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sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I need to work on my flash fiction- what better way to improve than a fight to the death?

(Include me, please!)

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sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


The Tenant Farmer’s Lamentation (544)

Owen slipped a hand under his shirt and felt his ribs. He knew the very surface of his bones by feel, now, every imperfection magnified under his taut skin. Every aspect of his body was emaciated; his shrunken organs bulged like an overfilled sausage out of his stomach and his eyes sunk deep into the pits of their sockets. It had been three days since he had last eaten, instead making sure that his mother had what little food there was to eat. She was getting worse by the day; the suppurating wounds around her mouth grew more hideous and awful, surprising Owen with their virulence every time he came inside the house. He had already dug her grave.

He stepped into their one-room home, which was bare with the exception of the single bed in the corner. Owen had sold the rest of the furniture after his father died, as there was no way he could pay the landlord and pay for his father’s burial without the extra money. Drawing scraps of bread from a lone sack, he knelt next to his mother’s bed and tried to feed her.

“Owen, gie sum tah yer da. Needs it more than oi do, he needs ter be strong ter ‘arvest tha crop.” The words hissed out of her mouth, causing tears to well up in Owen’s eyes.

“Da ‘ad sum already, ma, yer need tah eate.” She took a small bite, and then pushed his hand away. He took her arm, massaging the ravaged muscles, what little was left, hoping to stave off what withering had already occurred. His mother moaned softly, continuing to push him weakly away. She was soon asleep. Owen watched her chest rise and fall with her breath long into the late evening. His own breath caught for a moment whenever her chest stopped moving, his heart bursting with dread and anticipation. Her breath would resume, however, and Owen would slump back into his interminable wait for the Reaper.

As night fell, Owen stood in the middle of his field. He feet scuffed the dirt, kicking aside the wilted and foul matter that used to be his crop. There would be no money this month. Not even a few shillings, certainly not enough to keep his mother alive. He had sent a letter to the landlord, spending an hour with the reverend to make sure the spelling was right. The letter begged for an extension, just another few days to see if the crop would grow.

He clutched the landlord’s response in his hand, the sweat from his skin marring the ink.

“What do we care about you or your black potatoes? It was not us that made them black. You will pay the rent on time, and if you don’t you know the consequences.”

Owen dropped to his knees. He threw the paper aside and scraped his hands through the earth, searching for some semblance of wholesome, healthy organic life. What he found instead was black with rot, burning with pestilence and wanted by no man. The devil himself had come to Ireland, and all the land was implanted with his dark seed. Owen stared at the earth, seeing his dead crop and knowing that he had died with it.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I have to say, I'm proud to face you all in the 'Dome. May the best walk away, basking in the glory of the crowd's adulations. May the average slink away, drawing back into the shadows to wait for another chance. And the losers, well, may the losers wear their avatar of shame into all the nooks in crannies of SomethingAwful, to be ridiculed by the masses in GBS and eventually fed to the gibbering man-beasts of FYAD.

"Some dudes enter, most dudes leave!"

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I hope you stay dq'd, that was a pretty awesome story <:mad:>

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Black Griffon posted:

You mother fuckers. If this was Mad Max, the movie would be five hours long and directed by Zach Braff.

Soundtrack by The Shins!

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Stuporstar posted:

but I hear Martello is preparing something special.
:dance::neckbeard::ohdear::f5:

I'm a terrible mix of emotions all of the sudden!

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I must redeem myself for making an altogether way-too-serious/over the top entry in the first skirmish! What's the next prompt?

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I'm in, even if it means I'll probably get a new avatar (and not in the good way)

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Clone Love 491w

Sarah-1 watched from the balcony as the throngs of workers pushed and shoved their way into the factory. Lines of soldiers and tanks gave formed a narrow path to the factory doors, and to get to your place on the bullet presses on time you had to be assertive. One minute too late and you were shipped off for annihilation (and a new clone). Being one of the elite, however, had its privileges; Sarah-1’s father, Robert-Alpha, was a member of the ruling class and made sure Sarah-1 would never have to work. Due to recent events, however, Sarah-1’s non-worker status might be in danger.

Her mother, Elizabeth-Alpha, strode onto the balcony and handed Sarah-1 a glass of clean water, yet another privilege of power. Sarah-1’s eyes were red, and her mother noticed.

“Sarah, have you been crying?”

“Yeah.” Sarah-1 sniffled. “Alan-1 says his father bought us a new apartment over one of the lakes in the nature district.”

Elizabeth frowned. “That sounds wonderful! Why would you be crying, then?”

Sarah-1 whirled around, glaring at her mother. “Because I’m pregnant with Alan-2’s child, mother!”

“Does Alan-2 know?”

“I told him yesterday. He’s excited about it, he wants to tell his family.”

Elizabeth gasped. “But Alan-1 could have you disintegrated for adultery! Why would Alan-2 risk your life?“

“I don’t know. Alan-2 said he wanted to talk about it today. He should be here soon”.

The front entrance chimed, causing both women to look back as their robo-doorman ushered Alan-2, and to Sarah-1’s horror, Alan-1 inside.

“Mother, what should I do? I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Sarah-1 was hyperventilating. Elizabeth was speechless. Alan-1 and Alan-2 approached the door to the balcony, their strong, handsome faces set in determination.

Sarah-1, frantic, started to climb onto the railing of the balcony. “I can’t do this! I won’t be annihilated!”

She jumped. Elizabeth shrieked, darting forward to grab her daughter but just missing a snatch of Sarah-1’s dress. Sarah-1 closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. But when she opened them, she saw both Alan-1 and Alan-2 holding onto her arms. They quickly pulled her back onto the balcony, both hugging her tightly.

“Sarah-1, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that?” Alan-2 stared intently, longingly into her eyes.

“Yeah, no kidding! Your clone wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful as you!” Alan-1 was smiling now, relieved that Sarah-1 was safely in hand.

“You can’t tell him, Alan-2! You just can’t!” Sarah-1 was crying now, looking back and forth between the two clones. Alan-1 moved forward to embrace her.

“I already know, Sarah-1. Alan-2 told me this morning about the baby.”

Sarah-1 sobbed. Alan-2 grinned, his perfect teeth gleaming in the artificial sunlight. She snapped.

“What’s so funny about this?”

Alan-1 was grinning too. “Because we want to raise the baby with you together!”

Sarah-1 was still crying, but tears of joy, not sorrow. She collapsed into the arms of her two clone lovers.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Sitting Here posted:

Oh god I can feel the judge-rage flowing through me. The power. So beautiful.

With great power comes great responsibility!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-o308cW0hKI

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I have to admit, I have real problems with women protagonists. They are always either super weak or super aggressive ( like in an overcompensating way). I can never just write normal women. I blame the misogyny inherent in society. :colbert:

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Let me compete again, please! I'll keep churning out drivel, you keep making me feel bad for it! This is a good system!

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


For the record, I am a fat white male in my 20's, living in Texas. I am affluent, educated, and over-privileged. This is my thunderdome entry, and I tried to keep my stupid white voice out of it as much as I could but I'm not so sure it worked. Anyway, here it is.

Heart of Darkness 1575 words

“No, please, no, don’t shoot me, don’t shoot!” The old man pleaded in fluent Xhosa. The three dark figures around him exchanged pointed glances. With a fluid motion, the shortest of the figures pulled out a stub pistol and shot the old man three times. The reports echoed like thunderheads across the flatlands, but there would be no one around for miles to hear it. The other two dug through the dead man’s clothes, retrieving a small package and leaving the rest. All three walked up the hill and to the car waiting by the side of the road. The body would be found in the morning, but they would be long gone before then.

****

The sun burned high and hot in the sky like one of the golden coins I handed to the bartender bringing me my beer. Even in the shade of the outdoor bar I like to frequent the temperature was close to 40 degrees; that meant I would be sipping on Joburg beer until the late evening and stumble home when it got cooler. The cigar burned in my fingers, and I savored the smoke like I would a fine meal. The new anti-smoking regulations were rumored to go into effect, and my beloved Cuban Cohibas would get me into trouble. I had been making eyes at a beautiful woman across the bar all day; her hair was cut short how I like it and her eyes caught mine like burning embers. After buying her a drink, she came over to my chair.

“Aren’t you Menzi Ncapayi? You have that office on Twist street.” The fact that she knew who I was already meant two things: I was going to have some business, and I would be getting to know her better.

“I am he!” I grinned, beckoning her to sit down next to me.

“My name is Lumka.” She sat, eyes flicking between me and my cigar. I offered her one, and she lit it with a practiced flair. This woman was trouble. Her eyes closed and she blew out the smoke with a sigh.

“I’m going to miss this. They are passing that law, did you hear?” I nodded. Her Afrikaans was perfect; was she a local, or from the south east? Her name was a Xhosa name, like mine. Curious, I switched to Xhosa and continued our discussion.

“They’re going to ban smoking outdoors. I’ll have to stay at my office to smoke!” She smiled at the use of my native language. Our conversation continued in Xhosa, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that she was from a village adjacent to mine, deep in the Eastern Cape.

When we had finished our drinks, we walked back to my office in the twilight. We passed the throngs of tourists traveling back from the bars to their downtown hotel rooms, separated from them by both our race and language.

I unlocked my office and led Lumka into the sitting room. She accepted the glass of Amarula I offered, and we got down to business.

“So what can I do for you?”

“I actually came to the bar to look for you, I knew you would be there. I’ve heard about your cases, people say you know how to find things.”

“What do you need me to find?”

“My father.”

****

Her tale was a short one. Her father had traveled from their village to Johannesburg to meet a dealer, hoping to make some money by selling an heirloom. The father never showed, and he’d been missing for three days. I told her I’d take the case. I even dropped my normal rate down to 25 euros a day.

The first place I started my searches for lost people was the morgue at the hospital school. Most people ‘lost’ in Africa met untimely deaths, usually at the hands of unscrupulous criminals. I slipped the guard a ten-euro note, passing through the locked door and into the morgue proper. They kept the temperature down, and it was a refreshing change from the unbearable heat. Rolf greeted me with a warm hello.

Rolf is a fat, old German expatriate, consistently drunk on the job but always willing to let me poke around the bodies for a few euros and some beer. His breath wafted across my face like the stench from a Pikitup landfill.

“Menzi, my good friend! It’s good to see you!” Rolf shook my hand firmly.

“Rolf, it is good to see you too. Is this a good time?”

“Of course! Please, come see my wares.”

****

It didn’t take long to find Lumka’s father. The old man had been murdered, shot three times in the chest. Rolf informed me that they had found his body on the road south of town. Questions ran through my head as I walked back to my office. Who would murder the old man? What was the old man selling to the dealer?

I needed a drink. Fetching my bottle of twenty-year-old scotch, I sat in the cool darkness of my sitting room and mulled over the case. A murdered elder and a missing heirloom all centered around a captivating woman. It was one of my more interesting cases. I was just about to fall asleep when the click of a hammer being drawn back caused me to bolt upright only like a loaded gun can.

“Don’t move”. The man was standing in the middle of my drat office and I hadn’t even heard him come in. I raised my hands as he stuck a hand in my coat, removing my .45 from its holster. It had taken me a year to get the permit for it. Now I probably wouldn’t see it again. The man continued.

“I saw you at the morgue today. I want you to stay away, don’t talk to anyone, and don’t ask anymore questions. Otherwise I’ll shoot you dead in the street.”

The man’s face was obscured in the darkness, but I could tell by his dialect that he probably came from the same village that Lumka did. I started to ask a question when another thug struck me from behind, and the last thought I had switched off the lights on its way out.

****

The next morning I found Lumka waiting outside my door. She told me she had been looking for me, that no one knew where I was. We spent an hour talking; I told her about her father and the thugs that mugged me. I consoled her while she grieved for her father, and then set about planning a talk with the dealer.

A taxi cab ride later I was standing in front of the dealer’s shop with Lumka. As it turned out, he wasn’t a dealer in heirlooms, he was a jeweler. My heart ached; somehow this involved diamonds, and while they are a ‘girl’s best friend’ in American advertisements, they often are paired with violence and death in Africa.

The thugs were waiting for us. I had a feeling they would be, which is why I stopped by the morgue to borrow Rolf’s war-era pistol. It felt strange in my hand, especially given its history, but when the thugs opened fire, I was glad I had it. I wasn’t very good with the pistol, and it took me several shots before I managed to hit one of them. Thankfully they weren’t accurate either. Before I knew it, one of the men was dead, the other wounded.

Lumka ran up to the wounded man, shouting about a package. I climbed to my feet, shedding the shattered glass from the jewler’s cases off of my clothes. I could hear sirens in the background. Lumka rifled through both men’s clothing, finally finding a brown paper package. The wounded man gasped

“Half of that is mi-“
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together now, just as Lumka turned to point the still-smoking snub pistol in my face.

“I’m leaving, and I’ll shoot you if I have to.” She climbed over the dead men towards the rear of the store.

“You had these men kill your father for diamonds?” I knew the answer, and her silence confirmed it.

“I told him to let me sell them. They are worth millions, but he refused to listen. He would have sold them to this stupid jeweler for a pittance.”

I couldn’t let her leave.

“Lumka, what are you going to do? The police are already here.” I gestured outside, towards the now-arriving vehicles. She bared her teeth, and raised her gun.

“Then I’ll have to make sure I’m the only one to tell the story.”

I dodged out of the way just in time, avoiding the lethal bullet. She had left me no choice. I shot her between her smoldering brown eyes.

****

The police questioned me briefly and then left. I had figured that the thugs Lumka hired to help kill her father escaped with the diamonds, and she had hired me to track them down. The uncut stones were indeed worth millions, and they were immediately scooped up as evidence in the case. I’m sure they were stolen mere hours after arriving at the police station, but that’s no problem of mine. Unless they hire me to find them, of course! I even have a good lead on where one of the stones is now. I’m meeting the buyer tomorrow.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


You have an awesome username, so that sort of makes up for it :shobon:

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I had a lot of fun with this prompt, I hope I didn't gently caress it up too badly.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Where's my new prompt, dammit? :f5h::mad:

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Of course I'm in. Bring it :black101:

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


toanoradian posted:

I think you misspelled something here.

Judge sass never helped anyone do anything :ohdear:

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Normally I'm able to get words down on paper for these things immediately (they aren't good words, but words nonetheless), but now that I'm on a slightly shorter deadline I have immense writer's block.


gently caress it, this is THUNDERDOME! I WILL WRITE SOMETHING IF IT KILLS ME

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I have a question regarding the physics limitation. Obviously things like teleportation and FTL travel is completely physics-breaking, but what if I want to have removal of an artifact from the surface of the moon cause a disruption in the lunar orbit? Is that considered breaking the laws of physics? It feels like it, but maybe I'm wrong?

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Erik Shawn-Bohner posted:

The idea is that ya'll will do research and stretch yourself. With that, you might want to look up the mass of the moon and see just how much energy it would require to displace it a significant amount. Hint: a loving lot.

Yeah I know :smith: I was just being optimistic. I wanted a magical moon wizard to cast a spell and slam the moon into the surface of the earth.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


New question: I want to include a line break to indicate passage of time. Does that count as a word, or several words, or whatever?

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Perfidy

“I hosed your wife.” Waverly didn’t bother looking away from the window.

“What? What was that?” His partner, Rollins, looked up from the bunk.

“I said, ‘I hosed your wife’. I hosed her before we left. It was at that party, the one where Thompson broke that glass table when he was shitfaced. We were in one of the bedrooms while you were passed out.” Waverly drank some water as Rollins stared in disbelief.

The solar storm had been raging for three days. It was completely unexpected and communication with Houston had ceased when a coronal mass ejection had rendered both the on-board and erectable S-band antennas inoperable. This left the two men in silence until the command module carrying the third member of their crew, Herrera, came back around from the dark side of the moon and they could communicate via VHF.

“What in the hell, Ben? You had sex with Emily?” Rollins was on his feet.

“Yeah, Chris, I did. And you know what? It was really loving good. She told me it was the best she had in years.” Waverly had actually been screwing Rollins’ wife for six months.

Rollins shoved Waverly against the wall. A brief scuffle ensued, both men punching and grappling as much as they could in the confined space when Herrera’s voice sounded over the comm.

“-ear me? Hello? You guys there? I… -orm’s interfering-“ The message was breaking up every few seconds, but it did cause both men to cease fighting immediately.

Rollins, breathing heavily, managed to calm himself for a response, but not before getting one last jab in at Waverly.

“This isn’t finished, Chris. We’re not loving done with this.” Rollins pressed the transmit button. “Tony, we’re here. When in the hell is this storm going to let up?”

It took a half hour of frustrating, static-laden conversation, but Herrera managed to convey that the storm would let up in a few hours, and Houston wanted the mission to continue as normal.

When the solar storm finally ceased, Waverly and Rollins set out to complete the mission. They brought out the rover and drove out across the desolate surface. The goal of the mission was to set up a sort of relay across the moon; later missions would include a trip to the dark side to set up a radio antenna that would allow NASA to broadcast without interference from earth-based radio signals.

“OK, make a slight left here.” Waverly was consulting the selenographic map, directing Rollins to the site where they would construct the relay.

“I know, Chris. gently caress off.”

“I’m just following the mission orders, Ben, okay? Listen, I’m sorry you’re so sensitive about this poo poo, it was just physical-“

“Shut up. Shut your loving mouth. I don’t want to hear any of this. When we get back to earth, I don’t want to see your face again.”

It took close to two hours of driving to reach the site. Rollins parked the rover and Waverly started to unload the relay equipment. As Waverly was distracted, Rollins went to the rear of the lander, grabbed a series of wires leading the EVA communications antenna, and ripped them out.

“Chris, are you getting any communication with Herrera? My mic seems to be broken.”

“Tony, this is Chris. Tony, can you hear me? Tony?” Waverly fiddled with his suit for a moment. “Nope, no comms. We’ll be able to figure this out when we get back, let’s just get this poo poo set up.”

As Waverly bent down to attach the cabling to the relay, Rollins gripped the rock he had taken from the lunar surface. With all the force he could muster, slammed the rock into the side of Waverly’s helmet. Due to the significantly lower gravity, however, not much damage was done.

“What the gently caress, man?” Waverly shouted over the mic. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill you, motherfucker!” Rollins screamed, raising the rock again. Waverly jumped, sailing up and away from Rollins. Rollins pursued, resulting in the two men performing a ballet of sorts, dancing across the thin dust of the moon. With a growl, Rollins finally snatched one of the hoses on Waverly’s suit and they both floated to the ground.

Rollins grunted with exertion, trying to unlatch Waverly’s helmet or yank out his oxygen, but Rollins’ gloved fingers did not have the dexterity. Waverly pushed Rollins off and kicked him towards a nearby crater. Rollins managed to stop himself before rolling into the shadow of the crater, where the temperature was deadly cold. Reaching the drivers seat of the rover, Waverly looked back towards Rollins, still fifty yards away and scrambling to his feet. Rollins screamed again, an animalistic expulsion of all his rage over the mic as Waverly turned the rover on, and started to drive away.

“Don’t worry Rollins! I’ll make sure Emily has a shoulder to cry on!” Waverly watched as Rollins dropped to his knees, still screaming. Eventually Waverly was far enough away that Rollins equipment could no longer broadcast. Waverly grinned.

****

Waverly climbed back up into the lunar module. Pausing a moment, he accelerated his breathing, hyperventilating to appear out of breath. He hit the transmit button.

“Herrera? Herrera! Tony, get the gently caress on the comm!”

“Chris? What’s wrong? You sound loving scared, man!”

“Ben took his drat helmet off! I don’t know, he just took it off!”

“What the gently caress are you talking about? What do you mean he took his helmet off?”

“He said something about being done, and then just took it off! He’s dead, Tony! He’s loving dead!”

“Jesus Christ, Chris, where’s his body?”

“I couldn’t bring it back, he fell into a crater! What should I do?”

“Let me call Houston.”

****

The lunar module’s rockets ignited. As regrettable as it was, there was nothing Waverly could have done. Houston advised that Waverly just come home.

Rollins stared at the lifting rocket. He screamed, and kept screaming until his oxygen ran out.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Perfidy: Epilogue

Suicide rates had dropped dramatically since the announcement. Something catastrophic was happening, but people felt they needed to see the end result. Astronomers around the world knew the apocalypse was coming both by the burning point of light rapidly approaching and by the news that all man-made probes beyond the orbit of mars were being taken offline one-by-one in a straight line towards earth. A radio relay recently erected on the moon was also picking up something strange; though the relay was built onto the dark side of the moon to avoid interference from earth, it was still receiving what appeared to be an earth based signal.

“… been down too long in the midnight sea…”

The end came in a form no one could have expected. A giant red dragon, engulfed in flames, soaring through space and obliterating everything in its path, had landed on the moon. Despite having died due to complications of stomach cancer in 2010, Ronnie James Dio was riding the dragon; this was confirmed through no less than six independent satellites, with photos and live video.

The questions were many, but the new god Dio had no answers for his worshippers. Instead, from atop his mighty dragon, he drew his mighty axe. Playing the lick that would destroy humanity, Dio sent forth a sonic blast with the force of 7.3×10^28 newtons. Because force is equal to mass multiplied by acceleration, this application of force accelerated the 7.3 × 10^22 kilogram lunar body to 1 million meters per second in the direction of it’s parent planet.

As the moon entered the atmosphere, liquefying the earth’s crust, a single phrase could be heard before you died no matter where you stood on the globe:

“HOLY DIVER”



























sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Martello posted:

:siren:Thunderdome Week V:siren:
Word count is ~1000. Don't push it.

t:mad:

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Tell you what, Chairchucker, I will be the nice judge this week. I'll give you bonus points if you, in addition to your story, write a 250 synopsis of your favorite R.L. Stine Goosebumps story. I'll warn you now though, If I find you've copied and pasted something from the internet, consequences will be dire.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


toanoradian posted:

September 7
Spent the whole day sneaking a peek at Judges' journals. Discover that areyoucontagious slept with stuffed gnomes by his side. It acts as replacement kidney.

Also, the gnomes don't like the stories much so far. It's a good thing they don't really have an impact on my judging!

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I'm back, bitches. Time to rock out this old-timer gold.

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


dromer posted:

I'm in. I assume that flashbacks are off limits?

Oh gently caress you. t:mad:t

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


A Bitter Heart -- 562 words

The soft hiss of the respirator was the only sound to break the silence of the room. Antonio sat near the bed, monitoring the rise and fall of the woman’s chest. Her living will gave thirty days for improvement, and time was running out. Antonio sat, wanting to ensure that he was there for when she woke up or when the time came to turn off the machines.

Antonio brushed a hand across her lined face, murmuring his love softly. He wheeled his chair closer, moving her bangs from her eyes. He made sure her pillow was not too flat, and finally strained up out of the chair on feeble arms to peck her on the cheek.

“Found you, bastard.” The wheezing, phlegm-filled voice startled Antonio. The Brit standing in the corner, despite the 65 years that had passed, was instantly recognizable.

“Bear. I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Antonio gripped the arms of his wheelchair tightly, partly out of fear, but he was also angry at this trespass. He had a gun strapped to his shin, but getting to it would likely result in Bear shooting him first.

“Easier to remember codenames after all these years, eh?” Bear drew a weathered pistol from a coat pocket. “Still works, I tested it before I came here. I thought it would be appropriate, killing you with my standard issue from back in the war.”

“How did you find us?”

“She called me about a year ago, to tell me about the cancer. She even told me the aliases you two were using, Antonio. Interesting choice. A Russian named Ruby and a German named Antonio. I suppose since you fled to Brazil you thought you were being clever?”

“What do you want, Bear, get to the point. Why are you doing this? We’re both old men, there’s no point to this.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, mate. You killed a lot of my chums back in Europe, and more importantly you stole Lyudmila from me. She was mine, Rolf! We were in love, dammit!”

“Bear, that was a long time ago. I had no idea. I was doing the same thing you were, doing my duty for my country. It was coincidence I met her at the bar. She was waiting for you! I was just there to meet my contact.”

“I was planning on taking her back to London after the war. I had the money, and she wasn’t going to take any more missions! And then you dragged her into whatever scheme you hatched. I don’t know how you convinced her.” Bear sat down heavily onto a nearby chair. His breath was labored as he struggled through his speech.
“You stole her, you thieving bastard. And now I’ve come to take her back and dole out justice. Nuremburg might have missed you, but I won’t.” Bear’s arthritic knees popped as he wobbled to his feet. He smashed his gun into Antonio’s face, causing the withered German ex-spy to cry out in pain.

“I still love her, Rolf. That’s why this pains me. I love her as much as I hate her.” Bear turned off Lyudmila’s respirator. Antonio cried out once more, but couldn’t do anything from the confines of his chair.

Bear’s hands shook as he wrenched the hammer back on his revolver. “Die, you Nazi bastard. I’ll see you in hell.”

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Double posting to avoid an edit on my previous post (please don't probate me!):



Story submitted, an extra point for me!

sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


Awwww.

I shame my family. I shame myself. I shame the thunderdome.

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sephiRoth IRA
Jun 13, 2007

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality."

-Carl Sagan


I love this drat thread. I mean, it's given me a few black eyes, but it didn't really MEAN to hit me. Sorry for not participating recently, a combination of shame/ overly busy schedule kept me away.