FF: Plastic Doll Pageant

Flash Fiction Challenge: Five Titles Make a Challenge Another Flash Fiction for Terribleminds.com Plastic Doll Pageant     We are just about to win the 12th annual National Miss Plastic Doll Pageant, and no one suspected my doll wasn't a true artificial intelligent robot.  Since her first pageant, in 2029, my sister couldn't get enough of the stage light.  She and others like her began mutilating their bodies to find perfection.  The Humane Society, finally stepped in and put a ban on all human pageants.  However, she did not want to give up the spotlight, so we worked together for years to put everything on the line for this very moment.     At last years pageant we came very close to winning, but we had played it too safe.  Our points in the talent and artificial logic competition were not enough to get us placed in the top twenty.  This year, Suzzi and I, replaced her eyes, chin, left foot, and made adjustments to her ligaments for mobility.   We also decided that we would not use a script in the logic competition and that Suzzi would attempt it on her own.  Of course, this could have backfired and destroyed us both, but after last years scores we risked it.  Seeing her now standing among the five remaining finalists, it became worth the chance of being incarcerated for life.     The announcers voice created silence across the auditorium when he opened the first of four envelopes with his frail hands.     "Fifth place goes to..." the dramatic pause had the desired effect as everyone inhaled, "... Lily, by the Microsift company."     A brief amount of applause broke out as everyone was anxious to hear the next placement.     "Fourth place goes to..." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the announcers repeating flare.     "... Samantha, by the AVX group."     My excitement is building and stirring my legs into constant motion, we have never made it to the top five, let alone the top three.  Pacing became my comforting friend as I tried to contain myself from an outburst in these last few moments. I was envious of Suzzi's calm right now.  I peaked through the curtain towards her in hopes that she could lend me some of her confidence.  She was standing straight and tall with a hypnotic smile that showcased her perfect teeth.  She wore a full length baby blue gown with sequins flowing in rivers from top to bottom.  Her blonde wig was perfect and her blue eyes seemed distant like she was day dreaming, but it was hard to tell with her new X12P model eyes.     "Meet your second runner up, Delannie, of the Pakard family."     Focus. My rational kicked in and told me to find a mirror.  The winning team was invited on the stage with their Plastic Doll to accept the crown and place it on their dolls head.  I found a reflective surface on the back side of the fourth runner ups mechanic booth and used my fingers to comb through my hair.     "First runner up will take the place of National Miss if any complications should arise..." The announcer's voice faded during his speech on what it means to be National Miss and the honor it brings to the support team.  I've heard it all a thousand times before while watching the winning videos with my sister.  The key words captured my attention.     "Your first runner up is... National Miss contestant Veronica, of the Harvart University.  This means Suzzi, of the Peraton family is your new 12th Annual National Miss Plastic Doll."     Overwhelming sounds of cheer rolled throughout the auditorium, causing further words from the announcer and the background music to be lost within the waves. I had to take big slow steps to keep myself from tripping with excitement as I moved across the stage to join my sister.  She looked back at me as I approached and gave me an utterly human smile that lit her face with complete bliss.  I watched her step towards the announcer and took his microphone. I reached her side as she culled the audience into silence with the fanning of her hand.     "What are you doing?" I whispered in her ear.     She glanced at me and then spoke into the microphone. "I love my brother with all of my heart."     The shock in my eyes flared as I looked at everyone's face for signs that our hoax was up.  There where none, they are all in awe with my sisters apparently scripted speech and humored by what they thought was my acting ability.     Suzzi continued, "When I was just 8 years old my brother told me that I will grow to be the most beautiful woman of all."      The audience began to think and the building pressure of their silence felt like someone was sticking figures in my ear.  They understood exactly what she was trying to tell them.     "When I was 10 I had my teeth replaced and my brother still told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world.  When I was 14 and had my face reconstructed, he told me I was radiant.  When I was 18 with new hips and shoulder joints, he said I was gorgeous.  Now that I'm 38, and the most beautiful creature alive, what do you think of me now, brother?"     She handed me the microphone.  She lifted her evening gown up to her knee to reveal a holster with an ERx gun.  She pulled it out, held it to her chest, and pulled the trigger faster than anyone could react.     I caught her as she fell and heard the sound of the microphone drop on the stage floor.  I saw the light quickly fading in her eyes and found my last words to her "You are exquisite, my dear sister."   She smiled one last time.     The blood pooling on the stage confirmed our fabrication. Authorities will be here soon.  I held my sister tighter, kissed her forehead, and told her departed soul "I love you. Thank you." -------------- Feedback is desired.  I'm still learning the craft, so please let me know how bad this short piece is.

Operation Bitter Frenzy

For TerribleMinds Flash Fiction Challenge Science Fiction/Fantasy. I started this a while back on another challenge about a title generator, but I never got past the first two paragraphs. It’s a little story about a military super soldier.   Operation Bitter Frenzy The winters chill ran over my skin as I exposed my wrist watch to check the time.  I tried to shake it off, but it was of no use the goose bumps trickled up my forearm and seeped through to my bones.  “I hate the damn cold.” I muttered hoping for a sympathic ear, but there was no one around to share in my misery.  My missions are typically solo, since no one can keep up with me, however I am still connected through my tracking chip and the comm system attached to my ear. "Orion, stay focused. The patrol team should be approaching your position." Lt. TJ Hanks's voice always made me want to clear my own throat, just to see if it would make him sound less congested. I slowed my breathing and concentrated and did as I was told.  I focused my sight, smell, and hearing sense.  I wouldn't be able to use my telepathy until they are within ten feet. "I can't sense them yet, but I may be hearing them. It could be just an animal."  I doubt it. What animal would be making noise in this cold weather?  I hated the cold, but I wonder if that is my choice or if it's part of my genetic make-up.   "Hanks, I got a glimpse of the child a couple days ago.  Is it true that she can read minds farther then me?"  I was created in a lab, carried by a surrogate mom, and bread for medical research and military application.  I was to be a super soldier.  The second child like me, they named project Athena, wasn't created.  Her father had inadvertently exposed her to the same alien chemicals that ran through my body when she was eight years old.  The military took possession instantaneous and have been testing her abilities for the last year. "They are preparing her to move her to a separate location.  We don't want all our eggs in one basket." "But is it true?" I wasn't going to let up.  My abilities have been stable for 5 years now.  We suspect I have reached my highest achievable strength.  I stopped having seizures.  My body is able to repair all minor damage and most critical issues, but if I took direct damage to the brain, it would be lights out for me.   I experienced a great deal of pain over the years while learning what I am capable of.  I honestly didn't want the government to create another me, but now that Athena is here, I'm glad that I'm not alone.  "Yes, but only by another twelve to thirteen inches." I could make out the sound of boots pressing into new snow. "I hear them approaching from the south.  Intel was right for a change, they deviate their surveillance routes.  Lets hope they are also correct about the timing." "Let them pass, then start your timer, and go steal us some highly sought after secrets boy." "I'm older then you Hank." I hated it when he called me boy.  "Not when it comes to perception. Now focus and check in once you are inside." It's true, I looked 15, when I'm actual 38.  Self repairing does wonders for the appearance. The security team passed and I was off, using my speed and dexterity to move quickly down the icy slop while covering my tracks.  I reached the alcove by the side entrance within three minutes.  The next part of the plan is to push security into opening the access door.  I hated pushing, it always left me with a headache and a dry mouth.  Thank god Athena hasn't shown any signs of this ability.  As much as the government liked it, it wasn't easy and it had costs.  In the early testing days I had several migraines for two weeks, almost forgot took a life when I linked while they were eating, and turned a man into a vegetable. Finding the closest guard was the easy part.  Reading that he has the teen 'Call Me Maybe' song stuck in his head, I had to refrain myself from laughing out loud, was also easy.  But pushing was the ability that I struggled with the most. The movies had it all wrong.  It wasn't squint your eyes, wave your hand, and speak the desired command.  Pushing require a commitment to the host's body and a persistent connection.   I tried explaining it to the scientists as drawing a line between two points, pushing an freight train down that line to break through at the other end, and then lifting heavy objects to get what you want.  At the host end every action came came with a 40 pound weight, but I gain access to all speech, hearing, vision, and motor control.  I peered through my hosts eyes, found the door buzzer, and pressed it. Moving my own body during the connection was twice as difficult as controlling the host, but I had to be quick to open the door and slip passed the hall security camera.  This was a stealth mission and I couldn't get caught, on tape or in person.  Not that they could hold me if they did catch me. I used the guards eyes to find the screen showing the hall camera and time the interval between panning and camera change.  Six seconds is plenty of time.  I rolled my body through the entrance hallway and into the security room.  I could feel my body melt from across the link, I was happy to be out of the cold. Releasing the link was the difficult task of the entire process.  Once I disconnected from the host and was back on the line, it had a tendency to snap away throwing me back into my body with force.  I positioned the guard away from my body and emptied the ammo from his side arm.  Later he'll just blame old age for forgetting why he did that. "I'm in."  No response. "Hanks, I'm in." "Hanks!"  the static noise clicked on, indicating they were still on the line. "Orion," Hanks voice was fighting with shouted orders in the background, "there has been an explosion at HQ. Abort your mission and ..." "Hanks?" I pressed my comm piece into my ear "Hanks, I didn't get that last transmission.  Abort and what?" The line was gone. What had just happened?  I dropped the connection with the guard, stood up from my position, and walked out the door.  Letting my adrenaline and anger help me through the pain in my head, I bolted at the entrance door breaking it from it's hinges and shattering the one way glass window across my path. "Hanks, I'm on my way.  Do you copy?  I'm on my way."

Online Social Writers Are My Mentors

As you know from my previous post I frequently visit Terribleminds.com for writing motivation.  Last Friday (June 29th) Chuck posted up another flash fiction challenge.   This time his challenge was another simple one that I had time to contribute on.  He asked for a three sentence story kept under 100 words.   Chuck would then pick his three favorites and send the winners a copy of his recent book 500 Ways To Tell A Better Story.  I took a moment or two and came up with the following submission. With only my uneventful life of selfishness, I found myself at hell’s door. Floating in the darkness I tried to push through the weight of my collapsing world in order to collect just one thought before there were none left. “Why?” Six days after reading the 143 submissions, I feel completely “schooled” in the art of writing.  When I wrote my little story I thought it was a good piece and was hoping it was good enough to win, but now I think it is lacking creativity, plot, character connection, and more.  I learned so much by reading the contributions, that I now know my three sentence story is not a winner.   I decided to pick the top three from the submission and pick apart why I think they are so wonderful and where I was lacking.   First up: Barbara Engel The man stood on the dock in the sun and the smoke of his lit cigarette curled gently over his hand as he watched the emergency rescue team lift his son from the water. The sucess of his career hung about his shoulders in the form of a flawlessly tailored suit with bejewled cufflinks and diamond tie pin, but his face was ragged with loss. “I am a poor man.” he said. I enjoyed this, because it had a specific character.  In mine you couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, for all the reader knew it could be a talking animal that was at deaths door.   The only characteristic I gave him/her was that they were selfish.  Just one trait, when in reality we have an abundance of mannerisms, traits, quarks, habits, and more.  I am skipping over the two typo’s for sucess and bejewled, as they aren’t important towards my growth, but I didn’t want my readers to come back and point them out.  Barbara also captured emotion with a facial expression.   My little story has only one emotion and it was only expressed in a spoken word.  Confusion of why this would happen to the man/woman/animal. What I learned from Barbara: Build a better defined character. Connect the main character and the reader with emotion.   Second: Caleb Herman I woke up in hell; a dark and shapeless place, where memory and pain run together into a cocktail that tastes like blood and motor oil. I heard her voice; she said she wanted me to come back; she pleaded, screamed and sobbed for me, the last thing I heard her say was “I’m sorry”. I had to get up; I ripped and clawed at the edges of that hell, trying to find something real I could hang onto; anything to pull myself out, then I felt her hand in mine, my eyes opened and I saw her say… “Daddy”. Caleb’s short story was filled with sensational details (I would hope that he is one of the top three).  His story is similar to mine in that it is about death, but he has details and the FIGHT to draw a reader through.  He has filled his entire story with sensation using taste, sight, sound, and touch.  Missing only smell.  My story has no connection to senses, nothing that made anything seam plausible or substantial.  Mr. Herman also included drive and power into his story by having the daughter’s fight to encourage her father, which led to him fighting to come back to her. What I learned from Caleb: Add connections to senses, make it tangible. Include motivation.   Third: Tony Southcotte The housebot analyzed the patch data, detailing her new emotional output and sensual capabilities. The first feeling of excitement fluttered through her system. The second, dread, as her salivating owner undid his belt buckle. Tony shows creativity and simplicity.  Simplicity is what I was striving for.  Not something that was over the top or that could be misunderstood for a partial story.  My story is simple, but missing so much detail to give it motion.  Mine is simple, boring, and pointless.  The second piece about Tony's story that caught my attention was the creativity he put into it.   Now some of you may say that it's not very creative, that robots have been misused and abused since their conception.  What Tony did was show me how disturbed the housebot's owner is to have patched the bot with emotions so that he could inspire dread and fear.  A tweak there, changes the story completely.  Consider the story again without the emotion patch and I think you'd draw a conclusion that the owner was just a lonely pervert.   With the patch adding human emotion to the story--he becomes a very sick and messed up *bad word here*.  I am definitely lacking creativity. What I learned from Tony: Simple is good as long as it's rounded. Be creative.   Thank you Thank you to all those writers who contribute online and help mentor other want-to-be writers. Rewrite Taking what I've learned from the above submissions and others from the challenge I am rewriting my three sentence story. I found myself floating down towards the ash covered iron gates of Hell with only the memory of my existence slowly fading behind me. Knowing that if I touched the opaque ground I would be trapped; due to pay the price for my selfishness, however my struggling did not delay the pulling assent. I searched my mind for a reason that would release me from my fate; if my father had stuck around, if Sheila stayed away from other men, if only I had more time, but time was almost gone and I had one thought left, why me. Better? Thoughts?

FF: 1WEEK5WORDS #1

This is our new Flash Fiction challenge, inspired by Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge.  I encourage everyone to join me in creating flash fictions.  In one week, Monday Noon EST to Monday Noon EST, we will write five 200 word (or less) short fictional story based on each of the five random words below.  These words are created using a random word generator Creative Random Word Generator – 5 Random Words.  This should only take about 10-15 minutes out of your day, but it will help kick start your creativity.  I’m asking everyone to join in, even if you are very young or not interested in being a writer, you can still be creative.  Try not to go over 200 words and keep the random word prominent in your story. 5 Random Words: scaffold necklace briefcase cactus guide My 200 word stories will be included in the body of this post throughout the week.  Please add yours to the comments of this post.  If you have a Twitter account then use the hash tag of #1Week5Words to signal that you’ve completed one short.  Unfortunately, there will be no prizes or winners for this challenge.  Everyone who contributes the five stories is an automatic winner!  Those who try, by creating one or two stories, are winners too.  However, they are just not as cool as those who complete the challenge.  No judgments here, just creativity and motivation to write. Scaffold Little Eleanor clung tightly to the scaffold outside their small China Town apartment in hopes that the consuming fires within the building wouldn’t force her to move.  Her knuckles turned from yellow to white while holding onto her pole.  Boom! Eleanor screeched and tried to move away from the window that had just exploded three feet away.  The debris flew out across the scaffolding and onto the street below.  A fiery splinter from the windows frame landed on the other end of her plank.  It burned into the wooden beam and the fire started too crept towards her tauntingly.  Eleanor moved as far as she could away from the heat and looked around for any hope of escape. “Hold on to me.” She looked around to see a masked woman dressed in black, floating in the sky, with her hands stretched out. “It’s going to be alright.” Eleanor nodded and released her death grip on the scaffolding.  The stranger carefully picked her up and took her slowly to safety. “My parents are still in there.” The little girl pointed up to the burning building. “Can you help them?”  “I will try.” Briefcase (a little dark) Movies frequently showcase explosive devices within briefcases.  Looking at it I guess it is really about mobility.  The other three bombs were wrapped in brown delivery boxes that I had carefully planted around Central Park.   The park officials had installed several new camera in attempt to catch me.  Just yesterday they announced to the public that the park was officially closed, not that anyone was actually visiting anymore.   I had made sure of that when I killing four people.   They didn’t understand.  I had no choice, the area needed to be cleared out for tonight’s visitors.  The alien aircraft should be entering the atmosphere soon.  I just needed to delay the SWAT team that now surrounded me.   The thumb trigger should keep them from shooting, but to bad I didn’t bring ear plugs to protect myself from their shouting.  It was the typical words. “Get down on the ground.”  “Put your hands behind your head.”   Crack… They’re here. I looked up to see a large cloud cover over our heads.  It was filled with glowing lights of red and yellow.  It’s time for my last explosive.  “Goodbye, you torturous animals!”  Click.

My Introduction to Flash Fiction

Being new to NaNoWriMo means I’m also new to the fans, other writers, and motivational resources. In my social interaction I came across a website titled Terribleminds. This guy tells it like he sees it and doesn’t hold back the profanity. I like him and will most likely check in on his blog for years to come. He recently put out a challenge for a 100 word flash fictions with a focus on the writers choice of using one of these five words; frog, powder, seagull, tower, and scissors. I thought, why not, and gave it a try. I quickly picked a word and went to town. I’ve never written flash fiction before, but doing this challenge enlightened my day, so I did more the next day and then the day after that. I did this until all five words were used; the last entry was Black Friday morning. Mr. Chuck Wendig, author of terribleminds.com, offered up a winning prize for what he believes is the best one. I would be thrilled if one of my five made it, but I wouldn’t be a bit sad if they didn’t. [More]