Challenge #00683 - A318: Different Perspective
Free prompt! This ticket entitles the writer to do any daily drabble that just needs to be written, and may be used out of sequence.
[AN: The following is a preview of sorts for my book-in-progress, Kung Fu Zombies. However the point of view presented may not appear in the book. Essentially, I’m cleansing my mental palette]
If she wanted to be kind, E would say that Aiden astonished her. Amazed, confounded and confused. Maybe even a little bit of surprise.
But really?
When she got down to it?
She didn’t much want to be kind.
Especially in moments like now.
It was a mall. Like many other malls post-plague, survivors were progressively raiding it for anything that seemed or was deemed useful. Some animals were inhabiting it already. A burst pipe lead the underground parking lot to become flooded. Which meant that many animals were coming for the water. Including some fish from the mall’s fountains. They’d landed there, evidently, when some idiot had set off ordinance in the middle of a crowd.
E had told everyone to be careful in this mall. The army’s last-ditch efforts had made everything way more difficult than it had to be.
She’d told everyone twice.
And she’d made sure to tell Aiden five times, because he was exactly that kind of person.
She should have gone for a sixth.
“Oh. My. God,” whispered Torque. She pointed. “You need to step up your game, love.”
E tried to sight along Torque’s arm. “What are you talking abo–?” That double-cursed idiot kid…
Aiden had actually strapped a noisemaker to his left arm with a piece of the duct tape she’d specifically told him to hold in reserve for emergencies. Was he going to make a career out of not listening to her?
And he was headed straight for the pit that lead to the new and improved goldfish pond in the basement.
And the dangling light fixture that could not possibly hold his weight.
Oh great. “This is another idiot plan to ‘impress me’,” she sighed.
Torque made realistic vomiting motions and sounds.
“Yeah, I know. Come on. Let’s go save his sorry ass.”
“Why?”
“Bait like that, you don’t let die all at once.”
“Meh, good enough.”
They were careful, as always, getting to a place of strategic advantage. But Aiden made them rush. So they made sure they stayed on areas they knew were stable.
Neither she nor Torque wanted to make the other watch them die. And they had the extra advantage of Aiden’s show drawing all the Infected straight for him.
Which was a considerable disadvantage if they wanted him to survive for very much longer.
…which was a point of some debate, back at the Fort.
He was an annoying, whiny, self-centred ass who couldn’t see the facts in front of his face. But, dammit, he was super-effective at what he did.
Which generally manifested as falling into the midden and coming out with a shiny gold ring.
E arrived with Torque, careful to stay where most of the Infected couldn’t climb, weapons ready and watching for trouble. And they arrived just in time to see Aiden leap for the cable.
He did not swing, which would have been the stupidest move, ever. He did not climb, which would have been a move in the top ten.
No. He clung to it like it was his last hope… and transferred the noisemaker from his arm to the cable of the light fixture. Then he grinned at her like he had just solved all the world’s problems.
The Infected going after the noise fell down the gaping hole and into the flooded basement.
Torque got comfortable on their mutual perch, a tank that had fallen victim to the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune. E followed her lead. They watched the show for five minutes and then E signed, “Great work. How are you going to get out of there?”
His face was a book with large print. It said, Uhm…
“How long can you hold on?” Torque signed.
Aiden looked like he suddenly needed to go to the bathroom.
“You’re right, he’s so entertaining,” Torque whispered.
E snorted and got out her rope. It was good rope. The kind rock-climbers used to protect themselves from falling. It didn’t make the best lasso, but it could be tied to a wire coat hanger.
Good old wire coat hangers. They were like enormous paperclips. And there were always times when you really needed a piece of bendable wire.
Aiden’s ignorant grin came back as he realised what she was doing. He got ready to catch the hanger.
It was a simple enough process. Especially because Aiden had finally absorbed the repeated lesson on not swinging on things that weren’t designed to hold a human’s weight. They carefully pulled him closer to their perch. And he carefully eased further down the cable so that he could be closer.
And, when the time was right, she and Torque helped him on to the tank.
“That was almost suicidal,” she admonished in a whisper. “Don’t do it again.”
“Had to improvise,” he murmured, “They were between me and the levis.”
And then there were times like this. When he was super-effective at being blindingly selfish.
“Kill him later,” advised Torque. “We have a shopping list and he’s an extra pair of arms.”
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Challenge #00680 - A315: Putting the Om in Omnivore
T’reka and some of the weirder things humans eat….
Of course putting a settlement into otherwise pristine land was bound to cause some ecological imbalance. The absence of so very many trees meant an upswing in homeless insects. Some of whom took the deforestation as a cue to breed.
The insects fed the birds and amphibians, who took the excess food as a cue to breed.
Which meant there was now an excess of Gargantua frogs looking for food in all the wrong places. Which, in turn, meant that the inhabitants of Wiwazheer were looking for things to do with predator frogs. Specifically, things to do with predator frogs that were going after the infant domesticated birds.
Which was why -when T’reka enquired about the activity- Wiwazheer was having the First Grand Gargantuan Cook-Off.
“Oh they’re edible,” said Su-syn, busily barbecuing and basting. “We’re all finding a way to make them ‘palatable’. This was the least-cost solution.”
Small children were still finding material for the town full of chefs. Some of them were struggling with the weight of the gigantic amphibians. Some of the very small ones were attempting to herd the beasts with pointed sticks.
“I have never seen a species with the primary solution ‘can we eat it’,” T’reka confessed.
“Well, if the long answer’s ‘yes, but—’ we’ll look to other uses for the things.” Su-syn turned a frog steak over. “Want to join the judges?”
T’reka unconsciously backed away. “No. Thank you.”
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*Has entered the top 10 of Best Gifts I would love to receive*
And there isn’t a link why?
Seriously…i need this
it’s called “Kit to Thwart Writers Block“ by Elizabeth Dilk.
This is perfect.
*BREATHING HEAVILY*
Dear Santa…
(Source: slapdashera, via mrspicydad)
Challenge #00679 - A314: Ancient Beasts
Australian Pelicans are like something out of Jurassic Park - like they remember when things like them ate things like you, and are just biding their time. (I literally asked a zookeeper “do they run off with toddlers?!?” when I saw one for the first time)
[AN: I have not met any other kinds of pelicans, so I just assumed they were all like that. And for the record, they prefer fish.]
Irwin glared at the current batch of temporal tourists. Another bloody baby buggy. “Folks, you’re going to have to wait a few minutes before you can walk the path.”
“What? We paid for an hour. Our time’s already running out.”
“Were you told at Current-side that babies had to have extra protection?”
“We signed the waiver,” said the husband. “It’ll be fine. Nobody ever gets hurt on these things.”
“Yeah nobody gets hurt because we take every precaution to make sure nobody gets hurt. Which means having a stock of buggy cages here at Past-side and fitting all the baby buggies with them.”
“You want to put my daughter in a cage?” yawped mother.
Irwin sighed. She hated these kinds of tourists. She activated the hologram. “These are the gigantic pelicans we keep telling tourists not to feed. Of course, the tourists ignore us and flick them sandwiches, chips and stuff like that. Then when the food runs out? They go after small children. Last time that happened, Harry lost his arm. We’ve been using cages ever since. You either wait for a cage or go back for a refund because I’m not letting you out there to blame us for your idiocy.”
They stared at the pelican. They stared at Irwin. They looked at their darling little brat, who was far too young to appreciate dinosaurs, anyway.
“We’ll… go back for a refund,” said mother.
“Smart choice,” said Irwin.
[Muse food remaining: 25. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
—Terri Main (via pancake-angst)
(Source: maxkirin, via pancake-angst)
Not exactly a writing prompt, but figured you might get some use from it anyway.
Theory: Part of the reason for much of the socially-driven guilt and negativity about the body and sexuality is because of clothing hiding it, as if the normal human anatomy is something to be avoided and shamefully concealed. Without clothing to obscure and interfere, people would be effectively forced to confront the natural state of themselves and others, and without the perceived stigma of hiding and shame, such negative attitudes and personal guilt would soon vanish as people became more acclimated to people all being different from each other, since any differences would be openly displayed and unable to be treated as something one could or should hide.
(#00670 - A305)
They called it Eden. One of the few Havenworlds that humans settled and kept as heavenly.
Well. Except for that one island that, somehow, became the native residence of everything sharp, vicious, venomous or all three at once. Islands just like it seemed to be standards on all human colony worlds. Except for N'oz. The whole planet was like that[1].
And, like the Eden of legend, precipitation happened by mists. The winds did not exceed a gentle breeze, and almost the entire planet was a paradisiacal garden.
The next big surprise was the natives.
The buildings were simple and uncomplicated. Homes were places to sleep or share meals. Studios and workplaces were full of light and creativity.
Markets were stalls where people apparently dropped off whatever they had to trade and picked up whatever they needed.
And workshops were the only places where anyone wore clothing.
Even then, it was clearly protective gear only.
A mottled young woman tapped Ezi on the shoulder. She shouldn’t have been able to, since Ezi had her cloak-field on.
“Are you done hiding in the bushes, stranger?”
Ezi dropped her cloak and stood up. “I was trying to observe without interfering. Thanks. I’m Ezi. You are?”
“Moon Starsong,” said the native. “That’s a lot of armour.”
“It’s a life suit. It’s designed to protect me from everything.”
“Well, you don’t need it any more. You can get comfortable now.”
Wait. She expected Ezi to strip. Okay. This was happening.
But on this world, nudity was the norm.
“I’m… from a very different place. Nudity is a taboo.”
“Why?”
“Long established tradition.” Ezi got down to her Ship’s Skins, which was next to naked, anyway. Packed her suit in a capacious bag from one of its storage slots. “For me, this is comfortable.”
“That’s… really concealing.”
Ezi laughed. “I’ve had people accusing me of being indecent in this lot. Well, Ambassador, I think you need a briefing on the Galactic Alliance…” She explained other worlds, intergalactic trade, the Fellowship of Terran Planets and, finally, how hardly anybody went naked.
“Oh,” said Moon. “Offensensitivity. We have just the thing.” She dashed off to a stall and came back with a peculiar pendant. “We call these shimmer fields. They cover what anyone else would consider offensive.” She put it on and pressed a concealed button.
Suddenly, she was clad neck-to-toe in silver sparkles. Something like a cross between body paint and a discotheque.
“This is the default setting, of course. I can set it to any colour I want. And any shape. I could be covered in fish if you like.”
“Gold is fine,” said Ezi. “And you’re going to need a solid pair of shoes. Workplace safety standards.”
[1] Except for an isolated island/continent that is the next best thing to paradise. Nobody native to N'oz lives there and nobody knows why.
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The Best Genes Money Can Buy…
Adam stared past the mirror-glass and into his own eyes. They were perfect in place and symmetry, blue as the sea. His cheekbones, nose and jaw came together to make a flawless model’s face. His rational mind said that he should be happy, for he had everything he could ever want in terms of intelligence and good looks, and his parents were kind and loving. Still there was sadness inside those eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his parents that there was something wrong with him, that the perfect son they had spent so much money on gene-tailoring… wasn’t really perfect after all.
Adam could lie to his parents, to the world, but not to himself. He saw the gorgeous young man in the mirror, but he hated him utterly. He shifted uncomfortably as he glanced down at the body in the mirror, resisting the urge to flinch in distaste, as he often did at seeing it bare. Yes, it was a perfect body, but it wasn’t his. It was the body of the perfect son. But in truth, all his life Adam had known that he much more wished to be the perfect daughter.
(#00668 - A303)
He’d stolen one of his mother’s old dresses. One of her ‘circus tents’ that she dragged out and laughed at to think she was once so fat with child.
Body gestation had its risks, they said. But it was the ultimate expression of love…
That’s what mother said. They could have gone for an artificial uterus, but the fashion at the time was to use the uterus already there…
If they had been unfashionable… Maybe Adam wouldn’t be in so much trouble.
He slid the dress on. Cupped a purely imaginary bosom onto his slim frame. Restyled the hair that Adam had been allowed to grow out to a certain length. Just a little too long for a boy.
“Hi,” she breathed, trying to sound more like the girl she knew she was. “My name is Adelle…”
“Do you want it to be?”
Adam froze. Panicked. Almost messed herself. “Please don’t be mad?” she squeaked.
Mother was leaning against the doorframe with her perpetual glass of tan liquid. It was fashionable to be an alcoholic… but only those closest to her knew that it was sparkling apple juice.
“I’m not mad. The risks were explained. Including the fact that you could have missed out on some important hormones. Entirely my fault. Adelle. It’s a pretty name.”
There should have been yelling. There should have been fury. Everything she’d read on the subject told her that the bodyqueer were routinely rejected.
“Y-yes…” she stammered. “I’d like to keep it, please?”
“Of course,” said Mother. “I suspected you might not be the son I ordered. I’ve had all the right doctors lined up for some time.”
The dress dropped. “Really?”
“Of course, darling. Only the best. And always the best. Want to start the process?”
Adelle’s mouth said, “Yes please!” before her brain could think it.
It was going to be a great year.
[Muse food remaining: 33. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Overheard at the bar…
“All this time I just kinda assumed she had a couple loud, nosy roommates. She said the camera on her machine didn’t work, so that’s why she stuck to audio-only…”
“So why the post-date stress? Was she dog-ugly, and caught ya staring at her like she had two heads?”
“Three, actually. And not ugly, kinda cute, actually.”
“Pardon?”
“Imagine a bipedal Cerberus. With boobs. And about seven feet tall.”
“…right, I forgot you said you didn’t care for tall chicks.”
(#00666 - A301)
“I can see why she hid it. I mean, I don’t always let people know I’m a cephalopodic slime monster, straight off.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went out with her of course. The other two heads were very nice. Wanted to make sure I wouldn’t break her hearts and all. And… I dunno what it is, but stepping–”
“Slithering.”
“Whatever. Going out of my comfort zone? Wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. She’s amazing. She has these little warts that are all lined up under her left eye? Like little marching beauty marks…”
“You fell in love.”
“Plummeted.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I think I like her sister heads too…”
[Muse food remaining: 35. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
These are eight cells of a 64-cell page I made. All of those bitly links lead to one of the stories I have on Smashwords for free.
Those stories are:
I printed five pages, and trimmed them into four-cell strips along the rows, and now have them in a little nest in case of haloweenies who can’t have sugar.
And if they can’t read, either, we have balloons.
[Yes, we also have lollies. We are not barbarians]
Not necessarily needing to go Night Vale on this one…
To truly understand, you must look inside yourself, look deep into your heart… no, no, you’re too far down, that’s your liver, try a bit more up and to the left… ah, there you go.
(#00660 - A295)
[An: But it’s so very very Night Vale…]
“Excuse me, but my species is not transparent.”
“You’re transparent to my eyes.”
“Eugh… Sorry. Uhm… We find our internals to be offensive.”
“Not a problem. Most cogniscents tend to shun my kind. We see into the X-ray and magnetic spectrum. Honesty is key. Though clothing is translucent to us, we tend to pick fabrics that leave interesting shadows.”
“Ah, that explains the lamé…”
“Yes. Perhaps you can explain to me why my species is judged to be in poor taste.”
“Let’s begin with the lamé….”
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