This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
....
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Excerpt from crossover fanfiction..
A/n: I was moving for the past week, and am now finally settled in my new location.
Will get back on schedule now and get to it, hammering out my pieces for this personal challenge.
Thanks, plotroach, for your understanding of my completely lazy sluggishness and lack of writing drive. The move was indeed tougher than I imagined, as I, too, am very much a packrat.
In the meantime, in a rush of frustrated boredom, I managed to complete my hp/dr.who fanfiction! It's rare occurrance in the genre, I know.
It can be found at fanfiction.net
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6439706/1/Merlins_Beard
--oooo---
Severus heard a roar the sounded suspiciously dragon-like. With pained look and a wince, the Doctor, too, glanced to the beast rampaging about the Gringrotts building.
With some disappointment, Severus saw that the beast responsible was certainly no dragon. He knew that the Doctor always wanted to see.
A.
Dragon.
Wait. Why did he care what the Doctor wanted..?
"It won't be pleasant to be swallowed, but there's little choice now...this thing just won't stay still nearly long enough. Once the type 2 perception filter is out, please, for your world's sake, break it."
"Break it?" Severus bristled at the strong suggestion which was really a couched order.
"Stomp on it. Hit it with a hammer. Whatever it takes. That's the only way to stop the signal."
"All this for something that..fragile?"
"Right. They're rare for a good reason."
"You must spend much of your time with Muggles to think so much like one, Doctor." Severus said. Just.
What did the Doctor do to him?
"Accio bait!"
The mess of wires and metal plates jumped out of the Doctor's grasp, and into Severus's arms. He then broomlessly flew out of the company of the Doctor, easily dodging the swiping of the many vines.
Far below, he heard the Doctor's grin.
"Fantastic..!"
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Will get back on schedule now and get to it, hammering out my pieces for this personal challenge.
Thanks, plotroach, for your understanding of my completely lazy sluggishness and lack of writing drive. The move was indeed tougher than I imagined, as I, too, am very much a packrat.
In the meantime, in a rush of frustrated boredom, I managed to complete my hp/dr.who fanfiction! It's rare occurrance in the genre, I know.
It can be found at fanfiction.net
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6439706/1/Merlins_Beard
--oooo---
Severus heard a roar the sounded suspiciously dragon-like. With pained look and a wince, the Doctor, too, glanced to the beast rampaging about the Gringrotts building.
With some disappointment, Severus saw that the beast responsible was certainly no dragon. He knew that the Doctor always wanted to see.
A.
Dragon.
Wait. Why did he care what the Doctor wanted..?
"It won't be pleasant to be swallowed, but there's little choice now...this thing just won't stay still nearly long enough. Once the type 2 perception filter is out, please, for your world's sake, break it."
"Break it?" Severus bristled at the strong suggestion which was really a couched order.
"Stomp on it. Hit it with a hammer. Whatever it takes. That's the only way to stop the signal."
"All this for something that..fragile?"
"Right. They're rare for a good reason."
"You must spend much of your time with Muggles to think so much like one, Doctor." Severus said. Just.
What did the Doctor do to him?
"Accio bait!"
The mess of wires and metal plates jumped out of the Doctor's grasp, and into Severus's arms. He then broomlessly flew out of the company of the Doctor, easily dodging the swiping of the many vines.
Far below, he heard the Doctor's grin.
"Fantastic..!"
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Fanfiction crossover excerpt
A/n: Instead of writing my own work today, I worked on my doctor who - harry potter crossover fanfiction. Titled "Merlin's Beard!", it's nearing completion, and can be found at fanfiction.net.
Enjoy!
---ooo---
The leather clad man's arms were crossed, and he often glared angrily about him with his piercing sharp eyes as he strode down the muggle choked street in London proper. The woman, blond and quite pretty, walked by his side, looking about with interest and open curiosity.
Dumbledore stealthily followed the pair, though it was certainly a difficult magical feat with so many muggles about. He silently observed and missed nothing of the leather clad man's behavior. Nor the woman's, who was called "Rose".
As they made their way within the vegetation laden area, the Doctor deftly weaved and lead Rose about the street in nearly a dance, much like he had done with Severus and himself within Diagon Alley several hours earlier.
Before long, they dove into a dark narrow crevice of an alley way just across the street from curiously clean pub which served as the entrance to the wizarding world.
"Rose, Listen to me and do what I say. I want you to wait for me inside that pub."
"Wha' pub..?"
The Doctor pointed the way with a sharp nod.
"That.. The Leaky Cauldron."
Rose looked about her like Dumbledore had seen Muggles do often enough, in bewilderment as they searched the street for the sign they couldn't see. Surprisingly, the confusion lasted but a moment.
"Oh. Right." Rose said, and looked directly at the pub that served at the entrance to the wizarding world. "Wait. If you're making bait, um, what're you gonna do? With it I mean?"
"Draw it out of course." The Doctor said.
"Here?" Rose demanded. "The street's full of people.."
Rose glanced over at a staggering once-man with a face covered in green fuzz."Well they WERE people, but there's probably plenty o' others who're still...not green."
She looked back at the Doctor, and Dumbledore saw the man scowl.
"I'm trying to save this planet, filled with no less than 6 billion stupid apes-- no offense-- from being devoured by this vicious guardian plant. I hope not to do it, but one city on this rock is.. "
"It's just a plant." Rose protested, and looked down a moment. Then took a breath. "C-can't you find a place that's a little less crowded than this to draw..."
"Just a..! I'll have you know this.. plant.. was created and used extensively in the last Great Time War against my people. I have no idea how it of all things got out of the time lock. And if that's not enough to do, there's also stopping an invasion by Judoon from happening.."
"Wait...! Uh.. Judoon?"
"Mercenaries. They'll be here as soon as they manage to detect that type 2 perception filter's energy signature. It's rare enough now that clause 374 of the Shadow Proclamation will be immediately invoked, and trust me when I say the last thing you lot need is to have them here right now blasting things to bits, killing, enslaving, while the platoons look about for it. This planet is barely a class five, but it'll all be a completely legal action."
Dumbledore struggled to listen as he eased himself by a particularly large patch of the strange green plant. High above him, within the thick weaving of vines was a flashing light. It strongly reminded him of the sort that had been placed upon a kind of box used by Muggle authorities decades prior.
Before he could ponder that much, a wriggling tendril of the plant reached in his direction. He ducked a swiping plant life, back creaking in protest as he narrowly missed the thorns; however, they did manage to snag on his heavily disguised beard.
He freed himself easily, with a greasy unspoken spell upon his own hair; The strange plant seem non-the-wiser of its escaped prey.
One hand cupped at his aching back, he decided then to leave further observations of the Doctor to younger wizards. As he turned in place to apparate away, intending to get treatment for his injury, he could not help but look over at the two crouched companionly in the dark alley.
He supposed that the young woman called Rose wasn't quite as "Muggle" as she looked.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Saturday, February 19, 2011
A pocketful of radiation
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
Friday, February 18, 2011
Foo-dog
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Techical difficulties..
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Neglectful silence
Decided to build upon my own redneck universe which I sort of started with that "murdering horde" piece.
Enjoy!
--oh, and Happy Valentine's Day!
--ooo--
Spade Criminy furrowed his brow, and looked again to Mrs. Smith's reference sheet.
Alone amongst clumps of overgrown greenery, just past the dirt road, 333 sagged at the top of the hill.
Spade glanced at the wide windows as he approached, but decided that they were far too dirty to see what was contained within the place. He clomped up the decaying wooden steps to the porch cluttered with broken crates, dozens of paper plates, chipped mud encrusted dishes, stale cat food, and in the corner, an old metal school desk designed for a small child. He eased open the lone rotting door with the toe of his boot.
He grimmaced as it creaked eerily on its way, the sound was just enough to make the goosebumps rise on his arms. He tilted his head and looked through the crack into the darkened interior.
Dust danced in weak sunbeams and covered the floors and counter tops. Cobwebs draped thickly down from the soot scorched ceiling, and all the walls were dingy with clinging dirt.
"Hello, anyone here?"
Neglectful silence replied.
His sharp eyes darted up at the rafters above him, to the thick webs reaching for the earth. To the buzzing insects and mostly hidden bird nests.
And he smiled widely.
His decision not to hire the prospective housekeeper for himself was an easy one to make. The next step, however, would be a tricky one to accomplish in the time that he had before the court proceeding began.
He would indeed recommend Mrs. Smith's superb housekeeping services to his ex-wife.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Enjoy!
--oh, and Happy Valentine's Day!
--ooo--
Spade Criminy furrowed his brow, and looked again to Mrs. Smith's reference sheet.
Alone amongst clumps of overgrown greenery, just past the dirt road, 333 sagged at the top of the hill.
Spade glanced at the wide windows as he approached, but decided that they were far too dirty to see what was contained within the place. He clomped up the decaying wooden steps to the porch cluttered with broken crates, dozens of paper plates, chipped mud encrusted dishes, stale cat food, and in the corner, an old metal school desk designed for a small child. He eased open the lone rotting door with the toe of his boot.
He grimmaced as it creaked eerily on its way, the sound was just enough to make the goosebumps rise on his arms. He tilted his head and looked through the crack into the darkened interior.
Dust danced in weak sunbeams and covered the floors and counter tops. Cobwebs draped thickly down from the soot scorched ceiling, and all the walls were dingy with clinging dirt.
"Hello, anyone here?"
Neglectful silence replied.
His sharp eyes darted up at the rafters above him, to the thick webs reaching for the earth. To the buzzing insects and mostly hidden bird nests.
And he smiled widely.
His decision not to hire the prospective housekeeper for himself was an easy one to make. The next step, however, would be a tricky one to accomplish in the time that he had before the court proceeding began.
He would indeed recommend Mrs. Smith's superb housekeeping services to his ex-wife.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Monday, February 14, 2011
Andrea's alien
Not every day is going to be fruitful.
This was a day in which I just had to really scrape within myself to get something down on paper. Since I had a case of the "blahs", I decided to focus on descriptions rather than much of a plot. It's a shame too. Plot-roach provided a really great open ended prompt.
Prompt:
Andrea's alien.
---ooo---
The suited man stumbled to a stop on the crowded sidewalk, narrowly missing stepping on the heels to those before him. He didn't expect an answer from anyone around him, as the street was certainly too noisy, but by long habit he could not help but swear aloud.
"What the hell..?"
He glimpsed a young man dressed in a thin green t-shirt with the word "Andrea" in scrawled white across narrow shoulders, who had stopped and, for some reason, squinted upwards. The bald head sported an incredble amount of metal bits from the ears on up, all of which were rather pointy sharp and made the suited man inwardly cringe at the pain they must have caused.
A fat lady stood next to the youth. She was smartly dressed in a pink monstrosity of a pant suit, and her neat coif did not move at all as she tentively gaped at the sky as well. The suited man was about to do the same, (partly to see just what the duo found interesting enough to stop walking, and partly to judge if it would be a something best to be avoided), when he heard the faint voice of the woman say,
"Sorry Axrat. I don't see it."
The suited man took a deep breath and scrambled around them, intent on his own business of the day.
He then saw the youth's face crumble, weighted down with disappointment.
A block down, he gave them no more thought.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
This was a day in which I just had to really scrape within myself to get something down on paper. Since I had a case of the "blahs", I decided to focus on descriptions rather than much of a plot. It's a shame too. Plot-roach provided a really great open ended prompt.
Prompt:
Andrea's alien.
---ooo---
The suited man stumbled to a stop on the crowded sidewalk, narrowly missing stepping on the heels to those before him. He didn't expect an answer from anyone around him, as the street was certainly too noisy, but by long habit he could not help but swear aloud.
"What the hell..?"
He glimpsed a young man dressed in a thin green t-shirt with the word "Andrea" in scrawled white across narrow shoulders, who had stopped and, for some reason, squinted upwards. The bald head sported an incredble amount of metal bits from the ears on up, all of which were rather pointy sharp and made the suited man inwardly cringe at the pain they must have caused.
A fat lady stood next to the youth. She was smartly dressed in a pink monstrosity of a pant suit, and her neat coif did not move at all as she tentively gaped at the sky as well. The suited man was about to do the same, (partly to see just what the duo found interesting enough to stop walking, and partly to judge if it would be a something best to be avoided), when he heard the faint voice of the woman say,
"Sorry Axrat. I don't see it."
The suited man took a deep breath and scrambled around them, intent on his own business of the day.
He then saw the youth's face crumble, weighted down with disappointment.
A block down, he gave them no more thought.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Plastic pink flamingos
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
Saturday, February 12, 2011
troll in the closet
Eh. This is more of a drabble than a story.
Prompt:
troll in the closet
---oooo---
It was his duty in the village to serve for this month, but Snedrick never really liked funerals. Wearing itchy formal suits over his armor and enduring the endless marching, which always made his knives poke him in the oddest of places, ruined the entire experience for him. Just now, in fact, the handle of the knife in his boot shifted to pinch the back of his shin.
By long held tradition since the Fall, all six box bearers were supposed to be armed.
Before he could kick the pointy pit into a more comfortable position for him to take another step, the lead pallbearer, a rather portly man with a bald shiny head, hissed a warning. It was formal: The one which told all six of them to be at the ready for fighting.
Exactly how it was supposed to happen when he was helping to carry a pine box, Snedrick was at a loss to say. Snedrick supposed "fighting" was something of a vague notion to the current king, much less the original king who began the tradition in the first place.
The reason for the warning was because they were, supposedly, about to be very vulnerable to an ambush attack: They were near the grave site in which the old man they were carrying would be buried.
The lead slapped his free hand upon the box with a satisfying thump. It was the traditional signal. As one, they eased the heavy awkward box down into the earthen hole.
"That'll do!" The bald man said sharply. As one, they were supposed to climb out, draw their weapons, and be at the top to stand warily on guard. It was something they practiced to often it was as easy to do a breathing.
Usually.
This time, Snedrick tripped on a dirt clot, and the knife in his boot bit into his fleshy heel. With the flash of pain for inspiration, he decided that some traditions were quite stupid to follow.
"Why are we still doing this..!" He demanded loudly after shouting some choice gutter worthy words.
"Shh..!" The lead man said.
"There haven't been any troll sightings for years. For heavens sake..! Why are we still..?"
"I said quiet!" The lead man scolded.
Snedrick scowled at the tone, and as he climbed sullenly out of the grave, he would have kicked a stone down into the pit, but instead noticed the sound of some animal growling in the distance.
"You hear that..?" the lead man said grimly. Spread out."
Snedrick rolled his eyes, fully believing that the noise was just some wild dog gnawing a bone.
The lead man turned and regarded man with the shovel, who had frozen from his labors.
As he went through the stupid motions of being "on guard", Snedrick sneered as he thought the simpleton was probably recalling the many gory stories of what happened with anyone's the last encounter with a troll. That unfortunate person had lived well over a hundred years ago, and there hadn't been much left of the body to bury.
Trolls were allegedly voracious eaters.
"You. Hurry." The lead man snapped. "Continue with your task."
The shovel wielding man nodded solemnly, understanding his job was the sole key to keeping the remains undisturbed from any wild predator.
Not just trolls.
Satisfied, the lead then had them find the source of the sound. Snedrick smirked. This involved a lot of walking about the wastes, which was something he really didn't mind.
Along the way Snedrick noticed a number of graves had been dug up. The sturdy wooden boxes broken asunder as though they were thin as egg shells by...
.. A club? Or. Maybe a large boulder?
He looked them over owlishly as his fellow box luggers muttered their own theories amongst themselves.
"Classic.." The lead man declared, and pointed to the darker patch of earth on the ground. "Whatever dug up the graves' covered in dirt. We got a trail."
Snedrick could see that plain enough: The fresh grave soil was much darker than the rest of the barren earth found in the city of the dead. The surprising trail was quite easy to follow.
It lead to what appeared to be the remains of a freestanding wall. Guttural growls and suspicious whimpers emanated from the ancient structure. Snedrick noticed a set of stairs the lead up to nothing, which meant..there was room for something beneath.
One of his fellows called out that he had found what looked like a door. There was even a metal handle intact. The overpowering stench of rot flooded his nose, choking his breaths before he could make them.
Please... Let it be a bear. It has to be a bear.
But a tiny voice in his head poised a question he couldn't dismiss: how could a bear even open a door, much close it?
"Looks like some one has to open it."
"Let the green horn do it."
"Hell no. No way am I letting myself get all bitten up by who knows what..."
"Then move faster." The lead drolled. "Than usual that is."
"Shut it. I'm not THAT ba.."
"I'll do it." Snedrick interrupted, surprised at the quaking fear in his own voice. He cleared his throat, swallowed, then began again. "I'll open the damn door."
"Ok. There.. " The lead man set himself and drew his sword. He glanced at the others. Snedrick could help but notice the "greenhorn" hiding behind what remained of the ruined wall. "At the ready..?"
Snedrick gripped the handle, nodded, and glanced to the lead. The bald head bobbed, and Snedrick tugged back...
His eyes glimpsed a great two legged thing, twice as tall as any man, lunge out from the darkness-- great misshapen hands clawed blindly at anything nearby. His mind froze, and he narrowly escaped a sweep by the sheer luck of being crouched too low.
The wall above him wasn't so lucky. It crumbled from the strike, and he ducked as his back was pelted with rocks.
Snedrick heard another man swear loudly and cock his gun. The sudden thunder of the gun stole the sound from him, and he owlishly watched the thing spit out an entire bloody femur as if it were but a toothpick--
--And then next moment, he realized that was all that remained of the lead.
Snedrick gripped his longest knife a bit tighter, and swallowed his bile.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Prompt:
troll in the closet
---oooo---
It was his duty in the village to serve for this month, but Snedrick never really liked funerals. Wearing itchy formal suits over his armor and enduring the endless marching, which always made his knives poke him in the oddest of places, ruined the entire experience for him. Just now, in fact, the handle of the knife in his boot shifted to pinch the back of his shin.
By long held tradition since the Fall, all six box bearers were supposed to be armed.
Before he could kick the pointy pit into a more comfortable position for him to take another step, the lead pallbearer, a rather portly man with a bald shiny head, hissed a warning. It was formal: The one which told all six of them to be at the ready for fighting.
Exactly how it was supposed to happen when he was helping to carry a pine box, Snedrick was at a loss to say. Snedrick supposed "fighting" was something of a vague notion to the current king, much less the original king who began the tradition in the first place.
The reason for the warning was because they were, supposedly, about to be very vulnerable to an ambush attack: They were near the grave site in which the old man they were carrying would be buried.
The lead slapped his free hand upon the box with a satisfying thump. It was the traditional signal. As one, they eased the heavy awkward box down into the earthen hole.
"That'll do!" The bald man said sharply. As one, they were supposed to climb out, draw their weapons, and be at the top to stand warily on guard. It was something they practiced to often it was as easy to do a breathing.
Usually.
This time, Snedrick tripped on a dirt clot, and the knife in his boot bit into his fleshy heel. With the flash of pain for inspiration, he decided that some traditions were quite stupid to follow.
"Why are we still doing this..!" He demanded loudly after shouting some choice gutter worthy words.
"Shh..!" The lead man said.
"There haven't been any troll sightings for years. For heavens sake..! Why are we still..?"
"I said quiet!" The lead man scolded.
Snedrick scowled at the tone, and as he climbed sullenly out of the grave, he would have kicked a stone down into the pit, but instead noticed the sound of some animal growling in the distance.
"You hear that..?" the lead man said grimly. Spread out."
Snedrick rolled his eyes, fully believing that the noise was just some wild dog gnawing a bone.
The lead man turned and regarded man with the shovel, who had frozen from his labors.
As he went through the stupid motions of being "on guard", Snedrick sneered as he thought the simpleton was probably recalling the many gory stories of what happened with anyone's the last encounter with a troll. That unfortunate person had lived well over a hundred years ago, and there hadn't been much left of the body to bury.
Trolls were allegedly voracious eaters.
"You. Hurry." The lead man snapped. "Continue with your task."
The shovel wielding man nodded solemnly, understanding his job was the sole key to keeping the remains undisturbed from any wild predator.
Not just trolls.
Satisfied, the lead then had them find the source of the sound. Snedrick smirked. This involved a lot of walking about the wastes, which was something he really didn't mind.
Along the way Snedrick noticed a number of graves had been dug up. The sturdy wooden boxes broken asunder as though they were thin as egg shells by...
.. A club? Or. Maybe a large boulder?
He looked them over owlishly as his fellow box luggers muttered their own theories amongst themselves.
"Classic.." The lead man declared, and pointed to the darker patch of earth on the ground. "Whatever dug up the graves' covered in dirt. We got a trail."
Snedrick could see that plain enough: The fresh grave soil was much darker than the rest of the barren earth found in the city of the dead. The surprising trail was quite easy to follow.
It lead to what appeared to be the remains of a freestanding wall. Guttural growls and suspicious whimpers emanated from the ancient structure. Snedrick noticed a set of stairs the lead up to nothing, which meant..there was room for something beneath.
One of his fellows called out that he had found what looked like a door. There was even a metal handle intact. The overpowering stench of rot flooded his nose, choking his breaths before he could make them.
Please... Let it be a bear. It has to be a bear.
But a tiny voice in his head poised a question he couldn't dismiss: how could a bear even open a door, much close it?
"Looks like some one has to open it."
"Let the green horn do it."
"Hell no. No way am I letting myself get all bitten up by who knows what..."
"Then move faster." The lead drolled. "Than usual that is."
"Shut it. I'm not THAT ba.."
"I'll do it." Snedrick interrupted, surprised at the quaking fear in his own voice. He cleared his throat, swallowed, then began again. "I'll open the damn door."
"Ok. There.. " The lead man set himself and drew his sword. He glanced at the others. Snedrick could help but notice the "greenhorn" hiding behind what remained of the ruined wall. "At the ready..?"
Snedrick gripped the handle, nodded, and glanced to the lead. The bald head bobbed, and Snedrick tugged back...
His eyes glimpsed a great two legged thing, twice as tall as any man, lunge out from the darkness-- great misshapen hands clawed blindly at anything nearby. His mind froze, and he narrowly escaped a sweep by the sheer luck of being crouched too low.
The wall above him wasn't so lucky. It crumbled from the strike, and he ducked as his back was pelted with rocks.
Snedrick heard another man swear loudly and cock his gun. The sudden thunder of the gun stole the sound from him, and he owlishly watched the thing spit out an entire bloody femur as if it were but a toothpick--
--And then next moment, he realized that was all that remained of the lead.
Snedrick gripped his longest knife a bit tighter, and swallowed his bile.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, February 11, 2011
yandex, the wall which barely helped
Yandex, the wall which barely helped
---OOO---
The snow was thick and muffled his footsteps as he ran through the woods. It wasn't enough to hide his presence. By the staccato of many somethings striking solidly against the trees, some just by his head, he had in no way lost his pursuers.
He dove to the side and rolled, keeping a careful hold of the package strapped to his front and beneath his parka.
They were a certainly a persistent bunch.
On paper, it was simple enough. Break in, grab the package, then leave before anyone was the wiser. He managed trudging through the snow silently just fine; it was his specialty after all.
The package itself was had been placed in a quiet, isolated house deep in the mountains. From a distance, it looked easy to break into, and it was.
It was the leaving that was the real problem.
He dove and weaved again, taking advantage a puff of snow to reverse his direction. Then purposely slipped and ducked low. If he held still and allowed the white of the furred parka blend in with the surrounding snow, maybe he could give them the slip. He panted as softly as he could, and reached his gloved fingers up the few inches to his front. He glanced down, using the spare moments his ploy allowed him to check the package's welfare.
He saw cheeks in a rosy hue, and felt the warm breath. The little round nose wrinkled in some irritation, but the lids covering the eyes of the babe were as tightly closed as its tiny fists. The package was fine and still sound asleep.
A twig broke and echoed throughout the frigid air. Such sounds were most difficult for anyone to judge the origins of. He flicked his eyes about without moving, and held his breath.
Just. How close were they?
On instinct, he jerked aside: the unseen arrow just nicked his cheek before it thunked solidly into the last trunk of the corpse.
The drifts were deeper from this point on. He was caught in a breathless race to the checkpoint, and there was no more cover for him to hide in.
Arrows vanished into the snow about him, vanishing in the ever deeper drifts. The snow was irresistibly slowing his forward momentum, and his only comfort was that it was doing the same to his pursuers. He was out of breath when he tripped over some hidden rock..
Then to his dismay discovered it wasn't quite a rock at all.
He fell into a deep deep drift. It was well over his head in depth.
He did manage to land very hard on his back. He supposed it was the sudden jolt from the landing that caused the baby to cry out-- very loud and shrillily.
There was a good reason why his pursuers were choosing use the old hunting arrows to try to end his life, even though guns certainly would be far more efficient. In these mountains, at this time of year, loud noise of any sort was not a good idea. Not with such a thick snow pack looming high above them.
The sound of a screaming baby was followed quickly by a bone rattling rumble that overwhelmed him. A stomach dropping heartbeat later, all light was blotted out.
He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. He wasn't certain how long he stared at the balckness until he realized the sound he was hearing was his own panicked breaths. The incessant static from the ear piece, which remained deep in his ear, ended abruptly with a loud click.
"Is the package secure, over?" A tinny voice demanded.
Somehow. Somehow, he still breathed. If he was right, he had been caught in an avalanche and he still breathed. He felt a wall to one side, and half-scooted, half packed the snow around himself. Soon, he had just enough room to struggle with sitting up.
When he had the back of his head leaning against the wall, the baby let him know of it's displeasure rather loudly. He scowled and pressed his half-frozen finger to the ear piece.
"Package is fine. And so am I. Thanks for asking."
"What's your twenty?"
"No idea." He said, and gently patted his front, hoping to comfort the screaming baby. He the reached to his belt and drew out a flashlight.
His flicked it on and was nearly blinded by the sudden brightness. He squinted, and directed it to the wall, looking for anything really.
On one piece of broken concrete was some street scrawl. He pressed the button on his ear piece reluctantly.
".. Graffiti says 'Yandex'."
"That's.. not a lot to go on."
"Thanks for the concern."
"Sit tight.."
"Like I have a choice."
He sipped his tea by a warm fire, and glanced at the woman cradling the child before him.
"The wall scrawl helped a little, but in the end, they found me by my cell signal." He said, finishing his tale.
"Thank you." She said. "When he's old enough.."
"If it's all the same to you, I highly doubt that he'll ever be old enough to know."
"No.. He'll deserve to know of who returned him to his mommy." She said, and kissed the babe's forehead warmly.
He smiled thinnly, and endevoured to cash her rather hefty check before the sun set. He had a team to pay.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
---OOO---
The snow was thick and muffled his footsteps as he ran through the woods. It wasn't enough to hide his presence. By the staccato of many somethings striking solidly against the trees, some just by his head, he had in no way lost his pursuers.
He dove to the side and rolled, keeping a careful hold of the package strapped to his front and beneath his parka.
They were a certainly a persistent bunch.
On paper, it was simple enough. Break in, grab the package, then leave before anyone was the wiser. He managed trudging through the snow silently just fine; it was his specialty after all.
The package itself was had been placed in a quiet, isolated house deep in the mountains. From a distance, it looked easy to break into, and it was.
It was the leaving that was the real problem.
He dove and weaved again, taking advantage a puff of snow to reverse his direction. Then purposely slipped and ducked low. If he held still and allowed the white of the furred parka blend in with the surrounding snow, maybe he could give them the slip. He panted as softly as he could, and reached his gloved fingers up the few inches to his front. He glanced down, using the spare moments his ploy allowed him to check the package's welfare.
He saw cheeks in a rosy hue, and felt the warm breath. The little round nose wrinkled in some irritation, but the lids covering the eyes of the babe were as tightly closed as its tiny fists. The package was fine and still sound asleep.
A twig broke and echoed throughout the frigid air. Such sounds were most difficult for anyone to judge the origins of. He flicked his eyes about without moving, and held his breath.
Just. How close were they?
On instinct, he jerked aside: the unseen arrow just nicked his cheek before it thunked solidly into the last trunk of the corpse.
The drifts were deeper from this point on. He was caught in a breathless race to the checkpoint, and there was no more cover for him to hide in.
Arrows vanished into the snow about him, vanishing in the ever deeper drifts. The snow was irresistibly slowing his forward momentum, and his only comfort was that it was doing the same to his pursuers. He was out of breath when he tripped over some hidden rock..
Then to his dismay discovered it wasn't quite a rock at all.
He fell into a deep deep drift. It was well over his head in depth.
He did manage to land very hard on his back. He supposed it was the sudden jolt from the landing that caused the baby to cry out-- very loud and shrillily.
There was a good reason why his pursuers were choosing use the old hunting arrows to try to end his life, even though guns certainly would be far more efficient. In these mountains, at this time of year, loud noise of any sort was not a good idea. Not with such a thick snow pack looming high above them.
The sound of a screaming baby was followed quickly by a bone rattling rumble that overwhelmed him. A stomach dropping heartbeat later, all light was blotted out.
He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. He wasn't certain how long he stared at the balckness until he realized the sound he was hearing was his own panicked breaths. The incessant static from the ear piece, which remained deep in his ear, ended abruptly with a loud click.
"Is the package secure, over?" A tinny voice demanded.
Somehow. Somehow, he still breathed. If he was right, he had been caught in an avalanche and he still breathed. He felt a wall to one side, and half-scooted, half packed the snow around himself. Soon, he had just enough room to struggle with sitting up.
When he had the back of his head leaning against the wall, the baby let him know of it's displeasure rather loudly. He scowled and pressed his half-frozen finger to the ear piece.
"Package is fine. And so am I. Thanks for asking."
"What's your twenty?"
"No idea." He said, and gently patted his front, hoping to comfort the screaming baby. He the reached to his belt and drew out a flashlight.
His flicked it on and was nearly blinded by the sudden brightness. He squinted, and directed it to the wall, looking for anything really.
On one piece of broken concrete was some street scrawl. He pressed the button on his ear piece reluctantly.
".. Graffiti says 'Yandex'."
"That's.. not a lot to go on."
"Thanks for the concern."
"Sit tight.."
"Like I have a choice."
He sipped his tea by a warm fire, and glanced at the woman cradling the child before him.
"The wall scrawl helped a little, but in the end, they found me by my cell signal." He said, finishing his tale.
"Thank you." She said. "When he's old enough.."
"If it's all the same to you, I highly doubt that he'll ever be old enough to know."
"No.. He'll deserve to know of who returned him to his mommy." She said, and kissed the babe's forehead warmly.
He smiled thinnly, and endevoured to cash her rather hefty check before the sun set. He had a team to pay.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Thursday, February 10, 2011
devil bunny needs a ham
Prompt:
Devil-bunny needs a ham
---oooo----
Down crashed the books with a terrible noise, and Cindy was only too happy to let go of the straps of the bags that contained them.
She flopped into the chair before the monochrome monitor, and let out a breath. It was late in the dorms and to her complete disappointment, only the blinking cursor on the dark screen would be keeping her company tonight. She leaned her cheek onto her hand and idly hit the return key on the keyboard.
As it was supposed to, the cursor blinked in response. Then, a sudden sharp beep filled the room, and the cursor moved quickly over the screen. It smoothly bled a message in light that read:
Devil-bunny needs a ham.
Cindy scrunched her face in confusion, mind completely blank at the nonsense phrase. It occurred to her that maybe it was a joke of some sort. Perhaps her roommate had left a game running?
"Poor white trash needs a life.." She grumbled to herself, but her mind said,
A code perhaps?
Her roommate did have a habit of writing things in code about her various boyfriends, but it usually looked like the vowels were missing, in a kind of shorthand. Nothing like this.
Or a least she didn't remember anything like this.
Her fingers twitched as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. What would it hurt to reply? The opposite of a devil was only too obvious.
"But the rabbit...hmmm.."
Bacon needs a can of angel turtle.
She typed awkwardly, thinking herself very clever for making use of the old fable, the tortoise and the hare. Fingers poised over the keys, she held her breath, and waited.
Perhaps there would only be an automated-- and therefore very boring-- response.
9's. Be there in 15
She widened her eyes at the flashing light. She well knew The Nine's was a hot night club in downtown, several miles away. It was the sort of high class place that college kids like herself couldn't afford to look at, much less enter. And to be there in 15 minutes?
Who are you? She typed uselessly: the screen winked out before she could hit enter to send it on its way. She growled at it in frustration, and gave the stupid thing a good whack.
Then shrugged.
It must have been just a game, she told herself, and pulled out the first book to begin her assignment. She tried very hard not to think about what the fancy-smancy nightclub was like.
It didn't work. If anything, she felt even more antsy. She looked at the clock. Ten minutes. Could she even make it?
A voice in her head said, There's only one way to find out.
She looked in her closet searchingly, finding nothing but the usual drab, blah clothing she wore everyday. Not a single one would do. She had heard that even if one had money, if one didn't dress right, then the club would let them in. The worn out jeans that filled her closet were not going to do.
It was wrong, but she glanced longingly to her roommate's, who always seems such the snazzy dresser. She had nightclub-like dresses, and she always managed to look fabulous, whereas Cindy looked, well, like she had just rolled out of bed most days.
The door was shut, of course, and Cindy had always respected the concept of privacy. Besides, she doubted they even wore the same size.
This, however, was a special occasion.
She made it in about sixteen minutes, squeezed into tiny black dress that barely covered the parts that should be. As it was, she had chickened-out and slipped her jeans on the lower parts.
The upper parts ..well, they were another matter.
While she was indeed surprised to find that she was the same size as her roommate, with some pride she smiled that she was the one who had possessed the more ample cleavage. If she were really going to go through with this, she had to remember to only breathe a certain way: with some embarrassment, she had had to put them back in while standing before the bathroom mirror just after she breathed in a particularly deep breath.
She was about to step into line, which wrapped about the building, when she stopped.
Hesitated.
She watched owlishly as a pair of bubble headed girls, empty voices speaking of nothing of great importance, their too-young faces painted up like living dolls, draped themselves on either side of a man in a dark tailored suit. They leaned on his as if their entire existence depended on it.
She realized that this was not the kind of woman she ever wanted to be.
Cindy awoke the next morning to a too bright sun. Worryingly, her roommate was still not back. Unable to do anything about it, she went about her routine as usual. Piled the books she needed for the day in the bag and went on with her nice, quiet, ordinary day.
Her eyes shining, filled with renewed determination to build her life into something she could truly admire.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Devil-bunny needs a ham
---oooo----
Down crashed the books with a terrible noise, and Cindy was only too happy to let go of the straps of the bags that contained them.
She flopped into the chair before the monochrome monitor, and let out a breath. It was late in the dorms and to her complete disappointment, only the blinking cursor on the dark screen would be keeping her company tonight. She leaned her cheek onto her hand and idly hit the return key on the keyboard.
As it was supposed to, the cursor blinked in response. Then, a sudden sharp beep filled the room, and the cursor moved quickly over the screen. It smoothly bled a message in light that read:
Devil-bunny needs a ham.
Cindy scrunched her face in confusion, mind completely blank at the nonsense phrase. It occurred to her that maybe it was a joke of some sort. Perhaps her roommate had left a game running?
"Poor white trash needs a life.." She grumbled to herself, but her mind said,
A code perhaps?
Her roommate did have a habit of writing things in code about her various boyfriends, but it usually looked like the vowels were missing, in a kind of shorthand. Nothing like this.
Or a least she didn't remember anything like this.
Her fingers twitched as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. What would it hurt to reply? The opposite of a devil was only too obvious.
"But the rabbit...hmmm.."
Bacon needs a can of angel turtle.
She typed awkwardly, thinking herself very clever for making use of the old fable, the tortoise and the hare. Fingers poised over the keys, she held her breath, and waited.
Perhaps there would only be an automated-- and therefore very boring-- response.
9's. Be there in 15
She widened her eyes at the flashing light. She well knew The Nine's was a hot night club in downtown, several miles away. It was the sort of high class place that college kids like herself couldn't afford to look at, much less enter. And to be there in 15 minutes?
Who are you? She typed uselessly: the screen winked out before she could hit enter to send it on its way. She growled at it in frustration, and gave the stupid thing a good whack.
Then shrugged.
It must have been just a game, she told herself, and pulled out the first book to begin her assignment. She tried very hard not to think about what the fancy-smancy nightclub was like.
It didn't work. If anything, she felt even more antsy. She looked at the clock. Ten minutes. Could she even make it?
A voice in her head said, There's only one way to find out.
She looked in her closet searchingly, finding nothing but the usual drab, blah clothing she wore everyday. Not a single one would do. She had heard that even if one had money, if one didn't dress right, then the club would let them in. The worn out jeans that filled her closet were not going to do.
It was wrong, but she glanced longingly to her roommate's, who always seems such the snazzy dresser. She had nightclub-like dresses, and she always managed to look fabulous, whereas Cindy looked, well, like she had just rolled out of bed most days.
The door was shut, of course, and Cindy had always respected the concept of privacy. Besides, she doubted they even wore the same size.
This, however, was a special occasion.
She made it in about sixteen minutes, squeezed into tiny black dress that barely covered the parts that should be. As it was, she had chickened-out and slipped her jeans on the lower parts.
The upper parts ..well, they were another matter.
While she was indeed surprised to find that she was the same size as her roommate, with some pride she smiled that she was the one who had possessed the more ample cleavage. If she were really going to go through with this, she had to remember to only breathe a certain way: with some embarrassment, she had had to put them back in while standing before the bathroom mirror just after she breathed in a particularly deep breath.
She was about to step into line, which wrapped about the building, when she stopped.
Hesitated.
She watched owlishly as a pair of bubble headed girls, empty voices speaking of nothing of great importance, their too-young faces painted up like living dolls, draped themselves on either side of a man in a dark tailored suit. They leaned on his as if their entire existence depended on it.
She realized that this was not the kind of woman she ever wanted to be.
Cindy awoke the next morning to a too bright sun. Worryingly, her roommate was still not back. Unable to do anything about it, she went about her routine as usual. Piled the books she needed for the day in the bag and went on with her nice, quiet, ordinary day.
Her eyes shining, filled with renewed determination to build her life into something she could truly admire.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
don't cry over spilled milk
Oook.. This came from nowhere, but once started, I had to actually use it. I rarely do poems of any sort , as I hate them. Alas, it has little to do with meaning of the prompt.
Your next prompt: Don?t cry over spilled milk.
---ooo---
Spilled milk puppy
Bounded down the stairs
Skidded head first
Into the easy chair
Ripped his way
Into the yard
Bit the postman
Handling a card
Dribbling mouth both
Eyes on the cat
laughing so loud
About something fat
And so puppy chased
The stripped furred taunter
never ever catching
That he was the porker
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Your next prompt: Don?t cry over spilled milk.
---ooo---
Spilled milk puppy
Bounded down the stairs
Skidded head first
Into the easy chair
Ripped his way
Into the yard
Bit the postman
Handling a card
Dribbling mouth both
Eyes on the cat
laughing so loud
About something fat
And so puppy chased
The stripped furred taunter
never ever catching
That he was the porker
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
groundfish
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
Sunday, February 6, 2011
singer-pig
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
Saturday, February 5, 2011
stinkin' donut
Alrighty.. Dr who crossover blot bunny all nice and squished. Doing de prompt. Making use of my OC from the harry potter fma crossover I did.
Prompt:
Any universe: The theif says, "All I wanted was the stinking donut.."
---ooo--
Jon Furey. Oh. It's you. You wanna statement? Fine. Cameras.. very useful things. They watch and record objectively what they are pointed at. Usually without fail.
Take for instance this one. It's pointed nicely at the street corner just up the way. Great view of all the traffic.
What?
A permit? No I didn't. Don't need a permit. For one it's tiny and installed on private property. Two, it's way up high, where nobody'll notice it.
See, that's how it works. If nobody ever complains about, then I get to keep on installing. I got over five hundred put up out there.
Monitors of course.
Yeah. You should see my work area. There isn't enough wall space for 'em all. I'm installing some on the ceiling next.
I'm not a perv.
Ok, there was that time. So what. I'm a busness man am I not? I don't judge what the clients want so long as they pay me enough.
Ok. Look. About that. I see this guy wearing plain white t-shirt, with the word "theif" printed on the front in bold red letters. He's just standing there on the street holding some bags. Like a lot of people on the corner.
How should I know if he actually stole anything or not?
Anyway, he's watching this other guy with a baseball bat jump about and bust up this sweet porsh that's parked right there. Yes there was another guy.. Can't miss lime green hair man. The other guy had lime green hair.
Sure I have the audio. Closest microphone is by the post office, so don't blame me if all you hear more than you wanted from that crazy cheap-ass lady yelling at the clerk for a refund.
Remember? She mailed a pooch through two-day mail. Poor mutt. She was all upset the dog arrived dead at her nephew's birthday party ..never mind that the cargo hold gets to be fourty below, and obviously ain't fer dogs..
Alright. Here it is..listen. Hear it..?
Ok. The thief says, "All I wanted was the stinking donut.."
Think he's talking to the joker.. That's what I call the guy doing jumping jacks on the car.
Yeah, it really explains the block wide food fight that happened next, now don't it?
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Prompt:
Any universe: The theif says, "All I wanted was the stinking donut.."
---ooo--
Jon Furey. Oh. It's you. You wanna statement? Fine. Cameras.. very useful things. They watch and record objectively what they are pointed at. Usually without fail.
Take for instance this one. It's pointed nicely at the street corner just up the way. Great view of all the traffic.
What?
A permit? No I didn't. Don't need a permit. For one it's tiny and installed on private property. Two, it's way up high, where nobody'll notice it.
See, that's how it works. If nobody ever complains about, then I get to keep on installing. I got over five hundred put up out there.
Monitors of course.
Yeah. You should see my work area. There isn't enough wall space for 'em all. I'm installing some on the ceiling next.
I'm not a perv.
Ok, there was that time. So what. I'm a busness man am I not? I don't judge what the clients want so long as they pay me enough.
Ok. Look. About that. I see this guy wearing plain white t-shirt, with the word "theif" printed on the front in bold red letters. He's just standing there on the street holding some bags. Like a lot of people on the corner.
How should I know if he actually stole anything or not?
Anyway, he's watching this other guy with a baseball bat jump about and bust up this sweet porsh that's parked right there. Yes there was another guy.. Can't miss lime green hair man. The other guy had lime green hair.
Sure I have the audio. Closest microphone is by the post office, so don't blame me if all you hear more than you wanted from that crazy cheap-ass lady yelling at the clerk for a refund.
Remember? She mailed a pooch through two-day mail. Poor mutt. She was all upset the dog arrived dead at her nephew's birthday party ..never mind that the cargo hold gets to be fourty below, and obviously ain't fer dogs..
Alright. Here it is..listen. Hear it..?
Ok. The thief says, "All I wanted was the stinking donut.."
Think he's talking to the joker.. That's what I call the guy doing jumping jacks on the car.
Yeah, it really explains the block wide food fight that happened next, now don't it?
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Thursday, February 3, 2011
miss universe
Think I've found a good approach for this one. I'm ending it where I'm ending it, because it could easily get overgrown, and become something of a novella rather than a sketch.
Prompt:
Imagine the "Miss Universe" pageant using beings from all over the universe.
----oooo---
Hands and feet chained together, Heero leaned against the plain white washed wall as he sat on the unadorned bench bolted along the hall.
He looked to the food tray being handled next to him and smirked as a frantic blond woman, with poofy hair and shapely curves, used the various things there to hide a thing that looked suspiciously like a over-sturdy pair of scissors. The rolls and mostly overstuffed sandwiches sat over the sharp pointy bit; and the leafy lettuce and a great pile of purple grapes draped over the bright yellow safety handle, but Heero could still easily see the thing she was trying to hide: Could the woman be more obvious in her attempts to hide escape tools for someone?
Heero looked away and down the hall. Several guards were chatting at the Door, and laughed at some joke. He heard,"the poor bastard...but he knew better.." And knew it was he who was the topic of the conversation. He sighed.
If only he hadn't had insulted the town mayor's wife all those years ago.. Was it his fault she was a short and plump woman with no apparent neck? If only she didn't remind him oh so much of a human sized toad! But then, who knew the mayor would manage to get elected to head something like this?
He heard a muffled scream, and winced. Something wet and red struck the windows of the Doors at the hall's very end. It looked rather like blood to him, and he swallowed his bile.
The woman next to him rose to her feet and straightened her shoulders. With her head held high, she strode to the door of the holding cell halfway down the hall, heels echoing along the corridor. A guard opened the door for her, and eyed the tray she was holding suspiciously.
"Next!" He heard called out, and he turned his attention away from the woman.
"I said next!" The guard said impatiently, and looked to a cupboard. "Heero Manticore."
A meaty man in uniform roughly lifted him to his feet by the elbow, and he squeaked out,
"Hey! Watch it!"
As he was half dragged along the hall, the poofy-hair woman watched him with sad eyes. He noticed the guard before her munching on the items on the tray.
Through the Doors at the end of the hall he was roughly shoved, and he caught his balance on unsteady legs. As the doors banged shut behind him, he noticed that the room was just as pristine white as the hall.
He looked back at the square windows impeded in the Doors, certain he would see something grisly. Only, there was nothing but glass and steel.
A light came on, and he turned. The source, about the twice the size of a large door, was a great window. Up at the top hung a brightly lit banner which read: "Miss Universe Pageant", below which he could see a sort of black platform-- perhaps a stage?
A tinny voice began to speak from somewhere in the ceiling, he looked up reflexively only to eye the speakers set there.
"Congratulations on being selected! Welcome, honored Judge, to the Miss Universe Pageant, where beings from all over the universe compete to be declared the most beautiful."
Heero spied a chair, a fancy wood carved number, with overstuffed cushion of red velvet. He settled himself into it uneasily, and lowered his brows when he felt that the cushions were slightly damp beneath him.
"As your predecessor was unfortunately unable to continue, it is our great hope that you will choose the most beautiful being of all."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Prompt:
Imagine the "Miss Universe" pageant using beings from all over the universe.
----oooo---
Hands and feet chained together, Heero leaned against the plain white washed wall as he sat on the unadorned bench bolted along the hall.
He looked to the food tray being handled next to him and smirked as a frantic blond woman, with poofy hair and shapely curves, used the various things there to hide a thing that looked suspiciously like a over-sturdy pair of scissors. The rolls and mostly overstuffed sandwiches sat over the sharp pointy bit; and the leafy lettuce and a great pile of purple grapes draped over the bright yellow safety handle, but Heero could still easily see the thing she was trying to hide: Could the woman be more obvious in her attempts to hide escape tools for someone?
Heero looked away and down the hall. Several guards were chatting at the Door, and laughed at some joke. He heard,"the poor bastard...but he knew better.." And knew it was he who was the topic of the conversation. He sighed.
If only he hadn't had insulted the town mayor's wife all those years ago.. Was it his fault she was a short and plump woman with no apparent neck? If only she didn't remind him oh so much of a human sized toad! But then, who knew the mayor would manage to get elected to head something like this?
He heard a muffled scream, and winced. Something wet and red struck the windows of the Doors at the hall's very end. It looked rather like blood to him, and he swallowed his bile.
The woman next to him rose to her feet and straightened her shoulders. With her head held high, she strode to the door of the holding cell halfway down the hall, heels echoing along the corridor. A guard opened the door for her, and eyed the tray she was holding suspiciously.
"Next!" He heard called out, and he turned his attention away from the woman.
"I said next!" The guard said impatiently, and looked to a cupboard. "Heero Manticore."
A meaty man in uniform roughly lifted him to his feet by the elbow, and he squeaked out,
"Hey! Watch it!"
As he was half dragged along the hall, the poofy-hair woman watched him with sad eyes. He noticed the guard before her munching on the items on the tray.
Through the Doors at the end of the hall he was roughly shoved, and he caught his balance on unsteady legs. As the doors banged shut behind him, he noticed that the room was just as pristine white as the hall.
He looked back at the square windows impeded in the Doors, certain he would see something grisly. Only, there was nothing but glass and steel.
A light came on, and he turned. The source, about the twice the size of a large door, was a great window. Up at the top hung a brightly lit banner which read: "Miss Universe Pageant", below which he could see a sort of black platform-- perhaps a stage?
A tinny voice began to speak from somewhere in the ceiling, he looked up reflexively only to eye the speakers set there.
"Congratulations on being selected! Welcome, honored Judge, to the Miss Universe Pageant, where beings from all over the universe compete to be declared the most beautiful."
Heero spied a chair, a fancy wood carved number, with overstuffed cushion of red velvet. He settled himself into it uneasily, and lowered his brows when he felt that the cushions were slightly damp beneath him.
"As your predecessor was unfortunately unable to continue, it is our great hope that you will choose the most beautiful being of all."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
look what followed me home
This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net
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