- second draft of my assignment, eh – still not it…
- here is the first draft
I update my feed: Natsume’s companion (&) ship. Not to brag, but this is pretty popular revlog on the iView Flash Network, and I’m a pretty popular Flash celebrity. My 6 mill followers say so. As a pro android tester, I’ve gotten myself quite a reputation.
Valentine Goddess Maiden Cafe Ueno is next. Limited possibilities, limited time, limitless fun. Not stopping for any taboos, or whimsical second thoughts. I take them all the way.
Continue reading “test costumer 2”
This is the first draft for a submission. ’bout 300 words, sci-fi, the spirit of Valentine’s Day should be present. But…well, I dunno. Any thoughts?
1) Test customer
„I’m not made to understand. Natsume. Kun. I’m made to be in love with.“ She giggles with her mellow voice.
„This is true.“ Sweet dialogue design. Five stars. I note on the life review feed. My follower number jumps above 50 k. Nice! I sip my drink. The rich dark scent of warm cocoa floods my palate, texture delightfully creamy. Hot chocolate. Like, no- better heart. Four stars. Her voice hub designer is an artist. Voice hub design: five stars. I bet she could purr me to satisfaction. A very pleasant picture of the Valentine Goddess.
The waitress, dressed as a maiden, brings us a piece of strawberry velvet cake, made to look like a cartoon heart. „I’m sorry to have kept you. The love special, for our lovers. Best wishes from the staff at Valentine Goddess Maiden Cafe Ueno.“ She chirps heartwarmingly and bows. They should cut the adds. After all, this is just a Cafe with companion androids.
„This is my favorite! How did you know?“ My Valentine Goddess asks with astonishment. Her surprise is programmed with brows shooting up, bright flashy smile, wet glistening in her dark blue eyes. Facial expressions pretty basic, a bit overdone. They call this high facial expression mode.
„It’s my favorite too.“ I beam at her. She gasps.
„No way! This is fate! We are made for each other!“ A bit pathetic, but men will go crazy. It’d be charming if she could eat though… I look at the display of my mobile. Fifteen minutes left with my Valentine Goddess.
At the base of my iView screen in my glasses, my bank account shows a fat plus of 70 000 Yen. Not bad for ten minutes work.
My name isn’t Roxana. My parents went with it until my birth, but then they saw me, and you know. Things took a different turn. I’m a survivor in many different ways.
I survived: strangers, people I knew well, people I loved, people I trusted, separate crashes with Mother Nature, different crashes with roaring mechanical creatures, my dark notions, a revolution, an exile, and redemption. So far, I counted three worlds collapsing upon me, dragging me down into dust and despair. Continue reading “not-roxana”
I stood in the long, long line for the single opened cashier’s desk.
The monotone ‘beep’ of the scanned items pulsated through the air, sticky with the scent of mushy tomatoes and overripe pineapples.
I had a loaf of bread and a jug of orange juice wedged under each of my armpits. In one hand, I balanced a box with six eggs, with the other I tried to hold unto my keys and the slippery bottle of olive oil. Continue reading “no name # 1”
a Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge - here
The shopwindow was white. It kept snowing. Wouldn’t stop anytime soon. I had to clean it away as fast as possible. Long time since I saw anything else than winter. Actually it’s been snowing nearly daily since the …thing. And the thing was a freak weather event, that’s what the telly said.
Some months ago I met an actual meteorologist. He said, it was an unnatural event, with it’s center above the North Atlantic Ocean, somewhere between Greenland and Canada. He was on his way up there, to see with his own eyes. Babbled something about a military experiment – a great heap of steaming nonsense, but he was a customer.
He bought a great deal of ropes and alpine gear from me, some supplies too. He asked about dogsleds, so I pointed him to Charlie, in Egg Harbor. Left me a lot of money and propane coupons, good for three months. Mary was delighted with the coupons, but she had to go shopping with the money right away. One day, we waited too long and we could only buy half of the goods we could have, the day before. A mistake not to happen twice.
So while Mary went shopping, I went to meet Charlie and Walt. We had a private little business to keep our supplies stocked. Walt got in some great loot. We won’t have problems for the coming half year.
a Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge (240 w) here
I plucked out a thin thread from the empty space in front of me.
With a gentle pull, I rotated my index around it. Slowly. With elliptical movements, carefully not to rip it. Always the same, always one thread at the time. I tugged at the fabric of destiny, twirled it between my thumb and index, till it became solid. Not one resisted my hands. I made a ball, in the size of my fist.
It looked like hair, made of pure moonlight. I remembered its glow, when I was still able to see, but that was long ago.
Somewhere around me, on the limestone tiles of the room, there must be over ten thousand orbs of glowing silver.
Decades passed, and what I did, I did every day. Since I got blind, I only imagined, when one day began and when it ended. The only constant occurrences were the food. They always send a child with the food, once a day – probably – always a different child.
But that wasn’t my concern.
My duty was to eliminate the uncertain futures, by pulling the alternative destiny patterns out of the tissue of time. I obliterated parallel events out of the myriads of possibilities. The run in the fabric collapsed the unwanted realities on its own. I only hooked the critical event and tugged, till I felt the cold sigh of perishing on my face.
a Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge (208 words) here
I sat at my tiny table, a cup of hot green tea in one hand. The table was perched at the northern corner, on my two square meter balcony. Seventeenth story. The wind was icy, but I had great view. A view other people payed for: to my right, the blueish white blotch of Mount Fuji, to my left, the soft silvern gleaming of the ocean.
Around my apartment building the beads of streetlights and headlights of cars stretched as pulsating arteries of Tokyo. Although it was only about four o’clock pm, it was dark already. The stars and the full moon hid behind thick grey clouds. This January evening brought the scent of snow.
As the first flakes drifted by, I caught a glimpse of movement. Finally! It was the ghost light of a fox, heading this way. What trouble will you cause, my friend?
As His Majesties first Magician at Court, I had to keep the spiritual peace in the city. A mischievous little fox meant nothing good. They kept sticking their noses into the emperor’s business.
I thought of my tea. Really, it was a sin to let it cool out, but I had work to do.
a Chuck Wendig prompt (245 words)- here
It’s starting to snow. Got the lighter ready in my hand, just about to spit sparks and flames. My cig catches fire.
I’m waiting for Ira at the entrance of his apartment building. He’s supposed to show up forty minutes ago. He isn’t answering his phone either.
It’s not that he wants to be picked up, or something… I walk him down to the theater cause he gets mugged. The first couple of times he goes on his own, he gets beat up, robbed, and a car hits him. Not good showing up with a bloody nose and a black eye, when being the lead.
Theater folk is superstitious. He’s jinx. So they pay me to get him safely to the rehearsals.
Ira says he’s cursed. Bullshit! That’s what I say, but I’m only the janitor. One time I ask about his bad luck. He says, it’s his gramps fault.
One day, him being a toddler, he wanders off and disappears in the woods.
They can’t find him. For three days. They are about to give up, when a huge white crow appears. His gramps shoots that bird. Where it falls to the ground, they find him. Unconscious. Hurt.
He shows me his chest, pulling the neck of his T-shirt down. A small circular snow white scar flashes on his breastbone.
He gives me a grave look. His gramps taints his destiny that day.
He can’t fly away from trouble anymore.
a Chuck Wendig prompt (209 w)- here
I pulled the car into a parking lot, and killed the motor. My head was spinning, since I left the highway.
My forehead touched the steering wheel. It’s cool soothed my headache. The long wooden mask, I bought hours ago, sat beside me in the passenger seat. It’s dry hair was made of some kind of weed, smelt of rain and mud.
“Breathe.” The words fell into my lap. I obeyed, slowly forcing the air in and out of my lungs, counting. One. Inhale. Two. Hold air in. One. Exhale. Two. Keep air out. One. Inhale.
I sat up and threw the driver’s door open. My head and stomach felt hot, my hands and feet were icy. I tried to keep the blazing sun out of my eyes, by squeezing them shut. It didn’t help.
The murmur of the river seemed too distant, although I parked directly at the shore. Steps approached, sloshed through mud. Something wet touched my cheek. My eyes flew open. A man had his cold hand on my forehead. The bright made it impossible to see his face. I felt better, though.
“Finally. Took you long enough to get here.” I knew that voice. He sounded like me.
a chuck wendig prompt (204 words) - here
I had my notebook and a pencil safely tucked away in my parka. A glance at my wrist showed it was 9:30 pm. Right on time, this time at least… I relied on the weather report, which said no snow, no rain.
Between Houston Street, Canal Street and South Ferry Station was something I dubbed the Triangle of Uncanny. I’ve been down here for nearly a weird week, every night. I’ve been exploring the streets, the parks towards the Hudson, taking notes. Today was Teardrop Park on schedule.
The triangle… That thing kept spitting out huge dark figures, gestalten, weird shops, I never was able to located during the day. The empty streets were as inviting as ever. That never failed to get the writing juice flowing. I heard the Hudson ahead, licking at the piers and walls of River Terrace.
A young girl, not older than twelve stood at the entrance of the park, waiting for me. Her straight dark was hair tied back, her bright sand colored eyes beamed at me. “Welcome to the moonlight market, pilgrim. Password. Please.” She smiled a broad, nearly friendly smile.
“Uh…” I said, and remembered what that hobo screamed at me. “Uhm…BookFeet?”