“I admit, it was a kneejerk reaction,” John shivered. We were both nearly naked and dripping wet. The dive I took into the frozen lake was an accident, and John did his best to rescue me. He had a conscience after all. It was his fault that I broke in, in the first place. So he pulled me out, brought me back to the mansion. The blanket I had on my shoulders started itching. I hoped his itched as well. Continue reading “bruises”
The rock wall flew past. I clawed at it. The climbing harness dug into my thighs and waist, yanked me back. I felt Nick’s dead weight pulling under me. “Don’t let go!” I yelled, but a gust took my voice. I swung out of control.
My nastiest hangover is mainly the minister’s fault.
Unlike any usual stiff diplomatic, Minister Kagekamui is an outstanding man, with more secrets up his sleeve, than stars in the sky.
He catches me one winter night, at a poker table, with the foxes and the tanuki. It is the middle of my underground shift, and I’m supposed to be on the watch for rogue magical entities, not playing transformation poker with them. But it is such a beautiful night, and Consul Kitsune has his 31st birthday party. Continue reading “Hangover (M.E.L.)”
– 1 –
I slouched on my bunk and stared at the ceiling hologram revolve. It was the boiling ocean throwing itself against the rocks of some shore. It was Kageshima’s time to watch the sea. In about one hour I would change it to the starry night sky over the Sonoran Desert. This was relax time, after a 25 hour shift on the transporter taking us to the mining regions in the asteroid belt.
With us I meant, Ivanov, Rico, Kageshima and me. Captain Rizzo would remain on board. Five men wedged into a tin can floating through the black emptiness of the space, heading towards some expensive rocks and dirt. The journey we just started would take seven months. Continue reading “almost friends”
A Chuck Wendig prompt - create a character
Ah, is this gonna be one of those interviews? I’ll have none of that. Thanks.
Of course I know what you wanna ask! ‘Sex, age, job, full name and shoe size? Pimples on my ass?’ Well?
I’m a time traveller. Obviously. Did I just stutter? Could you stop wasting my time? You know what?
Shut up! I’ll talk. I tell you something people never ask. I travel through time. Yes. I sounds insanely badass and mysterious, but it’s horrible.
I can’t shake off the wooziness. I’m nauseous nearly all day. Can’t eat or drink too much, cause I throw up. I have to eat a lot of sweets, so my brain doesn’t crash after a jump.
My hands shake whenever I get stressed, and I’m stiff in the morning. Not the good kind of stiff. My cold joints hurt, my back aches and it stops when I’m moving. So I have to move. Constantly.
I have to run, jog so I can walk properly.
Nightmares are my routine.
How’d you feel, if you’d forget your daughter’s first steps, or her birth? Yes, I’ve been there. Seen her, laughed with her, hugged her, nuzzled with her and sucked in her sweet scent… Tell me, would you trade those memories? For money? For some egomaniacs, who plays war-safari and kill, without risks? Cause they’ve got privilege, ‘n enough money to buy themselves the right to kill people.
I want to throw up, every time I see one of those sleek suits.
It’s a disease. The doctors call it temporal multi-sensorial memory runaway. A special kind of retrograde amnesia.
But you’ve heard of time traveller’s disease, haven’t you?
There you go. Now do something with that!
A Chuck Wendig Prompt - create a character (about 250 words) Hint: The man answering the phone is Steve Garner.
“`Llo?” The man answering the phone sounds drained. His crumpled voice seeps through the landline.
“Hi. I am Vincent.”
“So?” Drowsiness dissipates slowly, “nobody’s perfect.”
“You’re looking for me.”
“Am I?” A soft slapping noise in the distance, “enlighten me. Please.”
“Do you remember Mr. Stanculescu and his two daughters?” Vincent waits for a response. No recognition on the other end, so he continues, “you know, the strange girl with the red mane and green eyes, one missing upper incisor? Was all over the newspapers.” Nothing. “The one legged kid, who disappeared for three days?” Silence. “The cabin at Lake Eden?”
“Oh. Lake Eden! Of course!” The voice tightens, picks up momentum and rhythm. “I remember laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, just imagine that. A one legged kid hopping around on the shore and the woods, like an oversized toad– ”
“I brought her back.” The amused chuckle fades into stunned silence.
“You? You– ” The man stutters in disbelief, “did that?” A sharp clacking sound echoes. Porcelain hitting porcelain, or maybe teeth hitting teeth. “How fast can you be here?Where can we meet?”
“You remember him now, huh? He says it’s important…”
“Yes, absolutely.” The breathed voice cracks. It is a bit too fast, for someone still needing to negotiate a fee. The man proceeds to attack. “May I invite you? No limits, just tell me what you need. A room, a flight, cars, booze, women… Men. You name it.”
part 0.01 - part 0.02
“I got you a blanket, so you won’t freeze.“ Steve smiles and hands Tom a grey woolen cover.
Already half undressed, Tom furrows his brows. He stops mid motion, shoe laces around his fingers. “It looks scratchy. I’m hungry and it’s freezing.“ He looks at Steve’s face and stops again, irked. “Don’t stare like that!“
“Like I was a T-bone steak, ‘n you hungry… It’s awkward.“ Continue reading “The Cassandra Concept”