{"id":321,"date":"2015-03-13T03:09:26","date_gmt":"2015-03-13T07:09:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/?p=321"},"modified":"2015-03-13T03:09:26","modified_gmt":"2015-03-13T07:09:26","slug":"flash-fiction-challenge-ten-random-sentences","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/?p=321","title":{"rendered":"Flash Fiction Challenge: Ten Random Sentences"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Pumpkin<\/a>Chuck Wending’s flash fiction challenge<\/a> 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe mysterious diary records the voice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe stranger officiates the meal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe shooter says goodbye to his love.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA glittering gem is not enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe memory we used to share is no longer coherent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe old apple revels in its authority.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRock music approaches at high velocity.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSixty-Four comes asking for bread.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbstraction is often one floor above you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe river stole the gods.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

<\/p>\n

I would have loved to write story for each one of these, but I’m elbows deep in projects now. And I see a thousand ways to improve it, but time’s up so this 1000 words will have to do–for now.<\/p>\n

The Bearing House<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

One of a father undeclared<\/em>
\n Two of man who will pay his share<\/em>
\n Three to once again make mankind fair<\/em>
\n And Four, to close the door & bare no more<\/em><\/p>\n

–Bearing House nursery rhyme<\/p>\n

By the time I arrived, police cars barricaded the end of the cul-de-sac, their lights flashing in the darkness. Neighbors stood outside their doors in their bathrobes as curious shocked witness to the intrusion on their quiet, upscale neighborhood. Nothing bad happens here, far from the city gutted by depopulation and decay. I was woke as well, called out despite my inexperience and my youth because of my gender to run point on this investigation. I parked my car unmarked to the side.<\/p>\n

A uniform stopped me as I stepped between the cars. I noticed scars on his skin, masked by the uniform and the dark. He was an unpy, whose genetic inheritance was scarred by mutagenic agents let lose in the last war. Surgery was an unsuccessful attempt to correct those defects.<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss, you can\u2019t come through here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I lifted my badge to his eyes, and watched the disbelief and displeasure play across the beefy man\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

Saying nothing, I walked past. I\u2019d grown use to these kinds of looks from men who had reclaimed the dominant social role after civilization was brought to its knees. I don\u2019t care. I have no use for the role society assigned to women now, especially the women of the house I was about to enter.<\/p>\n

My father didn\u2019t approve of my choice of profession, thought it too dangerous. We argued before I went to the academy and haven\u2019t spoken much since.<\/p>\n

At the entrance of the door a staircase ran to the upper halls, to my right, a set of white French doors, swung wide open on an office. A L-shaped desk dominated, scattered papers and books strewn on its top. The long end of the desk butted into the tiled window. Behind the desk a young woman stood. One would hardly know from her plain eyes and face that this woman was recently given an award for having the most \u201cpure\u201d DNA. Hers was unmarred by mutagens.<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss LaVasseur?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the young woman said. Her voice was shaky.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry for your loss, but you shouldn\u2019t be in here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI, ah, am the one that found her,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAgain, sorry. But\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019d appreciate it if the children can be cleared from the property.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve sent them to our house in the country.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the other women?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStill here. I asked an affiliate house to help with the children until we can get there.”<\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n

At least the woman wasn\u2019t a fool.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere do you want to start, Detective\u2026?\u201d she said trying to tease out a name.<\/p>\n

\u201cJulia Watts.\u201d Her eyes widened slightly at the name. Yes, someone like her would recognize it, put two and two together.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry for your loss,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cIt was a loss for us all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t get any ideas. I\u2019ve never been a fan your industry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her lips curled up slightly. \u201cWe are a necessary evil, at least some say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you show me the area?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, of course. This way.\u201d<\/p>\n

I saw something in the woman\u2019s hands, something she tucked into pocket of her slacks, but I said nothing. There was time for questions later.<\/p>\n

Rebecca LaVasseur pointed the way to another set of French doors that led to a dining room. The antique mahogany table set was real wood, had to be three hundred years old. The area was marked off by crime tape, the area holorecorded by crime technicians and the body taken away swiftly for forensic examination.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou might not want to see this,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI found her, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded and activated the holorecording, and the prone body of an older woman shimmered then coalesced on the floor beside the table and chairs. The face was melted away. The holorecording displayed the initial findings; \u201cDeath by phase pistol.\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked through the body to get a different perspective. LaVasseur gasped as I moved easily through the faux body to get to the other side.<\/p>\n

\u201cRelax, Miss LaVasseur. it\u2019s only a projection.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not that. It\u2019s, well\u2026she is\u2026was my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said you might not want to see this. You should go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m head of the house now. It\u2019s my responsibility.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, the first child?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said her voice growing colder.<\/p>\n

I squatted down to look at the body closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid your mother have any enemies?<\/p>\n

\u201cObviously,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat you know of.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her hand fidgeted in her pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s in your pocket, Miss La Vasseur?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss LaVasseur, withholding evidence is a punishable offense. I doubt even your lawyers could keep you out of jail.\u201d<\/p>\n

Reluctantly she pulled out a leather bound journal and handed it to me. On it was embossed the seal of this house, the breeding house LaVasseur, whose sole purpose was to breed perfect humans. I opened the journal. In it a diary, but it was filled with mundane things, the list of visitors, contracts signed. But then I noticed a little button on the side. It was one of those. I flicked the button and found what I suspected. The mysterious diary recorded the voices.<\/p>\n

\u201cI could have told you that I love you,\u201d said one, a woman.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t have made a difference.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe, maybe it would.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I lied. Lied to you all along, lied to everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d said the other voice in a growl. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

The shot rang out, a gasp, the thudding of the body on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho was that?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

She hesitated, unsure.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy sire,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Great. That\u2019s why I never knew. The one person whose name never graced a breeding contract was the father undeclared. And he was Senator Ren Watts, Chairman of the House Pure Humanity Committee.<\/p>\n

My father.<\/p>\n

Photo published under a Creative Commons License used by Flickr user ihave3kids<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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. \u201cThe mysterious diary records the voice.\u201d \u201cThe stranger officiates the meal.\u201d \u201cThe shooter says goodbye to his love.\u201d \u201cA glittering gem is not enough.\u201d \u201cThe […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[17,18],"tags":[95,142,268,283],"class_list":["post-321","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction-challenges","category-flash-fiction","tag-chuck-wendig","tag-flash-fiction-challenge","tag-sf","tag-speculative-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/321","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=321"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/321\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=321"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=321"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bethturnage.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=321"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}