Chapter 5 – voluntold evolution

Chapter 1 -Scenario green (Part 1 / Part 2); Chapter 2 -Koda Black (Part 3/ Part 4); Chapter 3 -Cricket (Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7) Chapter 4 -Parasitologistics (Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10/ Part 11)

A coughing fit tore me from the dark embrace of unconsciousness and thrust me into an electric grizzly hug. My chest hurt like somebody had a tap dance contest on top of me. The yellow steel grate on the ceiling looked familiar. Roaring and muffled banging accompanied somebody swearing.

I knew that music. Po must be cooking again. Ugh!
A helmet with a spray of red floated in front of my field of vision. Was that mine? It had “Kong” written on the top. Was that a Sharpie or blood? My head was throbbing. It must be mine then. I took a beating? Again? I hoped it was worth it. Somebody handed me my ass. Old habits died hard.
The beeping and booming were getting on my nerves, beaten up or not. I tried to listen. It was- oh, no! This was bad. The noise was a very bad alarm.

Chapter 4: parasitologistics

Chapter 1- Scenario Green: (part 1 / part 2); Chapter 2 – Koda Black ( part 3 / part 4); Chapter 3 – Cricket ( part 5 / part 6 / part 7); Chapter 4 – Parasitologistics ( part 8 / part 9 / part 10);

---

I was running low on air- too low to keep up the volume and length of my scream. These rogue frequencies were going to kill me. My head, chest, and throat burned, but I barely made progress—what a shot in the dark!

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t keep up. The pit of my stomach knotted, and I was about to become part of the problem. This sinking feeling mumbled something about dying horribly, giggled, and ran away to pluck flowers for my grave.
As if it didn’t concern me, I smiled and waved goodbye. But nobody saw that in the darkness.

The infrasound pings were continuous. “We’re leaving together, but still it’s farewell. Maybe we’ll come back to Earth, who can tell.” Big distorted cone-shaped reddish fields zeroed in on Shepherd and me. Final Count-down? It echoed in my head. “Will things ever be the same again?” Was this a count-down?
Tampo was preparing something. If it were a sonic boom, it’d mess with the whole plan. “…We’re heading for Venus…” Hot?
I had to focus.
What to do?
I was running out of time.

cloud eater

 This is a #vss365 prompt that got out of hand.

It wasn’t a magic word spoken aloud,

nor a sweet rush of chemical crutches

that made them stand out in the masses

it was the glint of blue and freedom in their eyes

all that is beyond

inspired by twitter prompt: #vss365

The silver dollar danced up and down the stranger’s fingers, tumbled from his knuckles in a brilliant flurry of bright flashes, cutting light and sticky curses.

Max was suddenly sober for the first time in twenty-three months. More even, the feeling of sleepwalking fell off of him as soon as that silver light pierced his eyes.

The presence of the coin dragged him into this bar and slammed him into that seat near the stranger. It put him back into his place. Fifty-four years old, profusely sweating, diabetic, a man without a home or family or a penny to his name – that was his place, the only one he merited. It brought back the insecurity, the impotence, the numbness in his hands and feet, the inadequacy, the being alone. There was tingling in his crotch. He saw the stains on his pants for the first time.
Finally, the coin snapped him into the present heartbeat, like a bungee cord attached to his bum ticker.

a frame to weave a story, on worldbuilding (3)

Part 1 – crucial & tedious work, on definitions

Part 2 – “X” marks the starting point, or identifying procedures

Part 3 – Genius loci & fabulae, or finding the spirit in the story

---

We all consume stories as an organic part of growing up. It is food for the mind, equally important as food for the body. So we should be equally carefully picked and checked for quality like actual food.

Dear reader, dear writer, do you remember what kind of stories you were fed?

What is the blueprint of your world? What do you believe about morals? What is right? What unwritten rules are valid in the world you live in or makeup? How do you cope with the allies/villains of your world? How do you expect them to behave? Remember the goodnight stories your parents, grandparents, or siblings told you? What kind of stories did you imagine, when you were scared at night, when the darkness seemed to move, to breathe?

I’m convinced that stories are our first language to perceive and understand the world around us. We extrapolate meaning and rules from them. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I know that I used the blueprints of stories, fairytales, history, and family anecdotes to find my place and way in this world. My family knows this hunger and made me the story keeper. Well, I made myself the keeper and collector of the family tales, tree, trauma, beliefs and traditions.

a frame to weave a story, on world building (2)

Part 1 – crucial & tedious work, definitions

Part 2 – “X” marks the starting point, or identifying procedures

Worldbuilding methods:

Before we begin, I want to share some good articles on worldbuilding that I found helpful. What you will find, are individual attempts to tackle world building. Here are some resources: Chuck Wendig, Tad Williams, Jerry Jenkins, the writing practice, vantange point, the write life, masterclass, world building school, now novel, writer’s digest, reddit.

I’m allergic to info dumps. Period.

I, as a reader, will chuck a book through the room and never open it again for spoon-feeding me information, for shoving my face into data-dumps. That’s a no-no. I don’t like it, and that’s an understatement. There is a stack of books in the shame corner, for precisely this reason. They sit in book-jail, modestly, unassuming, setting on a coat of dust, awaiting my most bottomless boredom to put up with them again.
I want the necessary details to be slipped by me effortlessly. I want subtext, secrets, hints, a literary heist happening around me, and be clueless about it. So please, dear writers, bamboozle me! That is your mission. I like your stories to immesh me, to trap me, to take me hostage.

thrill of fringe flirts

part 1 eyes in the dark

part 2 alien delights

---

NSFW, erotica

“You’re a man, dancing on the edge of a blade,” I said, nudging his nose with mine. This creature wasn’t used to be figured out, but I had an inkling of the desires he hid.”You talk like you’re saying your goodbye before you even say your hello.” The look on Terran’s face was cocky.

“You think so?” He felt on top of his game, for now. And I was here to challenge and support that feeling compellingly. Simultaneously. The smug grin betrayed him.
I knew his individuals of his kind. I seemed to attract them myself…

30st March

writing exercise, perfectly normal & mediocre

Morning coffee swapped for morning tea. I blinked.

First, it didn’t even register much. Blistering hot liquid was just the next best blistering hot liquid, the aftertaste made me do a double take.

I couldn’t have foreseen that turn of events. Really. One sip perfectly fine dark roasted wakey-wakey, and the next mouthfull it was peppermint tea. This was less than ideal. I needed my coffee. I wanted my coffee. The people around me needed me to have that morning coffee.

Chapter 4: desperate

Chapter 1: (Part 1/ Part 2) Chapter 2: (Part 3 / Part 4) Chapter 3: (Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7) Chapter 4: Part 8 / Part 9

---

If there were any crucial lessons the instructors managed to drill into my head when I was a wee private, it’d be these three evergreens:

One.

Never lose your weapon. Duh, obviously. Forming a finger-gun and screaming pew-pew at the enemy was a lot less fun than one might imagine.

Two.

There were no glory-holes worth the hustle! Trust me on this one. I won’t disclose what -uh- embarrassing mistake I made and why all rookies needed a medical check-up afterward. I planned to take that to my grave.

Three.

Never take off the fucking helmet of your spacesuit if the atmosphere wasn’t safe. And when did you know that the atmosphere was safe? When the Sergeant told you so.

Chapter 4: not a helping hand

Chapter 1: (Part 1 / Part 2) Chapter 2: (Part 3 / Part 4) Chapter 3: (Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 ) Chapter 4: Part 8

---

“NO!”
“KODA!”
“Koda! Are you alright?” Hands grabbed me and turned me sideways. “Did you let the switch go?” Something smelled burnt. My ears rang. First thing, I thrust my left fist up the dead-man switch securely in my hand, then I opened my eye. “Thank God, I thought I; you’re – here.” We locked eyes. Mother Goose kneeled in front of me, face pale, eyes shining as I’ve never seen before.

Huh, there were a lot of things I experienced for the first time today. Might be my newest hobby. I grabbed his arm, and he pulled me up and into a bear hug. Okay, unexpected, another first. Well, uh, I surprised myself by blushing hard, and you guessed it. Definitively a new hobby to show off. The heat in my chest and cheeks made my heart forget how to kick my head into gear. I drew a blank. “Attaboy,” Sam Spade waved from afar. I wasn’t sure he meant me or Mother. Awkward, but nothing to be ashamed of, just sayin’.