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I'm in.
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Dec 4, 2012 23:30
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| # ¿ Apr 28, 2024 20:07 |
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Bad Seafood posted:I'm back on the inside. Awwww yeah 
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Dec 5, 2012 22:23
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The Old Ship of Zion (789 words) Mama's always tellin me not to go wandering outside when it's light out, an the sky is flashing with the green, but now that she's big she can't chase me as quick. I don't mind her hollering, cause I wanna catch an eyeful of them ships that drop down to our swamp once every while. Once they gone, won't be no more for a whole year. All I want is just an eyeful of that pretty black metal; I'll just think on that while Mama wallops me later. Just a tip of a teaspoon of a look at them ships is worth all the wallops in the world. Mama hollering, but I keep walking through the wet wooded strips that lead to the landing place. The swamp's dark and I feel night shivers even though I know it's daytime. Even as they dead, them big old cypress trees is doin a real good job keepin the sun out. That's why we can get by with just a layer of mud, Mama say, unlike the bubble folk who can't even go outside without turning pink like they been turned inside-out. The bubble folk can't even have babies on they own, so they gotta have Mama do it for them. Mama says too that I better watch for snakes and spiders and such things when I'm out, but I ain't never seen any of them lately. When they took all the birds and the gators and the swamp rats and Daddy, I reckon they took the snakes and spiders too. The landing place is just three hail marys' worth a walk away from our house, so it ain't long before I see the legs of the ships shine through the trees. They exactly as I remember: bigger n' taller than the biggest cypress I ever saw and smoother than my Mama's belly. Once I caught them as they was leaving, and I saw them float away like dandelion seeds. Other people here too, but they too clean-looking to have been here long as us. Mama says don't talk to none like those cause we ain't ship beggars like them. They probably ain't even Cajuns. I love my Mama enough to keep quiet, at least, so I jus stay behind a tree and watch. All them cleaner people wearing rags, begging off the men hauling boxes and roll-ups from the ships. When the men start firing they guns to scare off the crowd, I run back into the swamp. They'll come by our place later too probably. "Kerm! Je le jure devant Dieu, inside right this now!" Mama says standing in our doorway, waiting for me with water on her cheeks. I try to squeeze past her, but it ain't no use when she's so big. She grabs my shirt by the collar, drags me inside, and wallops me hard. I close my eyes and try to see the ships in the black part behind my eyelids. Mama cries. When I wake up again, I wear my helmet and Mama's put my show on. Our helmets got wires, so I have to stay on the couch or else the wires will pop right out the back. "On today's episode," the light-skin clean man say, "we have Brenda, who says that she's in love with a hologram!" The place where he's at is pretty and clean and peach-colored, with chairs that don't look like nobody's sweated on them. I don't know what's a hologram, but I keep watching anyway. "But not just any hologram, ladies and gentlemen: he's also a Klansman!" Videos of blowed-up white buildings flash and there's fire, and people yell and cuss. Just when the show gets to the good part, Mama pulls the helmet off. "Naw, Mama!" Quick as that, I'm crying a little. She shushes me and says that the men from the ship'r here. Soon as I hear that, I suck the tears back up again and stand up with my back straight. The men are standing inside our little house, holding a box of the big, pink loaves, with the red and yellow lines of vitamin, plus cartridges of helmet pictures for kids. I'd rather have crawfish, but I don't say nothin. Mama says I gotta be a man, especially for the clean gun men. The men look nervous, but they don't say nothing. "I'm ready," Mama says, and she puts her hand on my head. "Kiss her bye-bye, Kerm." I lean over and give the side of her belly a little peck, just like before. The men open up a box full of tools as smooth and shiny as they ship. Mama sends me outside to wait. I wonder what shows they got this time.
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Dec 7, 2012 20:16
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Bad Seafood posted:Wait, that probably counts as an idiom near the end there doesn't it. Shoot. We've yet to see if bayou sci fi is legit enough for this competition! Thanks for the inspiration.
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Dec 7, 2012 22:13
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Bad Seafood posted:I am incredibly alright with this verdict. gg Bad Seafood! I loved where you took the prompt -- I wouldn't have ever thought to incorporate sci fi on such an advanced, abstract level. Alls I could think of were spaceships ooooh~
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Dec 8, 2012 18:59
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An Unnatural Howling Noise (389 words) I'm really, terribly sorry about touching your hand, sir, it's just that I had only a few options available to me, either left or down, and I chose down because left would have brought my hand to my breast, and I didn't want to look like I was coming on to you, but not that you're unattractive per se, I am just assuming that since I'm not at that point in my life, you wouldn't be either, I mean, not to say that you wouldn't have a girlfriend or boyfriend or whateverfriend right now, it's just that maybe you're happily single, like me, and oh dear, I'm holding up the line, I'm so, so sorry everyone, it's just that I feel like I need to be explaining myself, and I'm sure if you were in my shoes you'd be doing the same, and I know I'm being terrible oh gosh, I really, really am sorry, but I know and you know and we all know that this is way better than the way things used to be, when we couldn't say anything to anyone and everything just had to be cloaked in such an alienating layer of aloofness and status updates, yes, it's much better than it used to be, I mean thank goodness we've gotten over that nonsense and now we can be truthful to one another, just the way we were meant to be, and oops oh gosh I'm so very sorry, I just can't quite remember what I ordered, I think it was the Grilled Chicken Toastybun, yes, I really really do appreciate your patience here, and might I say, might I say, it's really wonderful how you and I can have this wonderful exchange and who knows maybe we'll be able to exchange something deep and real, not like how it used to be, when things were so false and we depended on so many rules and things, I mean it's ridiculous how I wouldn't have been able to have such a wonderful exchange with someone like you, beyond the particular 'Hello, and how are you' thing, I mean it was always so irritating how no one ever wanted to really know, I mean really know how any one person was doing, but now this is really amazing and emotional and just, real, isn't it?
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Dec 10, 2012 00:40
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The Saddest Rhino posted:CHEESE PRIDE MALAYSIA! poo poo, I loled pretty hard at that. Oh man. The whole time though, I was distracted by concerns about Asian lactose intolerance. I feel like the sequel to this story is gonna be Diarrhea Town.
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Dec 10, 2012 00:49
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Peel posted:Thanks V. The restrictions (time, length, cheesiness) cut deep this time and so a couple of jokes ended up on the floor, but even apart from that I wasn't sure how to end it. Echoing this. Phew. Satire is definitely not my strong suit, but I'm glad I gave it a shot.
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Dec 10, 2012 18:01
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I have to admit that I was pretty intimidated at first, especially since I haven't really written any fiction for maybe a decade. This past matchup was really eye-opening for me, especially with regard to things that I really need to bone up on. I am so ready to dish it out as well as take it, though. Hope it's not too late to sign up for the next rodeo?
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Dec 11, 2012 02:55
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Fanky Malloons posted:Not at all! We love it when new people jump in with both feet. I'll bring my wheels
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Dec 11, 2012 03:17
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Ughhh I hate love but I have a ton of bhangra music in my library. Fuckkk let's do this.
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Dec 12, 2012 03:18
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Warming up by writing poetry about manatees and otters falling in love. I'm ready to turn the cute up to 11.
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Dec 14, 2012 07:50
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Oh god I'm such a shithead. I spent all of yesterday wigging out about relatives in CT. Sorry sorry sorry I deserve the worst avatar.
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Dec 15, 2012 21:29
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Time to redeem my dumbass self. Sign me up!
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Dec 17, 2012 01:17
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Peel posted:Tender Child Loins: XVI, The Tower Frequent keyword: Chaos ----- Sudden change ----- Impact ----- Hard times gently caress yeah 
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Dec 17, 2012 20:46
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| # ¿ Apr 28, 2024 20:07 |
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 Okada's Tower (515 words) Captain Okada held the rusted blade of his bayonet to the hunter's neck. Between coughs, he bellowed in his best English: "Who do you serve? Americans? Australia?" The hunter, a brown, middle-aged man with long, glossy black hair, slowly shook his head as he raised his hands in surrender. Nearby, a parrot squawked and flew deeper into the jungle. Okada made a mental note of the man's fearless, apathetic look. He seemed the regard the Captain with the attitude of a mother jaguar toward her young. It stung, but only his knitted eyebrows betrayed his wounded pride. The hunter was the first person with whom Cpt. Okada spoke for sixty years. He mouthed a string of syllables that Okada couldn't discern. Chonee? Koli? Nothing he could think of made sense, so he settled for Hunter. The man's ragged satchel had dropped with a metal clunk when Okada rushed down the stairs of his guard tower and thrust his bayonet at him. As his trained gaze evaluated Hunter's weapons -- bloodstained machete, skinning knife, and sling -- dim feelings of longing poisoned his heart. He missed the company of people. Hunter nodded and kicked at his satchel. "Foot?" he asked. Okada relaxed and let Hunter pull an aluminum can from his bag. He grabbed it with a reluctant motion, and tried to hide his excitement behind a quivering frown. Canned yams. Hunter produced a bag of jerky and a can opener and the two men sat down to eat under the shade of a banana tree. Hunter waved to the huge steel structure from which Okada had emerged. Though he couldn't understand the particulars of the question, Okada knew the source of his curiosity. "I, soldier of Japanese Imperial Army. When my platoon died, I was the only one left to patrol." Hunter made an incredulous noise and got up to examine the tower's twisted steel supports and rails. Ivy and moisture had taken their toll on the metal, but something else had turned it black. "Lightning," Okada said. As Hunter ran his callused hands over the worn metal, brow furrowed in thought, Okada beamed deep inside. The old soldier could hardly contain his exuberance at this new development. If Hunter had what it took, he would be a fine addition to the platoon with a little training. He could take up a portion of the patrols, and Okada would finally get some rest. The cascade of thoughts and plans dammed up when Hunter thrust something into his face. Something sleek, made of glass and metal. There was text -- in Japanese, even! -- under the glass. "W-what is this?" Okada took the smooth instrument and read. There was information about the war right in front of him. Perhaps this man was some kind of operative after all. Okada snapped out of hIs reverie when the object started playing a screeching noise... a song? Hunter took it and used it to speak to someone, perhaps his commander? Okada had to think fast. The captain threw himself to the ground and bowed his head. "Mercy," he pleaded.
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Dec 22, 2012 23:57
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