This week’s chapter is another of Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge this time titled Ten More Sentences; Round Two. That’s self explanatory. You should be able to read this as a stand alone, but let me know if you can’t. 🙂
TO FORBIDDEN PASSENGERS
In the end, they ran. The group of them, now four, when before they were three, were spotted by one of the slavers as they slipped from the maze of cages that had held their prize. This was the young man they had stolen to conscript as crew on their ship.
The young man they “rescued” stayed close, his legs pumping as hard as theirs under the blazing white sun of a planet who life expectancy was comparatively short. But humans resided on it now, low and crass as this class was, and they only cared about the air, water and sunlight on it. It was a haven in the vastness of a Universe that served up few of the necessities of life.
But right now, Arekan’s and his fellows necessity was to make their ship, board it, and hope to hell that the captain or the pilot could make way before an Oshijian Empire war cruiser could shoot the pirate ship out of the black.
But the run was difficult. It was hot, humid and the air a touch too thin for physical exertion. But more than that the predations of life aboard the pirate ship—his ship, thought Arekan regretfully—took a toll on his body. He gasped for breath as his legs pumped against gravity that was a full half gee above what the captain set for gravity on the ship. And that little economy move, Arekan realized now, weakened his body.
No wonder the others didn’t want to leave the pirate ship.
Dissolute gits. (Click to read more)
Image by Starry Night Graphix
Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction challenge was to pick one of ten titles and write a story to it. At first, my inner muse said “write something pretty,” but then that old dog, Arekan whispered, “You’d been looking for a entree into the next chapter of Pirate’s Luck.” Though it is part of the larger work, I’ve tried to make it as standalone as possible. So, here is the next chapter of Pirate’s Luck. Warning: Adult themes though more a suggestion than action.
Discount Skin Ticket
The main drag of the spaceport town flashed and jittered with bright lights, blinking signs and sharp sounds that sprang from nowhere. Walking side by side to Arekan, Obon gawked at the women and boys standing or sitting seductively behind their plasglass windows. One young boy licked his lips salaciously as the men of the Rogan walked by.
“We should grab that one,” said Obon. “He’d be fun.”
“So you like boys?” said Egren who stood on Arekan’s left.
Obon shrugged. “I like them all. A touch of skin, whiff of their hair, tasting them.”
The Rogan’s crewmember ran his tongue across his lips and Arekan shivered. Unlike many of his shipmates, Obon was a pirate born into the trade. That he crewed on the shitehole of the Rogan was a testament to his degenerate nature.
(Click here to read more)
Image by Starry Night Graphix.
Note: I wrote the following piece for a Fantasy Writer’s.org monthly challenge three years ago. I haven’t found a market for it, so I’m publishing it here for Winter Solstice. There is a little fantasy/science fiction mix here, so bear with me. I’ve always like this story and whenever I read it–well, you’ll see.
THE INATTENTIONS OF MR. WEATHERBY
In advance of the coming cold front, thick flakes swirled and hit the muddy street. Ari’s boots slipped in the mud and the thin coating of melting snow. Her basket in hand, she looked up as the flying ice batted her eyes. She pulled up her scarf over her nose and pushed on, making her way to the little store before her. The storefront was dark, but whether it was because Mr. Weatherby closed the store early, or the sudden storm dampened the light of the sun, she did not know.
She pushed at the door, and it yielded, opening on the slight warmth of an enclosed space holding back the greater cold of the outside world. There was a fireplace off to the left, but it was not lit. The rafters were dark from a lack of light in the shop. She stomped her feet before she entered loosening some of the mud from her boots.\
“Weatherby,” she called.
Typically, there was no answer. She often remarked he was the worst storekeeper ever, but Weatherby would only scoff.
“I’m here, aren’t I? No one else would supply this sad sack little town.”Continue reading #WinterSolstice #Fiction: The Inattentions of Mr. Weatherby
Arekan kicked out his leg and clocked the intruder in the jaw. The man staggered back, sword in hand, but he did not fall. His gaze fixed on Arekan with a murderous expression.
“I’ll kill you,” the pirate growled.
“Better men have tried,” said Arekan with more bravado than he felt. “But you are welcome to give it a go.”
The man’s face turned a beet red as he pushed himself toward Arekan, his sword pointed toward the nineteen year old. As the man’s sword came within Arekan’s reach, the youth stepped to the man’s left, away from the man’s dominant arm, whipped around in a full three hundred and sixty degree turn, and slashed man’s torso. The man halted in his tracks, and then tottered falling to the deck groaning and bleeding. As miserable as the man looked and sounded Arekan could have aimed higher and severed the man’s neck.
(click here to read more) or click here to start with Chapter One.
Art by Starry Night Graphixs
Let him die.
“He did not just say that,” said Arekan. He knew the first mate was a hard man, but he didn’t think Grokin would be cold hearted enough to let a member of his crew die.
“I’m afraid so,” said Egren. He had pressed a button at his neck on his spacesuit, and Arekan could not hear Grokin. “Our first mate has a ‘let ‘em take prisoners’ policy. It deters those that try to use extortion to get our goods.”
“Creator,” muttered Arekan. He peered out over the edge of the hatch to see Obon clutching the swaying tether. “We need to get him up here.”
“That’s exactly what those pirates want. They’ll be right in back of him to board this ship with us too afraid of killing our own man to do anything about it.”
(click here to read on) or go here to read the first chapter of the serial.
Image by Starrynight Graphix.
Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge calls for the use of a dragon in the story I have a couple flash stories with dragons, but here is a very short one.
Departure-The Dragon’s Drama
With a powerful down sweep of his wings Langir rose up and off the cliff. He caught a thermal draft, and soared higher toward the orange sun, taking deep breaths to fight off oxygen deprivation. No one else dared to fly so high, and he bugled his triumph as the air drafts pushed against his wings taking him higher.
The sun beat down on his leathery skin, sending a warm rush through his body. It was almost too warm, he was almost too high, but he wanted all of them to see. He wouldn’t take Senlia’s slight laying down.Continue reading #FlashFiction Challenge: Departure-The Dragon’s Drama
Author: We are happy to have with us today, Arekan Mor’a’stan, the main character in two science fantasy serials, Arekan’s War and the newest, Pirate’s Luck. He also has a supporting role in The Mor’a’stani Chronicles, the series of full-length books about his daughter, B’yetishen Mor’a’stan. Thank you, Arekan for being here today.
Arekan: (irritably) Why are we doing this?
Author: We are participating in Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge where we are to present a piece of up to one thousand words representative of social media. We are doing a blog interview.
Arekan: What is a Chuck Wendig and what do I have to do kill it? For that matter, what is a social media? Can I run my sword through it?
Author: (In an urgent hushed whisper) You aren’t killing anyone or anything today.
Arekan: And what in the seven hells is a blog? Sounds like something that happens after you drink one too many at the tavern. “Oh gods , I, uh, I’m going to blllooooggghh.” Continue reading #FlashFiction Challenge: A Blog Interview With Arekan Mor’a’stan
Chuck Wendig gave us ten titles, one thousand words and one week to post on his latest flash fiction challenge. Here’s mine:
The Incubus’ Tale
“Still, if some are occasionally begotten from demons, it is not from the seed of such demons, nor from their assumed bodies, but from the seed of men, taken for the purpose; as when the demon assumes first the form of a woman, and afterwards of a man; just so they take the seed of other things for other generating purposes.”~Saint Thomas Aquinas
The wind rushed unrelenting over the parched land whirling the topsoil into a stinging whorl of fine sand and I hang back into the door jam. The sound of it was horrible, like the wail of demons joining in an awful chorus. I’ve shivered and gathered my cloak around me.
But I stand in quiet vigil. There was a note on my table by the gray stone fireplace. It said, “I will be there soon. Wait.”Continue reading Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: The Incubus’ Tale
Chuck Wendig posted his most impossible challenge of all:
Grab 1000 words of your NaNoWriMo work-in-progress (or, really, even if you’re not participating, any WIP of yours), and slap those 1000 words online for all to see.
Eeek. I mean, I’m just not ready to do that. It’s still working, foaming in the vat of writerly inspiration, not quite ready for public inspection. Instead I give you the first thousand words of Forced Labor, which I’m happy with.
I don’t know though. My twenty-eight year old middle son read the first four hundred words and thought it was pretty cool. (I didn’t know he picked up a copy.) But he has been too busy to read the rest of it. How do you get too busy to read your mother’s work? There is no good excuse. Ahem.
Forced Labor (2/3’s of First Chapter)
Arekan sat on his narrow bunk in the bowels of the aging space vessel stitching his forearm. It was a nasty gash, but nothing unusual for him. It would be just one more scar in the litany of scars that scored his body. He winced as he threaded the needle into his flesh, wishing he had liquor in him before he did this.Continue reading Chuck Wendig’s Newest Challenge: First 1,000 Words
Chuck Wending’s flash fiction challenge was to pick one of ten random sentences and write a story incorporating it. The sentences were great and it was hard to chose one.
“The mysterious diary records the voice.”
“The stranger officiates the meal.”
“The shooter says goodbye to his love.”
“A glittering gem is not enough.”
“The memory we used to share is no longer coherent.”
“The old apple revels in its authority.”
“Rock music approaches at high velocity.”
“Sixty-Four comes asking for bread.”
“Abstraction is often one floor above you.”
“The river stole the gods.”
Continue reading Flash Fiction Challenge: Ten Random Sentences