The Overcoming Adversity Bloghop: In Which I Write A Short Story

Nick Wilford of Scattergun Scribblings is hosting a blogfest today! From his blog:

I asked you to contribute a short story on the theme of overcoming adversity, to be compiled into an anthology to help raise funds to send my stepson to a specialist college.

More information here.

And so, here's my story, which is called "Endurance" because I can't think of anything better, regardless of how obvious it may be. Anyway. I hope you enjoy it!

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Endurance

Four thousand years and the monolith still stood. Four thousand years had seen kingdoms, empires, civilizations rise and tumble off the edge of history like water over a fall, to crash against the rocks below and the memories of them to scatter into mist. Trees had shrouded it and merged their roots with its surface; the mountain had changed, the rocks shifting and half-burying the thing like a body whose consciousness had long vanished.

   It didn’t have a name. It had always had a title, an honorific by which it was acknowledged by those same civilizations that had tried to pry it apart, to chip away at its skin until all that was left was the hole in which it had been placed.

   It wanted a name.

   It wanted to get away from the cloying aura of the past and the memories of the rituals it had endured because it could not move, to avoid the horrible worship from others that persisted, tireless, only because they could not understand it. To escape from the refusal to acknowledge all it wanted was to get out, out, out.

   Another thousand years couldn’t do too much damage. Processing time behind the wall of its shell, it decided another two thousand years would be bearable. But to feel the organisms crowding around it, even the inert, brainless ones of the trees and the grass and the fungi, that was too much. It wanted company.

   Four thousand and three hundred and twenty seven years after its memory began, it sensed a more complicated presence. It was immediately recognizable as something more advanced, one of the things in this world bigger than plants but hardly more complex.

   It waited. Those things always passed by.

   The thing touched the hard surface as though it was an egg, capable of bearing the weight of a galaxy on its end—but if one knocked it wrong, liable to spill the trauma of history onto the mountainside, an outpouring of the past assumed forgotten.

   It continued to wait. It could sense that the birds had quieted, and the wind hung close to the ground like a scared child, and the mountain had stilled.

   But . . . there was a new thing, besides the air and the trees and the mountain. The thing had somehow exposed its surface, brushing away the organic detritus that had gathered over those millennia, for once being gentle instead of trying to crack it open.

   It did not recognize sunlight. It did not recognize that new thing in the sky, hovering like its own counterpart a million miles away. It felt an unburdening, a release of four thousand years of pain.

   Perhaps the sun was supposed to be its company. It tried to communicate.

   The sun replied.

**********

Any thoughts on the story?


-----The Golden Eagle

The Cheers, Cavanaugh Blogfest

Most everyone in the blogosphere has heard of one person: Alex J. Cavanaugh.

As a way of acknowledging him, Mark Koopmans, Morgan Shamy, David Powers King, and Stephen Tremp have come up with the brilliant idea of hosting an event in his honor, called the Cheers, Cavanaugh Blogfest. I jumped on as soon as I heard about it!

Blogfest questions:

In +/- 20 words, what does Alex look like?
In +/- 20 words, who could play Alex in a documentary (living or dead)?
In +/- 20 words, who does Alex remind you of?
In +/- 100 words, (excluding the title), write flash fiction using all these prompts: Cavanaugh, Ninja, IWSG, Cosbolt, Guitar.

Rules:
- Be a Follower
- Join the Linky List
- Post your 200 word contribution (on Monday, December 10, if you would)
- Have fun!

More information available at any of the hosts' blogs.

My answers:

What does Alex look like? Satellite dishes, obviously. My theory is, his avatar is an accurate representation of alien technology used to emulate humans/infiltrate society. It's the only explanation of how he manages to write so many comments in a day, aside from clones!

Who could play Alex in a documentary (living or dead)?
Casting aside the satellite dish idea for a moment, I'd have to say Orlando Bloom.

Who does Alex remind you of?
No one. I think he's a pretty unique person; or at least, he's the only super-amazing, highly-supportive power-blogger that I've met so far!

Flash fiction piece (untitled):

"Captain Cavanaugh!"
   "No interruptions now, trainee. Be ready to launch on my mark. The Cosbolt must reach our enemy's star system in less than one hour."
   "It's the IWSG. They've left their sign on our ship, sir."
   "The shuriken?"
   "Yes, Captain. And . . . some of the crew are saying there's an IWSG Ninja on board the ship. Strange reports are coming in from all decks."
   "There's nothing we can do about it now. We have to launch; I don't care if guitar music starts blasting through the intercom, the Cosbolt is on a mission. Engineering, get us into space! And you, trainee. Before you leave, I have only one thing to say: There's only one true ninja on board this ship, and he's sitting right in front of you."

(Word count: 131)


There's also a bonus part of the blogfest, which I thought I'd include:

In +/- 40 words, leave a comment for Mrs. Cavanaugh - thanking her for sharing
Dear Mrs. Cavanaugh,
Your husband is amazing, and a great thank you is owed for the personal sacrifices you must make due to Mr. Cavanaugh's blogging. So, thank you! And may you both live long and prosper.



-----The Golden Eagle

Second Campaigner Challenge Of The Fourth Campaign

The Platform-Building Campaign was started by Rachael Harrie from Rach Writes...

I highly recommend checking out her blog; and if you don't know what the Campaign is all about, in very short form it's to bring bloggers/writers together. Learn more HERE.

About this Second Campaigner Challenge:

***If you know this stuff already, you can cut to the chase by scrolling to the line of asterisks.***

Prompt 1:

Two people are sitting together under the remains of a concrete bridge. Their backs are against a rusted bridge support. One person’s leg is cut. The other person has wet hair.

Prompt 2:

(Source)

Prompt 3

(Source)

Prompt 4

(Source)

Prompt 5

(Source)

Second Campaigner Challenge

Do one or more of the following:

1. Write a pitch/logline for a book based on the prompts (less than 100 words)
2. Write a short story/flash fiction piece of less than 200 words based on the prompts
3. Write a poem with a twist using the prompts as inspiration (in less than 200 words)
4. Write a story/poem in five sentences, each sentence based on one of the prompts
5. Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.

For added difficulty/challenge:

• Complete at least three of the above activities and tie them all together with a common theme (feel free to either state the theme in your post or leave us to guess what it might be)
• Write in a genre that is not your own
• Ask Challenge entrants to critique your writing. After the Challenge closes, you may wish to re-post your revised piece(s), and I’ll include a Linky List at the bottom of this post for those wishing more feedback on their revisions (note: revised entries will not be judged, so please label clearly your original post and your revisions. Please do not offer critique unless someone asks for it, as per the usual blogging conventions. If you do ask for critique, make sure you ask for it clearly so people know you want it, and please be prepared to receive feedback that may not be 100% glowing. If you are a critiquer, please be tactful and courteous, and remember to provide positives as well as negatives.)

********************

“That didn’t blow up easily, did it?”

   I laughed, though it was mostly out of nervous tension instead of amusement.

   Noticing a small trickle of blood oozing across the ground toward my leg, I asked, “You okay with that cut?”

   Xayne shrugged. “It’ll heal. You sure you ain’t gonna catch a cold, being all wet like that?”

   “Yeah.”

   He leaned back against one of the few remaining supports, and I saw a few pieces of rust fall into his hair as he hit the corrugated surface.

   Someone squealed.

   “Stupid kids,” Xayne muttered, closing his eyes.

   I craned upwards to see a group of children already exploring the scraps of bridge left behind from the blast. I felt like shouting a warning as a particularly brazen one walked too close to the edge, but an older boy hauled him away.

   Xayne said a moment later, “Think he’ll get the message?”

   “If an exploding bridge ain’t enough, then he’s even more insane than the Leader thinks he is. Which would mean we’re in pretty deep.”

   “Thought that was already established.”

   “True. Sending a lethal, acidic pear simulacrum to the hospital disguised as a food donation was damned low.”

Stats:

Used Prompt 1, Prompt 2, Prompt 3, and Prompt 4 

Flash fiction under 200 words (196)

And now, to choose an "added difficulty/challenge", I'm going to ask you to critique my entry. I probably won't post the revised one, but it would great to know what you think. Don't spare my feelings, either--rip away. :)

I'm #81 on the Linky List.


-----The Golden Eagle

The First Campaigner Challenge of the Fourth Campaign

From the host Rachael Harrie's blog:

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “Shadows crept across the wall”. These five words will be included in the word count. 

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), do one or more of these:

• end the story with the words: "everything faded." (also included in the word count)

• include the word "orange" in the story

• write in the same genre you normally write

• make your story 200 words exactly!

Shadows crept across the wall.

   Terren, sitting on the chill marble floor, tried to ignore the shadows creeping across his shoulders as well. He knew he should focus on the orange object in his hands, the hot smoldering thing he’d been told to steal, but the dragging sensation of the spirits hidden within those shadows kept his eyes and body shifting every few moments.

   “You shouldn’t have taken it.”

   Terren nearly dropped the object in his hands as he shoved off the floor, his feet skidding along its smooth dark surface.

   “Who’s there?” he almost shouted, overcompensating for the fear he felt, the nervousness that was born from guilt and shame deep in his heart.

   “Me.”

   A girl stepped out from behind a stone column, her slippers barely making a sound as she walked toward him. The moonlight shafting in through the windows above hit her face at hard, harsh angles and Terren shifted backwards as she held up a pale hand.

   “Sorceress,” he murmured, as the shadows moved away from his shoulders to seep across the floor and twirl around her skirts, pooling into a gray squirming mass above her palm.

   “They’re hungry, Terren,” she said. “So hungry.”

Stats:

Included the word "orange"

200 words exactly

Fantasy is a genre I commonly write in (though SF is the most common)

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What do you think of my entry? (#175 on the Linky List of Campaign Challenge participants.)

-----The Golden Eagle

Insecure Writer's Support Group: Reading What Came Before

For the last blogfest I participated in, I remembered a character I'd used in a previous flash fiction challenge. Since I thought there was potential in writing from her perspective again, I went back and opened the file for the story, just to refresh my memory.

Oh, horror.

There were typos, the plot was odd, and the overall tone was just ridiculous. The character sounded too young, parts of what she said didn't make sense, and I really should have cut to the chase a bit faster.

That's what usually happens when I read something I haven't thought about for long, or didn't spend a lot of time editing. Some of my writing I can look at without cringing, but the rest of it . . . well, the rest of it shouldn't see the light of day. In fact, I'd be happy if it tumbled into a deep underground abyss that I'd forgotten the location of.

I try to avoid running into this. That's why you'll find me pre-writing flash fiction posts a day or several days before the actual event--or at least trying to. (The above example was written on a bit of inspiration and posted the same day.) That's also why the idea of having a a critique partner read chapters as they come out (which, I gather, some people do) scares me. I rarely if ever write something good on the first try.

Does this happen to you? How do you make sure what you write one day won't seem completely out of whack the next? And do you ever read your own writing for fun?

**********

Also, I'm guest posting today at Stuart Nager's blog Born Storyteller, about creativity. I hope you'll stop by!

-----The Golden Eagle

The Imago Has Finally Been Found—Or Not (Second Campaigner Challenge)

Jing strolled along the skyway, three hundred feet above the stifling masses. The city was an unending cacophony of sound, a ceaseless barrage of sights—and the smells, from the miasma of the poorest neighborhoods to the perfumed compounds of the rich, were enough to make your head spin.

   Coming from a backwater where time seemed to oscitate and nothing changed, Jing felt he had more of a right to be bowled over by the city than anyone else, to find it overwhelming. Yet the more he explored its corners, watched the city-goers—even spoke to them—he felt there was a lacuna.

   In his hometown you knew everything there was to know, both present and past, and it oppressed him; here, all you passed were strangers and unknowns.

   Jing stopped and leaned against the side rail, pressing his head to the clear glass. He stared at the city below.

   The synchronicity of the aerocars, buses, pedestrians—it all felt orchestrated by some grand designer who’d decided spontaneity was evil.

   The city had energy, but no soul, and nothing it did mirrored his own mind.

   He straightened.

   So.

   Off it was to yet another city, in another galaxy, for another try.

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About this challenge:

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

• include the word "imago" in the title
• include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity,"

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post.

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY!

My piece is exactly 200 words, includes all four random words, has "imago" in the title, and I referenced a mirror. Also, the character's name--Jing--means mirror in Mandarin Chinese.

What do you think? If you enjoyed this piece, I would greatly appreciate it if you went over to THIS POST and clicked "like" for my entry, #137 in the linky list.

-----The Golden Eagle

The First Campaigner Challenge: 200 Word Flash Fiction

The First Challenge in Rachael Harrie's Third Platform-Building Campaign has arrived!

Well, okay, it arrived on Monday, but entries can be submitted until today, Friday. I just didn't have space for it this earlier in the week.

So, what is the challenge?

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY!

I love challenges. And yes, mine is EXACTLY 200 words!

Mission: Alpha

The door swung open and Jim tumbled out.

   Head over heels! Heels over head! Keep turning and don’t stop to look, he told himself—

   —or Captain’ll whip you one and you’ll be shamed in front of all your mates—

   Got to focus.

   Jim felt the g-force as he fell, the sky and earth spinning light and dark, air resistance dragging on his body.

   Timer almost to zero—

   Deploy glider! Press the button, Jim!

   HISS!

   Jim gripped handlebars that snapped in front of him, soared up, up, up.

   Heard shouting through the com: “Got a grip, Jimmy?”

   “I got it, man.”

   “Good!  ‘Cause we’re in for a doozy.”

   Isn’t it always that way?

   Jim wouldn’t take an alternative. Nothing beat the plunge from hovercraft to ground on missions. Missions that were—technically—top-secret operations headed by the lead negotiator, the woman trying to keep humanity alive.

   Since aliens wanted it eliminated.

   “Ready, Jimmy? We’re goin’ down in three . . .”

   Jim readied his glider’s engines.

   “. . . two . . . one!”

   Above, the hovercraft rose as its operatives disappeared into the mountains. The pilot realized he’d left it open—Captain’d be mad—and the door swung shut.

(SOURCE)

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What do you think? If you really like it, and feel it's worth mention, I'd love it if you went over to the Linky List and clicked "like" below my entry. I'm under the name Golden Eagle, number 367.


And if you have posted your entry, please mention it! I want to read yours.


-----The Golden Eagle

Crusader Challenge

The goldfish bowl teetered.
   The wolves howled in the distance and the raptor shrieked overhead. The wind blew softly and the grass swished in its wake.
   The goldfish bowl slid closer to the edge.
   The river splashed across the rocks. The fish swam among the ripples, flashing bright in the night's darkness. The trees creaked, their branches dipping low and swinging high.
   The goldfish bowl began to fall.
   The wolves began to run, heading for their destination. The raptor spiraled upward, then dived toward a target only it could see.
   The goldfish bowl shattered.
   All was quiet.

*****

To find out more about this Crusader Challenge, or if you want to visit the others also participating, go HERE.


-----The Golden Eagle