From a prompt by my excessively introverted spouse. (Just so you all can see how seriously I take my made-up-on-the-spot rules.)
---
There were three shoes by the front door. Weston’s sneakers, and one darker blue one that looked like a slip-on. Dressy. Too thin for his foot.
At the IHOP, they gave him a stack of five pancakes. He’d ordered three. He couldn’t make the waitress understand what he was asking. He left half on the plate.
That night, his bed was up to a queen-size from a twin. After a resigned look to see if the sheets had similarly expanded, he climbed in and tried not to worry about it.
He woke up the next morning beside her, and smiled.
Showing posts with label storygasm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storygasm. Show all posts
Friday, March 26, 2010
Prompt: Zombie Paratrooper
Inspired by a prompt from Aidan Fritz.
---
“Let’s get underway,” said Major General Lusin. OrCAs interpreted the subtle inflections of Lusin’s voice, registered the command, and automatically began launch procedures. The capsules spiraled out from the containment unit, a dark cube surrounded now by a cloud of glowing dots as the reflective sails caught the light. The cloud elongated, attenuated, stretching down to the planet’s surface.
“Troops launched,” OrCAs announced.
“Fucking robots,” Lusin muttered.
“Sir,” OrCAs said, “we have no mechanized troops. Our corps is composed primarily of NHST-101; ninety-six percent human tissue.”
“Goddamned zombies, then,” said Lusin. He slurped his soy-caff angrily.
“As you wish, sir.”
---
“Let’s get underway,” said Major General Lusin. OrCAs interpreted the subtle inflections of Lusin’s voice, registered the command, and automatically began launch procedures. The capsules spiraled out from the containment unit, a dark cube surrounded now by a cloud of glowing dots as the reflective sails caught the light. The cloud elongated, attenuated, stretching down to the planet’s surface.
“Troops launched,” OrCAs announced.
“Fucking robots,” Lusin muttered.
“Sir,” OrCAs said, “we have no mechanized troops. Our corps is composed primarily of NHST-101; ninety-six percent human tissue.”
“Goddamned zombies, then,” said Lusin. He slurped his soy-caff angrily.
“As you wish, sir.”
Prompt: Bloodshot Eyes, Sporting Purple Stitches
Inspired by a prompt from Deb Markanton.
---
Frank lost his head on the last play. The offensive tackle let the opposing team through for a vicious sacking. Now his teammates gathered around while Frank glared up at them, bloodshot eyes stark against greenish skin. In the background, his body – still nearly seven feet tall – blundered into the goalposts.
“Just pick me up!” Frank’s head snapped.
The other players glanced at each other.
“At least bring the rest of me over here.”
There was a creaking sound. Frank’s body had its hands around the goalpost. The metal was slowly crumpling under the steady pressure.
“Pussies,” said Frank’s head.
---
Frank lost his head on the last play. The offensive tackle let the opposing team through for a vicious sacking. Now his teammates gathered around while Frank glared up at them, bloodshot eyes stark against greenish skin. In the background, his body – still nearly seven feet tall – blundered into the goalposts.
“Just pick me up!” Frank’s head snapped.
The other players glanced at each other.
“At least bring the rest of me over here.”
There was a creaking sound. Frank’s body had its hands around the goalpost. The metal was slowly crumpling under the steady pressure.
“Pussies,” said Frank’s head.
Prompt: Stalked by the Avenger of Blood (Numbers 35:16)
Inspired by a prompt from Loren Eaton
---
He who kills a man with a metal weapon, he will meet me and I shall pierce his heart. He who kills a man with a stone, he will meet me and I shall sink him down. He who kills a man with a wooden tool, he will meet me and I will crush his bones.
Metal, stone, and wood; you have touched none of these. You said nothing. You did nothing.
You have murdered with nothing. You have killed with words.
You will meet me, and I will speak your name.
I am blood. Hear my voice.
---
He who kills a man with a metal weapon, he will meet me and I shall pierce his heart. He who kills a man with a stone, he will meet me and I shall sink him down. He who kills a man with a wooden tool, he will meet me and I will crush his bones.
Metal, stone, and wood; you have touched none of these. You said nothing. You did nothing.
You have murdered with nothing. You have killed with words.
You will meet me, and I will speak your name.
I am blood. Hear my voice.
Prompt: A Meeting of Aardvarks Anonymous
Inspired by a prompt from Lanse.
---
Joey shuffled toward the card table with the rest of the group. He had to take his claws off to hold his glass of punch.
“I like your suit,” said Glyssa. Her snout was pushed up to her forehead, making her look like a unicorn.
“Thanks,” said Joey.
“Here, try some of these.” Glyssa pushed something into his hands.
“Earth-pigs do not eat candy.” The words were out before he could stop them. Joey blushed, but Glyssa ignored his outburst.
“It’s chocolate-covered ants,” Glyssa said.
“Really?” He bit into the square. Crunchy. “That’s cheating, isn’t it?” He paused. “Good, though.”
---
Joey shuffled toward the card table with the rest of the group. He had to take his claws off to hold his glass of punch.
“I like your suit,” said Glyssa. Her snout was pushed up to her forehead, making her look like a unicorn.
“Thanks,” said Joey.
“Here, try some of these.” Glyssa pushed something into his hands.
“Earth-pigs do not eat candy.” The words were out before he could stop them. Joey blushed, but Glyssa ignored his outburst.
“It’s chocolate-covered ants,” Glyssa said.
“Really?” He bit into the square. Crunchy. “That’s cheating, isn’t it?” He paused. “Good, though.”
Prompt: Fall of the Berlin Wall
Inspired by a prompt from Jim Murdoch
---
It begins and ends with roots. Rooted in history. Rooted in blood. Rooted in dirt.
The dirt is fundamental. Things rise up out of dirt, out of rocks. Everything comes back to dirt.
The roots wend their way down. They crumble cities and split mountains, but without drama. Drama is artificial. Roots are natural, and very businesslike. A little at a time, they pry stones apart, gnaw mortar, spread and spread and while they break it up, they hold it together, and you’d never know it to look at it but it’s already falling apart.
Then one day someone… pushes.
---
It begins and ends with roots. Rooted in history. Rooted in blood. Rooted in dirt.
The dirt is fundamental. Things rise up out of dirt, out of rocks. Everything comes back to dirt.
The roots wend their way down. They crumble cities and split mountains, but without drama. Drama is artificial. Roots are natural, and very businesslike. A little at a time, they pry stones apart, gnaw mortar, spread and spread and while they break it up, they hold it together, and you’d never know it to look at it but it’s already falling apart.
Then one day someone… pushes.
(Cheatyfaced) Prompt: (Good) Flying Snail and (Angry) Tentacle Monster
Inspired by a prompt from Angelo (Kalak_of_Tyr)
---
“Hup-hup,” said MacGregor. He would have patted Gruumsk encouragingly, but as a gastropod, he had no hands. The mayfly city spun beneath them as they descended.
“Smaaaaaaaaash…” Gruumsk rumbled.
“No, no. No smashing. We’re here to help these nice arthropods.” MacGregor waggled his antennae and lifted his top hat to wave at the crowds. His shell gleamed in the sun.
Suddenly, the waters at the port boiled, and the Terrible Carp reared up from the depths. Its armor rattled as it brayed defiance at the hovering snail and his jellyfish mount.
“Aha!” said MacGregor. “Gruumsk?”
“Rurrr?”
“Now you may smash.”
---
“Hup-hup,” said MacGregor. He would have patted Gruumsk encouragingly, but as a gastropod, he had no hands. The mayfly city spun beneath them as they descended.
“Smaaaaaaaaash…” Gruumsk rumbled.
“No, no. No smashing. We’re here to help these nice arthropods.” MacGregor waggled his antennae and lifted his top hat to wave at the crowds. His shell gleamed in the sun.
Suddenly, the waters at the port boiled, and the Terrible Carp reared up from the depths. Its armor rattled as it brayed defiance at the hovering snail and his jellyfish mount.
“Aha!” said MacGregor. “Gruumsk?”
“Rurrr?”
“Now you may smash.”
Prompt: Voracious Chipmunks in a Line
Inspired by a prompt from Donna Hole
---
The itching was the worst part. He lay sprawled on the forest floor and wished he could move. One by one, the gnats and flies and ticks came. One by one, they latched on and took their pound of flesh in drops of blood. His skin was a mass of welts, throbbing and swollen, and still they came.
He shifted and writhed against his intangible bonds. At last he managed to raise his head. The insects were almost finished, now, but behind them he saw a fuzzy brown line, stretching away through the trees.
The chipmunks waited for their turn.
---
The itching was the worst part. He lay sprawled on the forest floor and wished he could move. One by one, the gnats and flies and ticks came. One by one, they latched on and took their pound of flesh in drops of blood. His skin was a mass of welts, throbbing and swollen, and still they came.
He shifted and writhed against his intangible bonds. At last he managed to raise his head. The insects were almost finished, now, but behind them he saw a fuzzy brown line, stretching away through the trees.
The chipmunks waited for their turn.
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