Month: July 2014

Day 5 #julywritingchallenge

So I missed a day, with all the ‘merican festivities going on procrastinating was too easy. One of the future posts will just be double length to make up for it.

I read an article about the discovery of a new potentially habitable exo-planet very similar to earth according to the Earth Similarity Index. This planet experiences all four seasons in 35 days. So I started playing with the idea of humanity making it Gliese 832c (currently it would take like 68 thousand years, our satellites are REAL slow..).

But the prompt turned out to be better than expected, I fleshed some characters out and built a bit of story structure. I’ll definitely come back to this or continue it in the coming days.

***I’ll edit this beast tomorrow, its late and life is calling**
Calls went through to machines and voice mails weren’t left. Cars were put in drive to never be driven again. Expeditions were began that never reached a destination. In seconds it happened. Water turned on at the time, overflowed sinks and flooded buildings. Nature would eventually creep back in and take what was hers, winning the game of patience. It wasn’t supposed to occur for months. But somebody flipped the switch. It always happened that way, great plans were made by paranoid men too anxious to actually pull the trigger. Then over some sundry conflict someone with power would make a mistake that others would pay for. It happened and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it, but that’s not good enough for High Chancellor Liset. His board of directors urged him to let the dead lie, albeit quietly. The last board met an unfortunate end after pushing a civil rights case too far. The two hundred and eighty six that survived the ‘Journey’ needed closure, the only way to get said closure. Liset would tell anyone stuck listening to him was to find out who initiated the teleporter.

The group of men standing before the gnarled chancellor stood in a straggled line in a mockery of attention. Their eyes were dark with stress and malnutrition, and their fatigues had clearly seen better days. Liset looked at the haggard group, all five of them had lost everything. Nobody knew why a few survived, although to call their new life survival was a joke. He pulled up a small map on his computer and pointed out where the controls were located. The Kansan missile silo had been converted to a the Jearios Resarch Project decades before, after discovering Gliese 832c in 2014. Liset droned on about the access hatches and the external security protocols that would need to be overridden.

Corporal Malas, couldn’t give two shits about any of it. This was a one way trip as far he was concerned. His eyes glazed over and he tried hard to remember the faces of his wife, and daughter. They had been vaporized in the catastrophe with everyone else. To his right Kent stood with his arms crossed and his teeth clenched tight, Liset had restricted the water to his zone and he saw first hand what happened. The lines wrapped around the towering apartment complexes normally. When Lisets water conservation plan passed the water rations of outlying zones were cut by an oz. The inner 4 zones of the city that held the large bureaucracy after all needed their 24oz each morning. To ask such esteemed members of society to give more than they already do was blasphemous. Kent saw red and silently dared Liset to meet his gaze. His anger ridden face was in stark contrast to the mousy man standing at the end of the line. His mustache still impeccably groomed considering what they had been through, he shifted his weight constantly and mumbled to himself every few minutes. Liset had rudely assured everyone that Fin had passed the med checks to participate on the mission, Fin never spoke aloud and rarely made eye contact. The group as a whole was rather pleased that the guards at the entrance door had stripped Fin of his long rifle. Jace stood on the far left next to a short man who called himself Spark. Jace was star struck, and ate up every word of Liset’s less than detailed attack plan.



Day 3 #JulyWritingChallenge

Okay I don’t have much time because life is calling, but somebody was kind enough to sit here while these words were typed.
I went with another new story. Using a painting by Zdzislaw Beksinski as inspiration. (my wordpress skills
are lacking.. But I’ll try to get the image up.)
blah blah I’m bad at punctuation, here is Day 3.

Are you sure about this? He asked slightly slurring. No worries man, Trevor took the yellow square off the Ikea coffee table with a finger and stuck it into his mouth. The stickers labeling each individual piece of the table with a letter for easy assembly had never been removed. His mind raced as he tried to reach an internal conclusion. Without thinking he set the yellow tab on his tongue and smiled at his friend. They reclined back into the hand me down couch that had been here longer than either of them. They watched a bit of a bad science fiction movie, and smoked a bowl or two. Time slipped by and the credits were rolling. The empty beer cans were stacked in a pyramid at one end of the table and a plastic sack full of stems sat forgotten on the floor.
I don’t think its going to work, its been over two hours right? Trevor yawned and decided to turn in for the night.

The guy they met at the rave had sworn that this experience would be like nothing else, they were both more than a little bummed out. He twisted in his seat and stretched out on the paisley couch. The Pink tear drop designs had alternating hexagons of every color imaginable.

He shoved his hands behind his head and thought hard about his state of mind, was something going on? It wasn’t like anything else he had tried before, his thoughts seemed too clear. But something was on the peripheral of everything kind of a blue glow. Restless and disappointed he turned back towards the couch, the hexagons he saw earlier were rotating within one anther, finally, he smiled and tried to take more of it in.

This felt like an acid trip, he would be fine he told himself. The dealer had spoken of Eagle reverently but lets face it Kyle wasn’t that spiritual. His eyes glazed over as he watched the twisting and alternating patterns in the couch, gradually he turned to gaze up at the spackled ceiling. It was a blank white canvas, so pure and clean. His mind took the liberty to paint it with kaleidoscopic images, it was like a psychedelic doily had been laid over his worldview. The canvas pulsed and shook, he fell into it, leaving his body reclining on the couch.

It became a tundra of freezing snow whipping around in every direction obscuring his vision. He shivered and heard his own consciousness speaking faintly on the wind. The constant inner monologue of thoughts that shape experiences had gone silent and all Kyle heard was white noise. He stared out into the storm, looking for the first time at the world objectively. He didn’t like what he saw. The snow began to sting his skin and get into his mouth, it wasn’t snow, but sand. Dry fine gritty sand, filled up his nostrils with every breath and coated his lips. The brilliant white was drifting up around him. Before he knew it he was buried up to the waist in the drifts. It’s embrace was warm and comforting but something urged him to look up into the sand blasted sky. Just out of reach a shifting darkness beckoned him. The grey world he stood in completely void of his personal experiences and emotions was frightening.

He needed to see more, the undulating mass in the sky was so close if he could just move towards it. With immense effort he took one step towards the darkness then another. He would touch the abyss today.



Day 2 #JulyWritingChallenge

So the challenge continues, I procrastinated like normal and put this off too long today but that nap was perfect. I originally planned to continue the story from yesterday. As I started typing tonight I had an itch for fantasy/horror so I built a world, a witch cult and a conflict to scratch it.

Punctuation isn’t my friend and rough drafts are rough, so here’s day two.

Thousands of footsteps before them had worn a trail into the rough stone, their leather padded boots slipped along the smooth surface. the plume of smoke at the foot of the mountain chased them upwards, the spreading miasma of burning memories was a constant reminder. The four of them pushed on towards the hovel they knew the witch resided in. The shack Magnus called home sat atop the brooding mountain, its frame like the piqued ear of a resting dog. Bestial mountain was only the first in the shadow range that extended north farther than any man could know. It was the frontier, their people had relied on the witch to keep them safe from the perils beyond, and for years he had. Unspeakable creatures and wondering spirits were constantly encroaching, driven by madness or some omniscient evil figure. They would wreak momentary havoc in the village until Magnus would appear, casualties were common and accepted this far from the courts. But what they had just witnessed was a massacre and there was only one man to answer for it.

The alliance with the with cult of Daker was an uneasy one at best. Daker’s witches functioned as rouge security elements, offering their services to the highest bidder. Many superstitious city-states had already banned their kind. But those bordering the shadow mountains had no choice they were constantly affronted by nature and wouldn’t have survived this long without the cult. The trio neared the top and exchanged knowing glances with one another, their faces grim and bloodstained. They drew great swords and knelt briefly, in solemn voices each recited the witch hunters oath. Their heavy armor creaked as they stood and they unanimously pulled heavy hoods over their heads. in training for the service, each hunter had heard stories of witches going mad from the powers they dealt with on a daily basis, mostly leading to some catastrophe. The monsters of the stories were fresh in their memories, each had battled and lost friends and family to the tentacled monstrosities down below. The hooded men strode confidently towards the eroded building the witch called home.

As they neared it the hairs along their arms and necks rose causing an involuntary shudder. An acrid stench came from the strewn open door. There were no windows in the building and no one had been inside. Each had met Magnus the witch, but always on his terms. This was the first time they would be calling on him. The dead smell engulfed them as they gathered around the door causing one of them to retch silently. Without hesitation Rekis pushed the ancient wooden door open and slipped inside, Jarl and Kraven followed suit. Of course Magnus knew they were coming with the atmospheric disturbances caused by the spawn down below everyone for miles knew something horrible was afoot. The Interior was lit only by sconces that burned low and flickered unnaturally. In the center of the room Magnus stood with his back towards them. His hands rested flat on an alter his head down in contemplation. He didn’t move as the trio edged closer.


hasta mañana

Day 1 #JulyWritingChallenge

So I’ve been rather addicted to ‘the’ twitter lately. If your not reading my witless tweets and rambunctious ramblings its not too late! Follow me @this_iswater. Nobody asks so I’ll have you know that ‘This is Water’ is a very eloquent speech given by David Foster Wallace about life in general. (that’s another blog post in and of itself.)  Anyways I noticed a writing challenge going on this morning and got the details. Pretty simple here, 500 words daily posted and shared with the #JulyWritingChallenge hashtag.

Well here goes day 1, I have a story in mind but its still evolving. Here’s the first glimpse at my protagonist and his place of employment. I cheated/overachieved and wrote like 590 words.. I know right?

But first, a minor disclaimer that punctuation has never been my friend, so I’m sure this rough draft is riddled with grammatical mishaps and what have yous. Forgive me or offer your editing skills, whatever. I’d just be pleased if two people read this, that’s including me so I’m going in with real low expectations. ❤

Now, without further ado..

The consistent bell sounding his intrusion was like a metronome keeping his miserable Monday on beat. Of course they hadn’t given him a security code or even told him that one would be required. Trying to arrive early to build a reputation as ‘that guy’ really paid off this time. The building was dark and lit only by the first rays of the sun coming over the horizon, floor to ceiling windows lined one wall illuminating the cubicle farms in sick morning light. Who knows where the light switches are, he began setting up his loaner laptop at his empty desk in the dark. He had stuck a photo of his girlfriend on the computer monitor but it fluttered down into the void between his desk and filing cabinet as he sat down. His pants rose too high while seated partly because he didn’t care but mostly because he couldn’t afford a new pair. Financially stretched far too thin by student debt and his less than reasonable alcohol consumption, Ed was having a bad day. He thought about the lunch he made for himself sitting at home in his A/C-less apartment. The pickle juice slowly seeping through the bread and the banana turning brown in the confines of the small knapsack he used as a lunch box. His stomach growled as loud knocking came from the back of the office. He shrugged and pushed his chair back along the ubiquitous business carpet before rising and making his way towards the banging.

As he rounded the last corner before the break room and the back door flashing red and blue lights played off the portraits of employees on the walls that were far too important for him to know. Their smiling faces sending him cheerily towards the two officers waiting outside the door. He put a smile on and pushed the door open sounding yet another alarm off in the distance, of course there was a separate alarm for the backdoor. He tried to tell two officers about his circumstances but it was too loud so he stepped out and closed the door behind him. As the latch clicked he realized his building keys were sitting next to his keyboard right where he left them. The officers were more reasonable than he expected they nodded grimly as he told them of his plight. Familiar with the situation they said ‘don’t worry about it’ and gave his short pants a disapproving nod before they sauntered back to their patrol car. Ed turned towards the tragically locked back door and tried the handle because he didn’t know what else to do, yep it was still locked.

The parking lot around him was empty, so he hunkered down on the stoop and watched the sunrise, not because he wanted to it was just so damn bright there wasn’t anything else to look at. A black BMW pulled into the parking lot and whipped into a parking spot with practiced ease. A slender man wearing a graphic t-shirt and holding a bag of frosted gas station donuts climbed out. He started walking up to the door but slowed up as he noticed Ed with his chin in hands. Ed stood and tried to make the pleasantries that this particular social situation called for but they eluded him. He stammered something about being new and locked out before he wiped the fresh sweat from his forehead and stepped away from the door. The newcomer was quite young and he reassured Ed that everything was ‘cool man’ before he held his badge up to the keypad and let them back in.

Tune in next time to see if Ed’s day ever gets better or if he gets murdered in his own cubicle.

Who knows?