. The pharmacy’s worth of meds coursting through my veins is the only thing allowing me to get even that far. My objective: the computer screen across the room.

“Oh come on now,” grunts my creative muse. He sprawls out over the couch that I had occupied until a moment ago in wifebeater and boxers, beer in hand. As always, his metaphysical appearance is a direct invitation to litigation from Stephen King’s On Writing that only my obscurity prevents from making it to Maine Superior Court.

“Come on what?” I say, rolling a pair of kleenex pills and jamming them in my nose to dam up the flow.

“You’re stick with the Bug that Will Not Die,” my muse cries. “Every time you think you’ve licked it you wake up with a headache measured on the Richter scale and more goo than a Jell-O factory gumming up your various ducts.”

“Yeah,” I croak. “So?”

“So how do you expect to write, much less finish, a book under those conditions?” my muse cries. “Especially when it’s the most nebulous idea yo’ve had in years?”

“I’m working on getting it nailed down,” I reply, slumping into my chair. “It’s gonna have themes, more complex themes than a John Williams concert. You’ll see.”

My muse snorts. “Or it’ll be more wishy-washy than a drive-thru no-touch,” he says.

“Hey,” I snap, inasmuch as my gooey passages allow such sharpness. “I finished a book for Camp Naonowrimo this year already!”

“Yeah, and it was a flabby, rushed piece of…stuff,” my muse says. “You wrote it under ideal conditions, too, with nothing going on at work and even less at home. How do you expect to jam a full book into the time you have this month, especially if you want to get all of those so-called themes in there?”

“I’ll find a way,” I say. “I always do.”

“We’ll see,” grunts my muse. “Oh, we’ll see about that. Aim for the stars with science fiction and burn up in the atmosphere. Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last.”

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October 30, 2015

From “Rats Against Jovan” by Axton Wales

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“Who…who said that?” cried the halfling.

“Down here!”

Looking down, the halfling gasped and backed away. A rat was speaking to her, a rat that was short even by the generous standards of rats. But it was also speaking in a squeaky but confident voice.

“Behold! Where if your god Jovan now? If vermin may speak, then tremble for all is lost!”

Wailing, the halfling cast down her crossbow and fled sobbing. The rat climbed up to the arrow slit she had been guarding, and motioned to the rest of her party with one tiny paw.

“Tinuviel,” said Adenan. “You should be nice to her. She’s just brainwashed. Aunty told us to rescue her friends, not to scare them to death.”

Tinuviwl the rat harrumphed. “If I’m going to be the one that gets hit with a polymorph trap, I might as well have some fun with it,” she squeaked.

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October 29, 2015

From “The Thinning of the Veil” by Leith G. Vinnin

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The veil is thinner this month
Shades of the departed dance
The was and the never-were laugh
Strange noises against dark velvet

The veil is thinner this month
Not because of the spirits
Not because of the moon
Not because of the spheres

The veil is thinner this month
Because people believe it is so
The veil is their perception
And it thins when they will it

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October 28, 2015

From “The 133 Days” by Tad Shey

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The revelation that the Republic of Mashriq had quietly accepted arms and aid from Israel to defeat the Sharaqa rebels was effectively the end of the government.

President Tariq claimed for the rest of his life that there was no evidence other than slander and rumor and that he had been framed. Indeed, what evidence did surface–primarily in the form of Israel-made weapons in government stores–was circumstantial especially since it was publicized long after his death. Some have said that the Sharaqa deliberately planted the evidence, although in the chaos that followed the truth was most likely lost.

What happened next, though, is not in dispute. The Mashriqi army disintegrated, going over en masse to the Sharaqa, and the front against the rebels collapsed overnight. In the face of massive protests and violence, their forces entered the capital unopposed. The turnabout was so swift that President Tariq’s brother, the Minister of the Interior, was caught and killed in his own home.

The next 4 months of the Sharaqa in power would become known as “the 133 days.”

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October 27, 2015

From “The First Disappearance” by Adrian Seppace

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The police found the tire tracks. That was easy enough; the area was still crunchy with fresh-strewn snow, and the perp had skidded all over the place in his haste to get away.

They found the spot where the car had idled for a while, melting the snow beneath it and leaving a quartet of tire impressions in the night’s heavy snowfall.

That was the easy part. And it was easy to see that they hadn’t missed anything. There were no tracks leading away, no footprints, and no trace of the $5000 stashed in a garbage bag from the holdup.

The problems arose when they had to ask where, exactly, the truck and its occupant had gone.

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