June 2015 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO KERRYBUCHANAN!

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TheDustyZebra

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RULES:


Write a story inspired by the chosen theme and genre in no more than 75 words, not including the title



ONE entry per person


NO links, commentary or extraneous material in the posts, please -- the stories must stand on their own


WHEN WRITING YOUR STORY, PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A FAMILY-FRIENDLY FORUM



All stories Copyright 2015 by their respective authors,

who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here


The complete rules can be found at Rules for the Writing Challenges



Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 23, 2015

Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 28, 2015



You do not have to submit a story in order to vote --

in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner


The Magnificent Prize:

The Dignified Congratulations/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers
and the challenge of choosing the next month's theme and genre



Theme:

Arrival


Genre:

Science Fiction or Fantasy



This thread to be used for entries only.

Please keep all comments to the Discussion Thread.

We invite (and indeed hope for) lively discussion and speculation about the stories as they are posted,
so long as it doesn't involve the author explaining the plot.


** Please do not use the "Like" button in this thread! **
 
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God’s Will

Manson escaped the traitors, his consciousness riding the vortex to the distant past. There his bloody reign would begin anew, with none to oppose him.

Unexpectedly, the vortex shifted and agony seared his mind.

Darkness, pain and renewal. Then a voice.

“In forty years of pediatric medicine, I’ve never seen,” a low groan. “We must end this poor creature’s suffering.”

The atrocious, malformed newborn whimpered pathetically.

Within the baby’s mind, a monster screamed and screamed.
 
And See You Not That Bonny Bonny Road?

“Nothing to do.” Adam sat by the portal to Elfland, pulling at his shoe. “It’s today?”

Vlad nodded. “Today.”

“We can’t eat until Thomas comes.”

“Do you remember last time?”

“She pulled him off his horse, said she loved him.”

“No,” Vlad said, “that was before.”

“Oh.”

A young elf’s head poked through the portal. “They’re not coming. The Queen has a migraine. Tomorrow.”

Vlad sat down by Adam. “Nothing to do, until tomorrow.”
 
Colony

After two centuries between the stars
The destination planet swims 'cross telescope
Being the generation - this is ours
That we're supposed to terraform, in hope
Of generating breathing air in fifty years
Of Spartan primitivity survived in domes
Discomfort to endure while building homes
Backwash of apathy now seethes and foams
And even now they wait in vain for volunteers.
Send robots down - let grandchildren decide
To live adventure, or admit the dream has died.​
 
Fantasy Guest

On the forest's edge, Vampire waltzed with her human. “Lift your neck. I'm hungry.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Fairy bounced her lights off the trees and river.
Siren sang atop a rock, and Werewolf howled a tune.
Wizard's eyes illuminated blue. “Our guest has arrived.”
Troll, Goblin, Zombie and everyone else looked up to the sky. Flames exploded through the clouds.
Dragon rumbled the earth as he landed.
Wizard smiled. “About time. Happy millionth birthday, Dragon.”
 
Destiny?

It was Hurak's destiny to defeat the Dark Lord the wizard had declared; his ability to tan, look good in a loincloth and pull a sword from a log proved it.

Across unknown lands his quest led, countless foul corpses and swooning beautiful maidens left in his wake.

Now finally here, Hurak's meaty fist smacked the dread gate.

Over the battlements a hand irritably gesticulated.

Hurak's mighty brow furrowed. "But I'm not selling double glazing!"
 
Welcome Song

It had appeared in a Trans-Neptunian orbit, transmitting garbled signals to Earth. Rescue found a capsule, men inside perished from desperate interstellar travel. Eventually their recorded message was clarified:

Beware of the coming aliens. Do not trust.​

Our war leaders’ paranoia for detecting further arrivals is stupid! So, as my tendrils enjoy every crevice and surface of my collection of human skulls, I sing mockingly to the sky:

Too late, little ship, too late…
 

A Rival


Chiss, time-travelling bounty hunter, loved her entrances.

Sandals cracking back a dojo door. Kneepads shattering a nightclub skylight. She loved the sounds: their initial gasp into silent awe, followed by explosive barks from her twin revolvers.

***

Her last job felt wrong. She’d seen the bar before… different angle.

Shouldering the backdoor, Chiss pulled the boys from their kennels.

Across the room another door opened.

Initial gasp… silent awe.

Four barks. Two smiles.

Chiss fell together.
 
Writing a Challenge Story, Then Help Arrives

...She’d tried to befriend Ted’s beloved werewolf brother, Crispin; she’d brushed him, played fetch--but nothing worked. Crispin buried her keys, chewed her Birkenstocks--
“Dear, you’ll want to check the theme again. Your story’s not quite right.”
“‘A rival’...the werewolf’s her rival for Ted’s love.”
“‘Arrival’...one word, dear.”
“......Damn....Crispin’s about to light a bag of his poo on fire and ring the doorbell.”
“Ah, that would’ve won the challenge for you dear.”
 
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No Time Left for You



Jarvis defied death for nearly two centuries, using every means available. The nurse hovering around his bed constantly adjusts machinery, trying to squeeze out every minute of life.

A hooded figure glides into the room, unseen except by Jarvis.

“Is it finally time?” he asks, voice quivering.

A bony hand touches the nurse, who collapses.

“Yes, just not for you.”

Seeing Jarvis smile, he added, “Don’t look so relieved, I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
 
Firstborn
I cradle you, smiling as you stir,
vellum-soft, within my hands.
I inhale your newborn scent and wonder
what mark you'll make upon the world.
How will the world mark you?
You were conceived in harsh blue light
but born by candle's flame.
I travelled back through centuries,
seeking the good mountain, to see eDreams take form:
A world foregone for you and a world birthed
-- the world within your pages.
 
Wind Blown Seeds II

Vital systems failed, one by one, and still I searched.

So many worlds weren’t right, rocky, scorched and burned, where no seed could grow.

I was dying and desperate when I found the perfect world, a blue gem.

Already populated and polluted by a primitive species, so undeserving of what they had.

I couldn’t go on.

I had to stay.

I killed them all.

Genocide.

Extinction.

Words will never be enough, not for my crimes.
 
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Bittersweet

After a million light years in stasis, it took time for them to wake completely. Yawning and stretching, they made their way to the viewing portals.

There it was: their new home, beautiful in shades of blue and green, just like the planet they came from.

Lovers clasped hands; children smiled.

It took a while for the first one to notice the red light on the console.

To read the message.

"Engines failed. Mission aborted."
 
Carry On Encounters

‘We received your transmissions! We are coming!! Ooo-errr!!!’

There was a clue in that message, received from beyond Saturn. When the ship landed in Pinewood the world was agog with expectation at what two high civilisations could share with one another.

Two bipedal creatures disembarked.

The first arrayed with voluptuous bumps in pink lace, the voice shrill ‘I’ve arrived!’

The second slender, with bulging eyes, also shrill, ‘Oooo!,’ then deeply resonant, ‘Matron!!!’
 
Bang




A crackle in my ear. Mission Control, thirteen billion years away. "What's it like, Quinn?"


Particles flow in digitally rendered whorls, a dance of quarks and gluons reflected in my inner eye.


"It's beautiful."


"Yes, but how do you feel?"


My every molecule hums to the frequency of a newborn universe. Time and matter, extensions of my mind.


I close the gateway.


"What –"


Silence.


Darkness.


I reach out.


"Let there be light."


And there is…
 
Ballad of Starbeast: Galactic Gunslinger


Riding on planets orbiting suns,
on horseback,
comes that lawman with pistols & shotgun,
on his back,
Starbeast.


Arriving in town,
gunning the bad down,
saving the day,
in his way,
Starbeast.


Here on the full moon,
2nd of June,
gold he's got,
friends at Cracked Pot,
Starbeast.


Tonto, his talking palomino buddy's,
face was embarrassingly ruddy,
cause he accidently sat on,
Starbeast.


"I'm ok."

"I'm sorry."

"No worries, old friend."

"You're the best,
Starbeast."
 
Traveling in the Wrong Circles

I check the sign, then my ticket.

This isn't right.

So13 is clearly flashes from my tentacle-held device.

Looking around this is clearly Sol3. Oxygenated sky, domesticated grass sign posts, jumpy natives...

Sigh.

I twist the signet ring on my eighth-left tentacle before holding it aloft. Hoping a passerby will pick me up so I can lodge a complaint.
 
The Diaspora of the Spawn of Pangaia (Part 2)

Blood, fire, stone and obsidian cradled us together, but the gradual war of supercontinents separated me from my siblings and altered us unrecognizably.

Now I am but one grain of sand, while the beach is scattered, fragmented. So I crossed Rodinia, Gondwana, Laurasia, Siberia… eventually I reconnected with my brothers, and together we destroyed our mother.

So we built rockets, destined for the arid crimson of Kókkino Pan'gaía.

Maybe we’ll do better this time.
 
Hello I Must Be Going

Appearing above the ground,
Rotors spewing golden fire,
Robot craft glimmered, caught in a causal loop.
It seemed to expand into a nova,
Vanishing into tomorrow or yesteryear.
Earth held its breath as the time-ship left –
Vanishing into tomorrow or yesteryear,
It seemed to materialise from a nova,
Robot craft creating a glimmering causal loop.
Rotors devouring brilliant fire,
Appearing above the ground.​
 
From the West


From the west, the wind doth blow
Into my bones, into my soul


Hearing tidings, from the east
And seeing markings, of the beast


Across deserts, seas and plains
O’re scores of lands, do we four reign


From war, hunger, pests, you’ll die
Fall upon knees, we have arrived


Horses white, red, black and pale
Blind justice holds a set of scales


No one worthy, all condemned
Through us will all, come to an end
 
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