Category Archives: Challenges

Flash Fiction Friday: Shotgun Curse

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Winchester Shotgun by Dionicio via www.DeviantArt.com

Winchester Shotgun by Dionicio via www.DeviantArt.com

This is a Chuck Wendig challenge from May 30th for June 6th. The challenge is to randomly choose one word each from 2 lists of 20. I rolled #6 and #14 which came out to be Shotgun Curse. Here is the story I’ve written to fit that title.

Shotgun Curse

Wilson was at the bar in the Oxbow Saloon. It was mid-afternoon and there were four guys at a scarred round wood table at the end of the bar playing five card stud. Two of the ladies that worked upstairs were standing around the table, hoping for a drink or a tip. The bartender wiped glasses as he watched the game.
It had been a bad week for Wilson. His mule had died four days ago leaving him to haul his winter’s catch of furs on a sledge behind his horse. The horse hadn’t appreciated pulling the sledge and had kicked him in the knee which was still swollen and painful to walk on. The mercantile had given him less than he expected for his furs so he couldn’t get the new shotgun he’d hoped to buy. The shotgun he inherited from his father when he died six years ago hadn’t been much but over the winter it had fallen in the half frozen East Verde River and was lost. Wilson had to go the rest of the winter without any protection or way to hunt for food. He needed a new shotgun and now there wasn’t enough money to buy one, not and buy his supplies and a new mule.
He sipped his beer and tried to think of a way to get the extra thirteen dollars he needed to buy the gun. The saloon doors swung open, letting in a blast of sunlight. Wilson turned to see who had come in.
An old man stood there, silhouetted by the light from the street. The bartender walked to Wilson’s end of the bar. “Howdy, Amos. Beer?”
The man walked to the bar and laid a shotgun on it. He looked like he’d been dragged down Main Street, filthy, torn clothes and a hat that had seen better days. “That’d be just the thing, Sam.”
Amos nodded to Wilson. “Afternoon.”
“Afternoon.” Wilson eyed the shotgun. It looked good. Stock was clean and oiled, as was the barrel. The trigger looked well-kept, there was no sign of rust or corrosion anywhere on it.
Amos drank half of his beer down. “The shotgun is for sale, young man.”
“You don’t say.”
“I don’t need it. I’m sellin’ it cheap. Twenty dollars.”
Wilson nodded. He had twenty dollars but he didn’t want to seem too eager. That would leave him with enough money to buy a new mule and his supplies for the summer, too.

The bartender wandered over after Amos stepped out back to the outhouse. “You don’t want that shotgun, son. It’s cursed.” He pulled Wilson another beer.
“How so?”
“Amos bought that gun off of a trapper last summer. The trapper said the gun was bad luck and wanted to get rid of it. Amos didn’t believe it but he’s had nothing but trouble since he got the gun. His woman ran off. His crops got infested with some sorta blight. The Apaches burnt his barn to the ground over the winter and stole all the chickens.” He shook his head. “You don’t want that gun.”
Wilson nodded but he didn’t believe in curses, he’d just had a run of bad luck all on his own. When Amos came back they made a deal and Wilson picked up the gun. Amos left the saloon with half a glass of beer still on the bar.
The next spring, on a fine clear day, Wilson came into the Oxbow. His clothes were in rags, rope was wrapped around his boots to hold them together. His hair was matted and dirty as was his beard. The bartender pulled him a beer. “Looks as though you’ve had a rough winter, son.”
Wilson gulped the beer down in one breath and signaled for another. “Worst year of my life. Wolverines got into my traps and took every animal I caught. The mule took off half way through the winter and not long after that, my horse just keeled over in the stable, dead as a doornail. Mice ate my supplies. I fell in the East Verde, nearly drowned and half froze when a band of Apache chased me half way to Fort Verde and back again.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “That does sound like a spell of bad luck. What happened to the shotgun?”
Wilson took another long drink of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put the beer on the bar top. “I smashed that shotgun into pieces with a rock and threw it in the river.”

The End
760 Words
Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: The Door

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Wood in the river by SethSnap at http://sethsnap.com/2014/05/01/your-story-submerged/

Wood in the river by SethSnap at http://sethsnap.com/2014/05/01/your-story-submerged/

I follow a blog, SethSnap. In May, he posted the above picture and gave us the following prompt. “Your Story is a SethSnap (http://sethsnap.com/2014/05/01/your-story-submerged/) series in which you get to decide the story behind the photos.  You can write a story, a poem or even just one word.  You decide.I spotted this just under the water the other day.  To most it looks like a simple submerged piece of wood.  To you and I it is much more.  Tell me what you see.”  I came up with the following story.

The Door

Haley pushed hard. “What’s wrong with this door?” She gave it another, harder shove and as it flew open, water began to pour in from all four sides. Gasping for air she found herself floating in a river, the water cold as ice. The door floated beside her, snagged on a sandbar next to the river bank.
“That’s what I get,” she mumbled through chattering teeth. Getting out of the water was tough, she was numb with the cold and the bank here was high. By the time she reached the top, she was covered with thick, black river mud and had a foot long scratch from a tree root along the outside of her right arm. Hands full of last year’s fallen leaves scraped most of the mud off but she was shivering so hard her hands trembled. This universe jumping is going to kill me yet but this is better than the fire I found myself in two trips ago, she thought. I need to get dry before I freeze to death.
Haley struggled to her feet and staggered off through the woods. She found a path just a few feet away from the bank. A park then, she thought, maybe I can get some help. With arms wrapped around her to keep warm, she trotted along the path, no idea where it went. The first people she saw were a couple, walking arm in arm along the path, the woman’s head on the man’s shoulder. “Help,” Haley called out. “Can you help me?”
The pair turned around. The door never failed, it took her right to the couple she was here for. “What happened?” the young woman asked.
“I slipped on the river bank and fell in,” Haley responded, teeth chattering.
The guy took off his coat. “Here, put this on.” He helped her pull it on.
“Sorry for the mud, the bank was pretty high.”
“That’s all right,” the woman said. “I’m Ann. This is my boyfriend, Carl.”
“I’m Haley, thanks for helping me out. Sorry about the mud.”
“Come on,” Ann put her arm around Haley. “Let’s get you to your car.”
Haley had to think fast. “Uh, I came with my boyfriend. We had a fight and he left. I don’t have a car.”
Ann made a face that made it clear what she thought of a boyfriend who did that. “Well, we can take you home then. Come on, Carl. Let’s get back to the car.”
That was exactly what Haley was here to stop. “Umm, look, I don’t want to interrupt your nice day. If you’d just walk me to the park ranger station, I’ll call my roommate and she can come and get me.”
Ann was herding Haley to the parking lot. “Nonsense. It won’t be a problem.”
It will if I let you get in the car and drive off, Haley thought. How am I going to keep these two here for another fifteen minutes.
“We were finished with our walk anyway,” Carl told her. “So really, it’s no problem at all to take you home.”
They were at the edge of the lot. She had to think fast. “Uh, you don’t mind if I try and get some more mud off before I get in your car, do you?”
“No, of course not,” Ann said. “The bathrooms are right over there. It must be very uncomfortable being covered with mud.”
Haley nodded. The mud was starting to dry. She didn’t want to think about what kind of bugs might be biting her right now. “Thanks. The dried mud is starting to itch.”
So Ann walked her to the bathroom and Carl went to the car. “I’ll just pull it up near the bathroom, take your time.”
At the bathroom door, Ann told Haley, “There’s a coffee machine inside. I’ll get you something hot to drink to help you warm up.”
“You’re a dear,” Haley smiled at her. “I’ll be right here.”
Haley closed the door and ran her hands and arms under the water. Ann appeared with the coffee. “I put cream and sugar in it, hope that’s OK.”
“Sure,” Haley said. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
“Not at all. We’ll be in the car. Take your time.”
“Thanks, Ann.”
Haley checked her watch, she needed ten more minutes. In five minutes she stuck her head out the door. “Sorry, Ann, Carl. Just another couple of minutes, OK?”
Carl waved and she went back to the bathroom. After three minutes she peeked out the door. Carl and Ann were snuggling in the front seat. Music floated out of the open car window. Haley took off the jacket and hung it on the door knob then slipped out of the door. She walked to the front of the ranger station and around the other side. From a vantage point in the woods, she watched the couple. Soon, Ann got out of the car and went to the bathroom. She called over to Carl. “She’s not here. She left your jacket.” They couple looked all around the station but after a few minutes, gave up and got in the car and drove away.
Haley trotted back to the river. Another couple saved. Their daughter would be born and grow up to be a great author one day. The door was where she left it. Time to go home.
The End
852 Words
Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: The Enemy Rule

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The day they came by steve2727 d3ddhcp via www.deviantart.com

The day they came by steve2727 d3ddhcp via www.deviantart.com

Today’s story is thanks to the Chuck Wendig Challenge of August 1st at http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2014/08/01/flash-fiction-challenge-random-title-challenge/ . He provided a list of story titles and it was my job to pick one and write a story to it. This type of writing exercise really stretches the brain. Here’s my take on the title I picked:

The Enemy Rule

I watched as a pair of soldiers stapled an eleven by fourteen inch sheet of paper to the telephone pole. Little knots of people stood around every other pole along Main Street, reading the sheets the enemy had just posted.
I had just come out of the Co-op. There was nothing inside except a few exotic canned goods. One of the first directives to come from the enemy was for farmers to take all of their produce to the industrial park where they had set up an efficient shipping line. Everything was sent back to their country.
When they marched on to the next pole I stepped up to read the notice. A notice! We were back to the seventeenth century. The enemy had dropped four electro-magnetic pulse bombs across the country. That’s all it took to fry every electronic device we depended on and send us back nearly to the stone age. An antique car sputtered down Main Street. Everyone on the street turned to watch. The old cars weren’t electronic so anyone with a rusting hulk in the back yard was doing their best to resurrect the beasts. It was hard to do when parts had to be scrounged locally.
I read the poster.

ATTENTION
1. Curfew is sundown. Anyone outside after sundown will be tried in the People’s Court of the New Republic and shot.
2. No groups shall form larger than three non-family people. Anyone found in a non-family group larger than three people will be tried in the People’s Court of the New Republic and shot.
3. No travel is permitted outside town limits. All travel across town limit borders must be approved by the People’s Superintendent of the town. Anyone found travelling without the proper permits will be tried in the People’s Court of the New Republic and shot.

It was clear they just wanted to shoot us all and make way for the immigrants. Half of my block had already been cleared. The Wilson family next door were all shot the first day of the invasion. John tried to keep the soldiers out of his house. They dragged the whole family out on the front lawn and shot them, including the dog. I was thankful that I lived alone. That was a month ago. Last week the soldiers helped a family from their country move in. They’ve already dug up the whole yard and started planting vegetables. They even ripped out Emily Wilson’s prize yellow roses. It happened all up and down the block. The new people move in and they begin planting vegetables immediately.

A squad of soldiers came around the corner in a column of two. I stepped into the street and bowed low keeping my eyes on the pavement. That was Rule One on Day One and it didn’t take us long to learn it. A lot of people were shot on Day One.

My stomach growled. My pantry was nearly bare and my tiny vegetable patch wasn’t keeping me fed and it was the height of summer. No food was reaching the markets. I stood up after the squad passed and finished reading the poster. It was more of the same. I turned away. Nothing posted since Day One told us what to do to get along, to survive.
On my block I noticed all the new families out in their yards, tending the new gardens. I bowed politely. They bowed back. There was no point in trying to talk to them. Not only did they not speak my language, they’d retreat into the house if I tried to approach. I could tell which houses the newcomers were in. They all had gardens. I stopped to count. Six houses left with original owners.

An cargo truck was parked outside a newcomer house at the other end of the block. Soldiers carried boxes and bags of food to the house. I slowed my pace and watched. The truck stopped at every newcomer house. At the Wilson’s old place I could see bags of rice, beans and boxes of canned goods and fresh vegetables, even some butcher paper wrapped meat. My stomach growled again.

When the Sergeant looked my way I bowed. He frowned. I went up my front walk and opened the door. His crew came back to the truck and delivered food to the house across the street. I shut the door and hung my shopping bag on the hook in the front hall. Are they getting food because they’re from the conquering country or because they’re cooperating by growing food?

I went out to the garden shed. Like any gardener, I had a lot of seed out there. I looked through the packets; some of it was pretty old. I dug out my seed starter trays, filled them with the last of my starter soil and wet it down. I planted one whole tray with cabbage. It was too late for pumpkin but the acorn squash might mature before the next hard frost. Those went into another tray. I held the Swiss Chard packet in my hand. This stuff could go directly in the ground and it over wintered. I put that one aside. It went that way until I ran out of trays. I pulled my tiller out of the shed and peeked into the gas reservoir. Half a tank. There was about three quarters of a can of gas. I filled the tiller tank and pulled the cord. It started right up.

It took three days to clear the sod. I noticed the new neighbors watching. The third day I even had a brief nod from the new missus over there. The Swiss Chard was the first thing I put in. Then my remaining summer lettuce seed, herbs, cucumbers, and anything that had a chance to mature before winter.

The next month the supply truck stopped at my house. I bowed to the Sergeant. He nodded back and made a check on his clipboard.

The End

998 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

End of Camp NaNo

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Picture by Randy Cockrell

Picture by Randy Cockrell

Picture by Randy Cockrell

Picture by Randy Cockrell

The last of the summer concert series was held on Saturday here in beautiful central Arizona. Attendance was spotty because we had a thunderstorm roll in. There wasn’t much rain but the sky was full of lightning flashing through the clouds. Exhilerating.
The hornworms have arrived. You can see a picture my husband shot of one medium sized guy eating my green tomato. He also took a picture of hot peppers and my butternut squash. I trained one of the squash vines up a trellis so the squashes are hanging down, away from the pill bugs which like to eat anything that’s in contact with the soil.
July’s Camp NaNo is complete for me. I told you already about the 7K short story and the first of two novelettes for my new Brown Rain series. The second novelette, I call The Downtrodden, finished at less than 20K. Not a problem. I wrote a +2K short story and I went over the 50K mark for NaNo. Toss the confetti, I completed the challenge. The 7K short story, Partners, was written for an anthology. I edited it over the course of July and sent it off to the anthology last week. I’m crossing my fingers that it gets accepted.
Hubby finished his edits of Revolution and gave them back to me. I’m working on those edits now. With luck I can get the book formatted and out at least on Amazon by the end of this week.
I went ahead and signed up for the Goodreads Ask the Author. Have a question? That’s a good place to ask it.
Thanks for stopping by my blog today.
Like any author, my books sell based on reviews. Would you be interested in getting a free copy to review for me? Go to the button on the right side of the blog or go to my Newsletter tab to sign up. Or sign up here. Use Control, Click to access the link. Let me know you’d like to be a reviewer on Goodreads or the e-tailer site of your choice.
I have an in depth interview on my Smashwords Author page. You can read it here. Don’t see information about me you’d like to know? Leave me your question in my comments and I’ll try to answer it.
Hard Choices: A Gulliver Station Story released May17th! I’m pretty excited about it. You can buy at: Apple, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or Smashwords today!

Merry-Go-Round Blog Tour: July – Mid-Year Goals Check-In

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I Must Reach My Goal by Farcry77 via www.deviantart.com

I Must Reach My Goal by Farcry77 via www.deviantart.com

Six months worth of goals. Ack! It has been a whirlwind year for me in my writing world, to be sure.  I completed all of the goals for January, February and March which to be honest, was a struggle. I just felt behind the whole time. April was tough, though I did get the cover for Hard Choices done and revealed in April. Hard Choices finalized in May right on schedule and was published. It’s always pretty exciting to send another book out into the world. I did also get some planning done in April for the May Story a Day challenge which took a little of the production pressure off of my shoulders. So in May, I managed my goal of 10 new short stories written. I love that! I signed up for the Holly Lisle world building class only to let it languish and I signed up for her How To Write A Series expansion which began in June. I’ve been keeping up with it so far.

Unfortunately April’s Camp NaNo (where I got a novella finished, a short story written and a novel started) and May’s Story a Day did nothing to instill a daily writing habit. Sometimes editing, cover design, and just plain life get in the way of sitting down to write. I know, if I make it a priority it will happen. Count me as counseled.

I submitted a story to Writers of the Future in May, called After Math, a story set in my Gulliver Station universe. I also submitted a story, Room with a Knife, to the Crew Contest in May. The Garden State Contest received, Eavesdroppers in early May; a poem, Rest, went to the Contrary Magazine in April; and after another revision, Someone Else is Living Here, went to the Southwest Authors contest mid-June.  A new story will be needed for Writers of the Future before the end of September, but that’s a whole ‘nother part of the year! In June I began the editing process for Revolution. At the time of this blog, it’s just about to be put up on Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords and Kobo. I also write non-fiction and I submitted articles for the January, March and June quarterly issues of Vision: an ezine for Writers.

Not on the goal list was a clean-up of my website: www.conniesrandomthoughts.wordpress.com. The Books tab especially was an embarrassment. I had a web-savvy friend of mine help me straighten it out. She also changed the banner at the top of the page. It looks so much better now.

July is Camp NaNo and I’m in the thick of writing a new novella, or perhaps it will stretch into a novel, who knows. And that’s one writer’s half-year. So what about you? Did you set goals at the start of the year? How have you done?

The Merry-Go-Round Blog Tour is sponsored by the website Forward Motion (http://www.fmwriters.com). The tour is you, the reader, travelling the world from author’s blog to author’s blog. There are all sorts of writers at all stages in their writing career, so there’s always something new and different to enjoy. If you want to get to know the nearly twenty other writers check out the rest of the tour at http://merrygoroundtour.blogspot.com!  Up next: Jean Schara!

Mid-Month Update for July

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Horn Worm in the Tomatoes by Randy Cockrell

Horn Worm in the Tomatoes by Randy Cockrell

I cannot believe it’s the middle of the month already. July is a busy month and I guess that’s why it’s going so fast.

Fourth of July was pretty much rained out here in Payson. The town held the fireworks but very few people were left to watch them fire off in the rain.

The garden has been going like blockbusters. I’m harvesting blackberries, swiss chard, herbs, and sungold cherry tomatoes. The other tomato plants are producing but they’re all still green. There is no sign of hornworms yet, which makes me thankful. They get as big as my forefinger and can eat a tomato plant to just stem in no time flat. This is the time of year they show up so I’ve been carefully examining the plants every time I water. Unfortunately, they look exactly like a tomato leaf so they’re tough to spot. Other plants in the garden, hot and sweet peppers, cantaloupe, summer squash, butternut squash, peas, and green and yellow beans. The cantaloupe have, so far, produced two small ‘lopes but the pill bugs are eating them before they are even close to ripe. I don’t generally like to use bug killer but if I don’t, there won’t be any cantaloupe for me. The picture at the top of the page is of a hornworm, just in case you’ve never seen one before. It looks like an alien, doesn’t it?

July’s Camp NaNo is proceeding nicely. I have a 7K short story done and yesterday I completed the first of two novelettes for my new Brown Rain series. The novelette, titled The Beginning, finished at 21K words in the first draft which puts it in the novella category. I don’t mind. Longer is nearly always better in my opinion. I’ll start the second one today and continue my march toward the 50K NaNo goal for the month. I’m at 28K, past the word mid-point with time to spare.

I’m 18 chapters into the semi-final revision of Revolution, a little over half way done. I’ll hand it off to one more editor, my hubby, for a final look see then one last edit before formatting for release. Yes, the editing, rewriting process takes longer than the 1st draft writing. Be patient, it’s on its way.

The Goodreads site offers a Question the Author option. What do you think, are there questions you’d like to ask and no place to ask them? Would you be interested if I signed up for that on the Goodreads site?

Thanks for stopping by my blog today.

Like any author, my books sell based on reviews. Would you be interested in getting a free copy to review for me? Go to the button on the right side of the blog or go to my Newsletter tab to sign up. Or sign up here. Use Control, Click to access the link. Let me know you’d like to be a reviewer on the e-tailer or Goodreads site of your choice.

I have an in depth interview on my Smashwords Author page. You can read it here. Don’t see information about me you’d like to know? Leave me your question in my comments and I’ll try to answer it.

Hard Choices: A Gulliver Station Story released May17th! I’m pretty excited about it. You can buy at: Apple, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, or Smashwords today!

Flash Fiction Friday: Where Do Babies Come From

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Betty holding a leaf on the patio. Photo by Randy Cockrell

Betty holding a leaf on the patio. Photo by Randy Cockrell

Last December I did a writing exercise where I was not to say who was doing the talking, in other words, write a short story with no dialog tags, or other ‘stage’ direction. I thought it came out pretty well but in the interest of easier reading, I’ve added dialog tags and other emotional direction.

Where Do Babies Come From

I was dashing around the kitchen in the usual after work way getting chicken ready for dinner when my daughter, Brittany, looked up from her coloring book at the kitchen table. “Amanda says babies come from mommy’s tummy’s. Is that true?”

The plate of chicken nearly slipped out of my hands. Amanda is a cute little girl but her parents keep her a little too well informed. I swallowed. “Well, that is true.”

Her favorite red-orange crayon hovered over the coloring book page. “How do they get in a mommy’s tummy?”

Now? I’m having this conversation now with a seven year old? I glanced at the clock; my husband wasn’t going to be home for at least another half hour.  “Well. Um, first; mommy’s and daddy’s fall in love.”

Her grey-blue eyes drilled into me. “And then they get a baby?”

I started to sweat. “No, not exactly.” I put the plate of chicken thighs down, washed my hands then walked over to the table. “Mommy’s and Daddy’s love each other. Then, when they think the time is right, when they have a lot of love, so much love that they have extra, then they make a baby.”

She nodded, her little face clearly rolling that information around in her head. “Do they use modeling clay? We made little people in art class out of modeling clay.”

“Noooo, not exactly.” Under my breath I muttered, “I should have bought that, How a Baby is Born, book.”

“What? You need a book to make babies?”

Why can she hear that and not hear me when I tell her it’s time for bed? “Uh, yes. I can show you pictures. How’s that? I’ll get a book that tells you all about how babies are born.”

She shrugged. “OK. Can I have a cookie?”

 

The End

302 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: Mystery on Titan

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Ice Dragon by Aerin Kayne via www.deviantart.com

Ice Dragon by Aerin Kayne via www.deviantart.com

This story came about because of a challenge on Chuck Wendig’s site. So I rolled the random generator and got Military Science Fiction and Comic Fantasy. Ack! It took me a couple of days to come up with a mash up of those two genres. After you read this, go back to Chuck’s site and check out what other writers came up with. I’m sure you’ll be entertained.

Mystery On Titan

“What a pit,” Airman First Class Carl Andrews said as he rubbed his hands together on his first day on the job. “People used to complain about being stationed in Thule, Greenland. Hell, that’s a garden spot.”

Staff Sergeant LeAnn Rice sniffed. The heat in the new base on Titan, the sixth moon of Saturn, wasn’t up to the task of keeping the base warm. Her nose ran constantly. “Well, the scientists love studying the atmosphere and the hydrocarbon lakes. We’re just here to provide a forward lookout to the edge of the solar system.”

Carl snorted. “You think aliens are gonna come streaming in from the far edge of beyond to say hi?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think, we’re here to monitor the satellites they sent out to Pluto and send a call to Earth if we see anything. It would have been nice if we could have been on the sunny side of Titan though. It’s kind of depressing being always in the dark.”

By necessity they were on a four year tour of duty. It took too long to get to Titan to make the time on base any shorter. Two years went by and in a schedule that put them together every two weeks, Carl and LeAnn were again on duty together.

“Look,” Carl pointed at his monitor. “A ship is coming in.”

LeAnn looked up from her monitor where she was making notes in the log. “Can’t be. The supply ship isn’t due for another two weeks.” She got up.

“I know that,” Carl said, “but it looks like an incoming ship to me.”

LeAnn leaned over his shoulder to peer at the screen. “It’s coming from sun-ward, that’s for sure.” She went back to her desk, changed her monitor to pick up the signal from Carl and keyed her mike. “Unidentified ship, this is Titan Base Herschel, please identify yourself.”

Carl turned to stare at her. “It’ll take a few minutes. Shouldn’t we call the Captain?”

“And tell him what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just seems like he should be informed.”

“Give it a minute, Carl.” LeAnn tapped her fingernail on the desk. She turned to a second monitor and pulled up the records from the last supply ship. Tapping the screen she scrolled to the record of the last ship’s approach to the base. The flight path traced from Earth, on its nearest rotation around the sun to Titan. The path in a blue dotted line made an arc, directly between Earth and Titan. Carl got up and stood behind her.

She tapped a command into the first screen and a dotted red line traced out behind the mystery ship, a record of its path since the computer first noticed it. LeAnn blinked. “It’s not from Earth.”

“Crap.” Carl dashed back to his seat and began a staccato tapping on his keyboard. “I’m extrapolating the path backward,” he told her. “It, uh, looks like it slipped in around Uranus and is sling-shotting toward us.” He whipped his chair around. “It’s alien.”

LeAnn hit the button to call the Captain. “We’ve got aliens on approach,” she said when he answered.

“I’ll be right there.”

Three minutes later he and Dr. Gifford, lead scientist, burst through the door. “Where is it?” Captain Brooks skidded to a stop beside her.

LeAnn pointed at her screen, the red-dotted path now longer. “I sent a call out eight minutes ago.”

“Why?” Dr. Gifford asked as he pulled his glasses off and wiped them as he stared at the screen.

“We thought it was the supply run, early.”

The speakers came to life. A thin, reedy voice nearly drowned in static came through, “Herschel Base, this is the Atamattal ship Thahhsskkt, on approach to the moon you call Titan.”

The Doctor stopped polishing his glasses mid-stroke.

The Captain grabbed the headset from LeAnn and jammed them on his head. “Thassktt,” he mangled the word. “What is your purpose?”

“Annual holiday,” the crew heard over the static. “We come here every fifty of your years.”

Captain Brooks stared at the Doctor.

The Doctor shrugged. “Must be a pretty cold species to vacation on Titan. Ask if they’ve been to Earth?”

The Captain did that.

“No, the third planet is too hot for us. Our people have been picking up your transmissions for a hundred years, so we can communicate with you. We’ll be setting down at the northern pole. The lakes are beautiful this time of year.”

“Uh, we’re happy to meet you, Thassktt.”

Two days later, a team went to speak with the aliens. The alien ship was settled on a rock outcropping and the human shuttle landed beside it. The shuttle commander and Dr. Gifford stared. There, on the so called beach, were six dragons of varying sizes. “Must be children,” Gifford pointed at two of the smallest who were throwing pawsful of the petrochemical mist at each other.

The largest dragon turned at the sound of the shuttle and spread wings, taking off in a down blast that sent smog whirling in all directions. It landed in front of the shuttle and peered in through the windows. “Sorry you can’t join us,” it said through the glass, “too cold for you.” It sighed. “It’s too bad, we love this moon but I suppose now that your species is here, we’ll have to find another vacation spot.”

“Not for a long time yet,” Gifford said. “We’d like to share cultures with you.”

The dragon nodded. “We get that all the time. An official delegation is needed, you know. It’s not for the likes of me to talk but thanks for the offer. I’ll make a report when I get home.”

He turned and rejoined his family. No amount of coaxing would get him to talk again.

Back at base, Captain Brooks made his report to Earth. The long wait began.

 

The End

985 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: Out of the Ashes

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Phoenix by FleetingEmber via www.deviantart.com

Phoenix by FleetingEmber via www.deviantart.com

On June 6th, Chuck Wendig issued a challenge, http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2014/06/06/flash-fiction-challenge-rise-of-the-phoenix/. Write a flash story that in some way relates to the fabled Phoenix of legend. Here’s my take. Click on the link and view the blog comments to see what other authors have done with the story. I think you’ll like them.

Out of the Ashes

“This tower is on the top of an extinct volcano,” the fire tower keeper, Brigette, explained to the group of nine 4-H members and their leader.

The kids ooh’d and eyebrows went up as mouths fell open.

One girl asked, “Will the volcano erupt again?”

Brigette shook her head. “The region has quieted. There probably won’t be another volcano here, ever.”

The kids looked reassured. That was just before the ground rumbled and the tower began to sway.

“What the…” she started to swear but thought better of it with all the kids around. What’s going on? This area is seismically stable. “Get down the ladder,” she yelled as the radios began to slide across the table and the humming bird feeders swung wildly in the air.

Kids ran down the ladder, the 4-H leader encouraging the ones who were frozen with fear.

“Let’s go sweetie.” Brigette took the hand of a little boy who was staring, wide-eyed. “Come on, we need to get down the stairs.” She pulled him toward the hole in the tower floor. The sound of the descending Leader and children echoed up the industrial steel steps.

They were half way down the tower when she saw her house begin to crumble. The ground was shaking and the kids already on the ground screamed. Brigette saw several of them fall. The tower swayed over her. “Let’s go, kid.” He latched onto the hand rail and wouldn’t move.

She grabbed his wrist and pulled. They had to hurry; she didn’t know how much longer the tower would stand in all the shaking. She half carried, half dragged the boy down three more circles of the stairs, the tower creaking from every rivet joint. Brigette dragged him to the Leader and turned to watch her house. The roof was caving in, the walls were tipping into the middle of the house. Boards snapped, glass shattered and the collapsing walls and roof roared. A huge cloud of dust rose over the house.

The Leader was piling kids into the mini-van. “Get in,” she said. “I’ll drive us down the mountain.”

Brigette shook her head. “No, my car seems fine. You go. I’ll be right behind you.”

The Leader shrugged and jumped into the car. “Buckle up everyone.” She did a three-point turn in the van and raced along the dirt road, dirt from her tires fountained into the air. Brigette raced to her car. At the door, she realized there was more to the noise of the house collapsing than just the wood and the glass.

She stared at the house. Is that roaring? Brigette opened the car door, the ding, ding, ding of the keys in the ignition alarm could hardly be heard. It looked like the house was trying to stand back up. “What…?”

As she watched, debris rose up and slid away from the house. A claw, the size of bus came out of the middle, shoving bits of wall and plaster out of the hole, then another, followed by a beak. Brigette blinked. A head poked up covered in red and gold feathers. It screeched as it pulled itself out of the ruin. As the sunlight hit the feathers, they began to light; waves of fire covered the monstrous bird.  A bit of egg shell flared into flame and fell off of the bird’s body.

Brigette got in the car and turned the key. The engine turned over and the bird turned its black eyes toward the noise. It screamed again. Chills ran down her spine as she shoved the gear shift into drive. “Holy crap,” she whispered as the giant bird spread its wings over the remains of her house. It flapped once, twice, screeching each time. Heat washed over her.

She sped out of the gate and followed the dirt road down the mountain as fast as she could negotiate the hairpin turns. At the nearest Forest Service office she tried to make a report. They were too busy. The area she’d just left was enveloped in forest fire. On the TV, there were reports of a giant bird flying overhead.

A reporter was interviewing an ornithologist from the University. “It’s a Phoenix,” he told the camera.

“But those are a myth,” the reporter said.

“Apparently not. From the maps, it appears that the bird has risen from an ancient volcano. That would seem appropriate, given its fire background.”

Brigette stared. A Phoenix? The whole southwest is going to burn. She grabbed a Ranger, “The TV says it’s a Phoenix. Look!” She pointed at the television. Pictures of the beast were being shown as people took pictures of it from the ground. Later in the day Emergency Defense offices opened. People were told to evacuate. The Governor appeared on TV during a phone call to the President. Aid in the form of the Air Force and Emergency Management was promised.

The next day there were reports of other Phoenix’ arising from extinct and dormant volcanoes around the world. It was now an International emergency. With only the clothes on her back, Brigette drove to Nebraska; an old college friend lived there, far away from any volcanic activity.

A year later, people huddled in caves or collapsed stone buildings, the land around them burnt and blasted. Brigette and her friend had joined forces with a few other survivors. They had a garden started and life was settling in. They learned to set snares for rabbits, no one wanted to be outside where a Phoenix, high in the sky, could see them and swoop down. The Phoenix were excellent hunters, people didn’t roam too far away from stone shelters.

One of the survivors told a child. “We thought they were a fable, a myth. They rise from the ashes, we were taught.”

Brigette stirred the communal pot of soup. “I wish they’d go back to the ashes.”

 

The End

998 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: Breakthrough

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Sparks by shaundradonna via www.deviantart.com

Sparks by shaundradonna via www.deviantart.com

I was reading an article about a break through with virus’ that have a piezoelectric characteristic and how that might be made to power small electronic devices when they’re shaken or tapped or squeezed. Here’s the story I thought of after reading that article.

Breakthrough

Carla was in her closet lab. The power from the heater came from the family’s allotment; they were all depending on her to figure this out. She checked the next beaker of virus with piezoelectric effect that were breeding on the shelf. According to her logs, this was batch seven hundred and twenty-three. At first she’d bred one batch at a time, test, and start over. It was a four day cycle. Eventually she realized she needed to have a new batch ready every day. It took space and the room had to be kept between sixty-eight degrees and seventy-two degrees. It was hard to do when the electricity shut off to the house at night and didn’t come back on until six in the morning. Then it shut off again at nine a.m. to come back at six. Her brother had helped her set up a heating and cooling system for the room three years ago. He was the one who had acquired the counters and mounted them on three sides of the room and put the shelving up for her, too. She smiled at the memory. The whole extended family was helping as best they could. Now it was up to her.

Good thing the little buggers breed quickly, she thought as she removed the beaker from the shelf. This morning she had sterilized the metal plate she used for her test platform and the beakers and other tools she’d used yesterday. She was ready to test.

The solution needed little preparation. She just had to spread the virus laden liquid across the three by four inch metal plate in a very thin layer and let it dry. She left that on the counter and moved to the batch she’d prepared the night before. The metal plate, similar to the one she’d just set to dry, looked good. There were no clumps. She turned the lights off. The sample didn’t have its own bioluminescence. That was good. While that wasn’t a contest disqualifier, she thought it wouldn’t be as desirable as one that didn’t have that characteristic. She turned the lights back on. Carla made a notation in her log book. She’d had to resort to paper two years ago as the family didn’t have enough power allowance to use a computer. No matter, when she found the right virus, they’d have all the power they needed.

After attaching the electrode leads to the metal and hooking up the volt meter, she picked up the small metal rod she used to test with. All she had to do to test the virus film was tap it. The best result she’d had was twenty-four tests ago. The reading on that test was point five of a volt. This generation of virus was from that batch, weeks ago. “Come on, boys, give me something.” Carla tapped the plate with the rod, eyes on the volt meter.

The needle swung to point eight of a volt. “Hoo!” she shouted. “Nice!”

Becky’s voice came through the door. “Everything all right in there?”

“Yeah, we’re getting close. Not good enough yet, but we’re getting close,” she called back.

She pulled a small vial of that batch of virus, marked it and recorded it in a second lab book. Carla stored it away and took the equipment from that batch to the kitchen. She washed everything in a pan of hot soapy water. The intermittent power was just enough to keep the hot water heater full but used it sparingly. She’d sterilize the equipment later tonight when the power came back on.

Becky, her sister-in-law, and Tayla, her sister, came in from the garden. “Progress?” Tayla asked.

“Some. I’m hopeful, ladies, very hopeful about the next batch.”

Becky asked, “You’re getting close to one volt aren’t you?”

Carla wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. Her eyes sparkled. “I am. This batch,” she motioned to the beakers and other gear on the sterilized towel on the counter, “was point eight.”

The women hooted and gave Carla a hug. “When will you know about the next batch?”

“I’ll let it dry another hour. In the meantime, I’ll get the next one started.” She grinned, “Don’t want to count my chickens.”

The women laughed. Carla went back to her closet.

The next day she was back in the closet. Yesterday’s batch seven hundred and twenty-three was only marginally better than seven twenty-two. “Today, sweet hearts. Give me the whole one point zero today, all right?” she whispered to the beaker and the plate on the counter in front of her. She’d spread the plate with a little of this batch this morning. It was dry, the volt meter was hooked up, her eyes were on the needle. “Come on,” she said as she tapped the metal plate.

The needle swung. She blinked, breath held. Carla tapped it again, then once more. Heart racing, she opened the closet, Tayla, was in the main room, folding blankets. Carla called out. “Look at this.”

Tayla hurried over and stood next to Carla.

“Watch the meter,” Carla told her. She tapped the plate. The needle swung over, Tayla gasped hands over her mouth.

“Do it again.”

Carla tapped again. The needle swung over, one point two volts. She turned to her sister, grinning. “You saw it, right?

Hands still over her mouth, Tayla nodded, eyes filling with tears. Her arms flew out and grabbed Carla. The two women were jumping up and down when Becky came in. “What’s going on?”

“Look,” Tayla pointed.

She hurried over and Carla tapped the plate again. Becky whooped and whirled out into the main room, spinning like a top, whooping and laughing. The others joined her. “You did it, Carla! You did it!”

All she had to do now was run to the library, where power and computers ran all day, and send in her submission to the Government’s contest for Power Generation. The rest would be history.

 

The End

994 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html