Tagged: scifi

2013 Holiday Prompt

In this special holiday edition, the stichomancy prompt phrases were all taken from Christmas carols. Jen and Kent both tackled the same set, with markedly different results. Whose do you prefer?

  • so lively and quick
  • dashing through the snow
  • he began to dance around
  • tis the season to be jolly
  • nine ladies dancing
  • when we finally kiss goodnight

k-avatarKent’s take:

“I forgot these things were so lively and quick,” Herb remarked, drawing a bead on one of the creatures dashing through the snow in the clearing.

“And I forgot they bite! Ow!” exclaimed Remmy as he began to dance around holding one boot up out of the deep drifts, a creature dangling from the toe.

Herb chuckled, prompting Remmy to ask him with some vehemence just what was so damn funny.

“Oh, nothing. Just, tis the season to be jolly, I suppose,” drawled Herb in reply.

Remmy shook the xenopod loose and stomped it, muttering about better times before the invasion. “I’ve had enough for one day. Let’s go get drunk at the Nine Ladies Dancing. I’ll buy.”

“Okay,” Herb said. “I’d like to see that sweet little barmaid again anyway.” Herb’s opinions on the invasion were slightly more mixed. “When we finally kiss goodnight, I’ll find out what those suckers on her tongue feel like.”

bonus points for using them in order!

 

by jenJen’s take:

My blind date with Bertram started out well enough. I found him to be so lively and quick-witted that I was able to overlook his unfortunate ears. I thought him quite galant when he offered to pay for dinner, but halfway through the meal he began to dance around in his seat like he had to pee. Then he grumbled at our waiter, “It’s winter, dude! Tis the season to be jolly well sozzled so you don’t notice the cold! Bring me a yard of Schnapps! And one for the lady.”

He finished his shots in record time, and most of mine, all the while telling the tale of a bachelor party he’d recently attended where there were no fewer than nine ladies dancing naked. I was unimpressed.

Bertram’s fate was sealed when he said to me, “Hey babe, when we finally kiss goodnight, I’m going to slip you the tongue.”

Horrified, I left him at the table and went dashing through the snow and wind all the way to the subway station so he couldn’t follow me home.

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As Winifred Sat Nervously in the Examination Room

  • by jenwearing a neatly trimmed beard
  • like most parents
  • Apparently you know Mr Scroggins
  • almost eerily quiet
  • a secret I can’t discuss
  • license plate number of the truck
  • a product of artificial insemination
  • almost as tall as the diving platform

As Winifred sat nervously in the examination room, her mind was filled by the license plate number of the truck driven by her abductors – XYZ 3499 – over and over in a loop.

The entire facility she now found herself in was almost eerily quiet, even though it was fully staffed with medical and military personnel.

A bald man wearing a neatly trimmed beard entered the room without knocking. Following was a tall man Winifred recognized immediately. The bald man saw her look of surprise and said, “Apparently you know Mr Scroggins.”

“It’s hard not to notice him around town,” said Winifred. “He’s almost as tall as the diving platform at the YMCA.”

Both men chuckled.

“You may well wonder why we’ve brought you here,” said Mr Scroggins.

Winifred nodded.

“Like most parents in this situation, yours did not want you to know you are a product of artificial insemination.”

Winifred gasped. It was surprising news, but did help explain a comment her mother had once made: “I have a secret I can’t discuss with you or your father.”

The bald man interrupted her memory. “Your mother thought she was inseminated with the sperm of a Nobel Laureate. Unfortunately this was not the case…”

He let the ominous sentence hang there and Winifred’s imagination raced.

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Fictional Fiction

r-avatarJen and Kent work hard to blend their writing styles into a seamless Rune Skelley voice. Rune Skelley, though, is not content with a single voice.

Each of our books has called for the inclusion of writings by authors in the story’s fictional universe, and we’ve had a marvelous time differentiating those voices. The fictional authors have writing styles that don’t sound like Rune Skelley. Neither do they sound like Jen, or Kent. Or like our other fictional authors.

As we’ve mentioned, our current novel started out as an idea born of Kent’s fevered imaginings, an idea that didn’t really speak to Jen. We found a way to work around that, and now Kent gets his reward for compromising.

In the story world, there is an author whose novels embody Kent’s original idea, and now Kent has free rein to bring that idea to life. He is encouraged to dive as deep into the hard scifi well as he wants. And since we’re only going to be including excerpts from our fictional author, he doesn’t have to worry overmuch about plot.

Lest it sound like Jen never gets to do the fun part, she already came up with the titles for all ten of our latest made-up author’s novels (and one short story). That “idea that didn’t really speak to Jen” seems to have been whispering in her ear over the past couple of days. Having the names of all the books that will provide the excerpts gives Kent inspiration for the story lines and themes they contain. It’s a neat example of the symbiosis in Rune Skelley’s writing process.

My Left Lung Contains Compressed Natural Gas

  • k-avatarMy left lung
  • “Doc! Moose!”
  • and her pet Arthur
  • unfamiliar with “flipping the bird”
  • Puerto Rico meant nothing to her
  • “Survival of the fittest,” she hissed
  • “Far worse, Uncle Kent,”

My left lung contains compressed natural gas, which gives me a formidable weapon but impairs my stamina. My partner’s toenails can generate an electromagnetic pulse, making her a threat to sensitive electronics and augmenting her tap dancing.

“Doc! Moose!” That had to be Biff, counteragent and general numbskull, calling for his associates. We were in danger.

My partner rounded a corner in the warehouse and stopped short, confronted by all three of our enemies. I peered past her to see the men’s disappointed faces as they discovered she was unfamiliar with “flipping the bird.” Suddenly she leapt aside, and the bullets struck me instead. Moments later she returned fire, dispatching her clueless adversaries.

“Wait,” I groaned as she started to leave.

“Survival of the fittest,” she hissed. Puerto Rico meant nothing to her.

The gunshots had embedded harmlessly in the kevlar envelope surrounding my left lung, but I was woozy. I just needed a hand up, but she was abandoning me for dead. So I flicked my lighter and exhaled forcefully, roasting her where she stood.

Her, and her pet Arthur the Mouse who always rode in her pocket.

“Can this day get any worse?” I muttered.

“Far worse, Uncle Kent,” came my evil nephew’s chilling retort.

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My Stomach Attacked Me

  • k-avatarmy stomach attacked me
  • on an inaudible chemical level
  • unimaginative weapons
  • Pardon my patronizing tone
  • she feigned innocence
  • The trees helped a lot
  • Improved by human effort

My stomach attacked me with the unimaginative weapons available to such an organ, assailing me with ferocious pangs and horrendous cramps on an inaudible chemical level.

The trees helped a lot, abounding with apples, pears, and squirrels. Soon my appetite was sated.

“Pardon my patronizing tone,” announced an unctuous female voice, “but what are you doing up in my tree?”

“Your tree?” I responded hotly. “And in your case, it’s actually a matronizing tone.”

She feigned innocence, but I heard her mutter, “Idiot!”

The natural process of evolution had been improved by human effort, giving rise to trees that could defend themselves by constriction, a fact I learned just too late for it to do me any good.

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Professor Turkovsky Called His Apprentice

  • by jengreat white eyebrows
  • his long slender hand around his neck
  • grasshopper war cry
  • I will be old, ugly, stupid
  • a fantastic contraption
  • Proper diet? Sports? Cosmetics?

Professor Turkovsky called his apprentice, James, into his study. James stood before the professor, lanky and youthful and handsome, his long slender hand around his neck, scratching a bug bite.

“James, tell me, what is the secret of youthful beauty?” asked Professor Turkovsky. “Proper diet? Sports? Cosmetics?”

James nodded, uncertain.

“But those all require hard work, skill, and money!”

James shrugged.

“I have invented a fantastic contraption!” the professor chirped in a voice not unlike a grasshopper war cry. “It is like the fountain of youth! It will make me young again!”

“But what if it fails, Professor?” asked James in alarm.

“If it fails, I will be old, ugly, stupid.”

Before James could protest further, Professor Turkovsky flipped the power switch and grasped the handles. A smell of sickly sweet cotton candy filled the study as tendrils of yellow and orange electricity crawled over Turkovsky’s body.

James shook his head in dismay as he saw the great white eyebrows form on the professor’s face.

The experiment had failed.

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Playing the Part of the Innocent Venutian Princess

  • by jenunbuttoning his Space Ranger pajamas
  • nearly vomited in terror
  • the tune was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
  • stuck in his eyebrows
  • and the telephone itself
  • dogs of all sizes and descriptions

Playing the part of the innocent Venutian princess who nearly vomited in terror at her first sight of an Earth astronaut, only to find herself strangely aroused by the alien intruder, Ibernia Patience reached out to her husband Frank Pax, unbuttoning his Space Ranger pajamas.

Venutian folk music warbled in the background. The tune was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but the lyrics were incomprehensible. Ibernia drew the now-naked Frank down onto a large pile of stuffed dogs of all sizes and descriptions. She brushed away a stray bit of fluff that was stuck in his eyebrows as he bent down to kiss her.

Just then the phone rang and Ibernia cursed both the thoughtless caller and the telephone itself for interrupting her play time.

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Jacket Blurb #1

by jenOur critique group meets in a bookstore, and that inspired this week’s writing prompt. We were each assigned the title of an existing science fiction novel we had not read, and had to write the exciting synopsis for the back cover.

Jen’s assigned novel was 43,000 Years Later

An epic saga tracking the bloodline, the passion, the tribulations and joys of a single family through the most influential 43,000 years of man’s recent history.

It starts when Percival Gray meets the young, beautiful Persimmon Smith and romance blossoms. Follow through the years as their family grows and shapes world (and eventually galactic) events!

43,000 pages would scarcely be enough to contain the tale of what happens. Where will they end up 43,000 Years Later?

Marita Shuddered and Closed Her Eyes

  1. by jenCharacter – alien robot
  2. Setting – dry dock
  3. Object – engagement ring
  4. Situation – scattering ashes

Marita shuddered and closed her eyes. With any luck the horrible cyborg wouldn’t think to look for her in her hiding spot. A ship in dry dock has no need for lifeboats, after all.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Marita opened her eyes. Peering through the crack between the boat and its canvas tarp she caught a fleeting glint of sunlight reflecting off the machine’s shiny blue casing. A second later there was a sharp, electrical noise as the robot fired a blast of energy at the stack of lumber where Lyle was hiding. The wood disappeared in a cloud of ash which quickly scattered in the breeze, exposing Lyle on bended knee, proffering a ring.

Marita watched in amazement as the robot holstered its ray gun and pulled Lyle to his feet. The two of them embraced and walked together to the waiting rocket ship.

“That ring was meant for me!” Marita grumbled, knowing that she would now need to swear vengeance upon the alien robot and its kind in order to save her dignity.

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“I Don’t Understand”

  1. k-avatarCharacter – porn actress Turkish Delight
  2. Setting – vestibule of the time travel agency
  3. Object – camcorder
  4. Situation – need to find the black market

“I don’t understand.”

“Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople.”

“Just sell me a ticket.”

A notched blue card popped out of the slot in the counter.

“Two dollars.”

“Wow. Thought I was cheap.”

“We invest it hundreds of years ago. Compound interest…”

“Thanks.” Turkish Delight bent to pick up her bags, and every male in the room locked on like a radar defense grid. She slung the camcorder bag over her shoulder and surveyed the assortment of geeky tourists. The one in full plate mail caught her eye, but the logistics were alarming to consider. Loincloth, too far the other way… There! The Renaissance rogue. Very tasty.

Delight swayed over to him, enjoying his confident smirk at her approach. She batted her dark eyes.

“Hello,” he said, in a voice that made her knees weak. “You look familiar.”

Delight smiled shyly. “I get that a lot. My name’s Dee.”

“I’m Jacob.”

“Well, Jacob,” Delight purred, “I’m making a movie. Want to be in it?”

“Absolutely!”

“Great. Hope Constantinople is on your itinerary.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. When we’re done making movies, maybe you can help me.”

“Oh really? How?”

Jacob patted the bulging leather satchel hanging at this side. It seemed to shift a bit in protest.

“I need to find the black market.”

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