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Post by Battlechantress on Apr 22, 2012 3:58:37 GMT 1
21 April 2012
Where is my mind? I see it drifting with the stars, trying to catch a meteor streaking by before it fades into nothing. Where shall my mind go? The brightest star to the northeast seems inviting. What will it do once it gets there? Will it see planets in erratic orbits? Alien crafts perched like giant hulks waiting for the first strike on a space whale as it glides past in unseen waves? Could it survive an encounter with a gas giant and the weight of its gravity? Or would it go mad hearing waves of 80s music floating by?
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Post by Mister Buch on Apr 22, 2012 21:51:21 GMT 1
I've run ahead and done up to the 29th of this month - so here are the rest of mine!
24
Lin isn't going to work today. There's a spider on her bedroom doorknob and she can't get out. It's a money spider, so miniscule that she barely saw it at first. This is pathetic, but she doesn't acknowledge that. It doesn't make sense, she thinks: she isn't even afraid of spiders. Or she wasn't. Today she is.
Her chin sits uncomfortably on her bony knees as she just stares at the spider, waiting for it to move. Her stretched Return of the Jedi t-shirt is crumpled by the door. She was going to wear it beneath her uniform today.
25
The square panel drops down on hinges, flaps up and down three times quickly and rests. We move silently according to our instructions to lift the first bomb and then drop it. Politely, it falls backwards and away from our work. We lift another and drop it, and then the next one along starts to roll forward, clattering a little and bouncing. We have to break our startled state to stop it, lift it, drop it. It falls on time. Then the other three, with extra care. The cameras show us later that they fell in a perfect diagonal slope.
26
The reservoir's stuffy greyish surface reacts to Mark's arms with irritation, rippling away from him and across him, flattening his hairs for a moment with all its force. The water tries to get in his ears but slips out again and drops off the small lobes, shiny and glass-delicate in a way it wasn't before. When his head is beneath the water it seems to pounce on him, you think. Pounce?
You're staring again.
He's very handsome, is Mark. You just watch from the bank, still in your clothes, and wrap your arms around yourself. Maybe you'll join in.
27
"Clarissa," her mother says as she clinks her wide, dull, flower-painted mug of tea onto the white saucer. Clarissa winces. "Are you listening?"
Clarissa has never liked her name. She thinks it sounds like glass breaking. "I'm listening," she says.
Mum inhales sharply. The air seems to catch in her throat so that she needs to have another sip, and another clink. Almost a clatter this time. Too much force. She almost spilt.
Neither of them speaks again. Whatever it is her mum has to say, whatever made her invite Clarissa out for lunch, isn't going to happen today.
28
One day Micah's path took him into a caravan of Census Union thugs. We won't go into details here, but take my word that they really deserved it. I mean really, so he loses his cool. The first guy dies by Micah's thumbs and the other seven get shot with their watchman's gun, right up until there are no bullets that fit.
I tracked him. I figures he must be either sobbing, drinking or butchering a village by now, right? Found him watching a play. The Frontier doesn't teach a man that kind of strength. I don't know what does.
29
The Jamaacia Inn smelled beautiful. Beautifully exotic. It didn't smell like any kind of incense I was used to, but then again I wasn't exactly used to incense. Regardless, that smell will always be my prevailing memory of the Yamaathi temple belt.
It was the highlight of the whole trip, for all of us. Nothing had gone to hell at that point. And it was romantic. Tom and I were getting used to flirting... the ceiling was thick with carvings of blue angels. That was a perfect night.
We were ready to sleep, and to go home in the morning.
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Post by Battlechantress on Apr 23, 2012 3:46:07 GMT 1
22 April 2012
They say that to "find myself", I should spend time away from others and try to keep my mind quiet. And yet people continue to intrude through the house with their weapons drawn while I sit on the bed, cross-legged, making sure my mind is empty of thought. As the first shadow crosses the threshold, my brain ceases its blather and I feel "clear", as though the mental garbage finally stopped slinging around and there is... peace. With this moment of clarity I finally have--
Click. The shadow before me grows into solid form. I am out of time
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Post by Battlechantress on Apr 25, 2012 4:02:23 GMT 1
23 April 2012
There's a yellow sheet of paper on my messy desk that advertises a 5K run for a few local rescues. I keep telling myself to sign up for it, and yet I have a sinking feeling that I won't. It has been nearly a year since I was woken up at 7:30 a.m. with the diagnosis that ultimately changed my life, and I can't say that I'm doing any better now that I know what is finally wrong with me. It's a struggle to run a mile now, never mind 3, and I don't think it will improve.
24 April 2012
"Wanda, you mind doing something for me?"
I get asked that question at least once a day. I don't mind; she's a sweet old lady who's deaf as a doornail (who invented that phrase, I wonder? Because a lot of inanimate objects are "deaf"). Like me, she used to live around Boston before moving out here as a "snowbird" a few years ago. Unlike me, she still has her old town's accent (which I never really had to start with).
It's just that, after two years, she still keeps calling me by the wrong name. Is it worth correcting her now?
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Post by Battlechantress on Apr 27, 2012 3:05:59 GMT 1
25 April 2012
"Do I have to do this?"
"Come on, only a few more days. With no fresh ideas. This will be fun."
"You're sober too."
"Don't remind me. Think it's worth catching up on 'Whitechapel' when you can barely tell who's who?"
"Just to watch next week's season finale. Heard any good jokes lately?"
"A magician and a parrot are on a cruise ship doing their magic act routine...."
"I don't think there's enough room for all of that here. Think the corgi's got breathing issues, or he's just an old crank?"
"Maybe both, but I'm leaning towards old and cranky."
26 April 2012
"Are you ready?" All the body can answer is a feeble nod before it is stuffed lengthwise into a crate that it cannot completely fit in. The conveyor belt starts up and the crate moves toward the forge, slowly but smoothly. Just before the edge of the crate could be consumed by flames, the belt shakes and jerks in reverse. Realizing what's happening, the body tries desperately to get somebody--anybody's-- attention. The female form raises its right hand slowly and croaks, "Let me go back into the Light!" Not sure if anybody hears her, she musters a weak shout.
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Post by Battlechantress on Apr 29, 2012 4:35:11 GMT 1
27 April 2012
Her head turns to face the arm making random gestures to her right, as though she has no recollection of why it moves, or who (ostensibly) controls the movements behind it. 'There are no strings, no wires' she realizes as her head turns a bit more slowly. Her vision blurs briefly as she tries to keep the grasping limp in focus. She is mostly successful before her head slowly turns to the left. It is at that moment she realizes the left arm is under her, pinned between the fold of her thigh over her calf. Her right leg hurts.
28 April 2012
A humanoid shape hovers near the wheel and controls of the belt who tries to do whatever is necessary to avoid having to concentrate, much less think, on whatever he is doing. Better still to reminisce about the school dance he didn't have the nerve to ask Katherine to go to. But that body in the crate keeps making noises the further she gets away from the forge. He's irritated that she is getting so agitated. Better to send her into the forge even if the paperwork is half-done than to keep her like this, barely functioning and all.
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Post by Mister Buch on Apr 29, 2012 13:52:09 GMT 1
Loved that last one.
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Post by Battlechantress on Apr 30, 2012 3:41:20 GMT 1
Thanks. The following actually happened at work.
29 April 2012
There are times when I am alone with my patients and discuss things the co-workers wouldn't want to hear. A random question from a demented patient a moment earlier lets us talk our real minds: "Have you lost something?" This after we found her toes before breakfast.
"My mind." It's an honest reply, though I wonder lately if I ever had one.
"Well, go get another one!" Her lucid moments are rare, fleeting. I wonder if she herself tried to get one from the doctor that diagnosed her.
"They don't just hand them out," is my weak reply.
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Post by Mister Buch on Apr 30, 2012 16:47:46 GMT 1
That's rather good too, true or otherwise.
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Post by Battlechantress on May 1, 2012 15:05:02 GMT 1
The last one of the month. This is based on a true event as well.
30 April 2012
I stumbled outside after the storm this morning to hear a feline cry for help from the truck. After looking high and low for the source of the meowing, I discovered that the little orange ball of damp fur had somehow jumped from the back of the truck onto the top of the car port, presumably to get away from the roaming stray dogs or a coyote. I have since discovered that to successfully remove the clawed furball, you will need a flak jacket, Kevlar gloves, and a welding mask (if you happen to have one). Don't expect any thanks.
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Post by Tillian Panthesis on Nov 25, 2012 7:24:07 GMT 1
Necro the thread because I don't want to start up an actual 100 words December thread, just yet. I need to see if there's enough people on board for it.
Is anyone feeling up for that 100 word to close up 2012?
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Post by Mister Buch on Nov 25, 2012 15:53:44 GMT 1
Hmmmmmm.... I dunno, I might sit it out. I'm trying to write my fantasy book at the moment...
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Post by Tillian Panthesis on Nov 25, 2012 16:11:37 GMT 1
Fair enough, Buch. Can't blame you.
It might be too early, but from the looks of it, the December 100 words thing isn't going to happen. Pity, I was about to write a original wuxia short story if this going to kick off.
Well that's 2012 for you, sorry forks.
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Post by Mister Buch on Nov 25, 2012 16:23:04 GMT 1
December 100 words isn't going to happen? Why not?
And you absolutely, totally and completely should do a wuxia short story. That needs to happen.
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Post by Tillian Panthesis on Nov 25, 2012 16:37:16 GMT 1
Don't know... some of the old timers that usually does the 100 words monthly are either not on this forum anymore or very busy I have to say. Come to think of it, I miss Lieden very much and personally I do enjoy talking to a fellow artist.
Anyway, I was thinking about something close to my own roots, hence wuxia since I've grew up watching them as kid. Or some asian mythos I could work on, which I'm leaning into that at the moment.
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