September 2016 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO JOHNNYJET!

[Culhwch]

...Merely Players

‘Break a leg!’

‘What?’

‘Old Earthian expression. Means good luck.’

‘Bit grim. Plus - no legs.’

‘Break a tentacle!’

‘...’

‘Sorry. Nervous?’

‘We’re performing Hamlet for the Zurtarch of K’l’besh!’

‘So... yes?’

‘Where’s Snar’lack?’

‘Dunno. He was off switching genders to play Ophelia.’

‘Is he in makeup?’

‘...Nope.’

‘Wardrobe?’

‘Nada.’

‘Great. Ophelia’s missing!’

‘Maybe Teeruup could split in two again?’

‘That halfwit doesn’t know his own lines. This is a disaster!’

‘Actually, isn’t it a tragedy?’

 

[Bowler1]

Stage Fright – Season Three

The studio audience cheered when the first explosion killed contestants fighting for their lives and prizes.

Attacking terrorists and security started a fire fight and the shows feed went viral on all news networks.

Ratings soared as the body count climbed and spiked when the game show host machine gunned the studio stage.

Shooting from the hip our host blasted the last attackers and then he turned on the surviving contestants.

‘The show goes on.’

 

[AJB]

Discord

I sang for our planet, to share our sound, our soul.

Our song was to play throughout the Galaxy for all to hear. I breathed nerves during takes.

The editor loved me.

I spurned him.

He was ruthless. My miscues were left bare, like stab wounds. My performance travels at the speed of light for eternity.

Growing old, I live, every moment knowing that someone new hears my failure. My heart breaks for eternity.

 

[VinceK]

Frightful Performance

I unfurled within the spotlight's glare, those closest to the stage froze, everyone else screamed.
Some in the upper circle jumped, others were pushed, smashing onto the panicking stampede below.
I unfurled some more, the razor-sharp tip of one of my numerous limbs stroking the upturned chins of the statuesque front row.
Bodies piled at the locked exits, bones cracked, the crescendo of screams raised the roof.
They were dying for the finale.

 

[Gnrevolution]

Babylon's Ashes

The audience watched and waited.

He knew what he should tell them. Knew what it would mean. That the end was here, that it had always been coming, just a matter of when and where. That before the year was done they would all be gone. He knew it was the right thing to do. But he couldn’t, the need to protect them outweighing the truth.

So he started.

“Welcome. Welcome to a new beginning.”

 

[aThenian]

The Results Are In

Behind them, the vast banner of the Pan-Galactic Presidential Election.

Before them, an ocean of cheering, triumphant supporters.

The President-Elect stepped forward to greet the crowd. The tiny transmitter on his jacket came loose, and Aranya, his aide, darted to fix it.

And that's when she knew. His expression was usually perfect (too perfect?), but this time something was missing. They must have missed it out of the programming.

He couldn't do fright.

 

[Heijan Xavier]

Death of Fear of Failure of Fear of Death

“You Choked. You didn’t fire, not a single shot”

“It’s OK. You’re safe and the rebellion was always doomed.”

“You had the finest weapon in the rebel arsenal but not a single shot”

“Good! It’s proof you’re not a traitor and you have more ammo now just in case you need it.”

“Don’t fool yourself. You’re a coward. You ran. Not a single shot”


A single shot. That would silence the voices in my head.

 

[Shyrka]

The Final Curtain

The viewscreen flickers. Static. No help is coming. Not out here.

Clara looks to me as I emerge. She knows our chances – my charade will be safe with her. She turns to Megan. “See, darling, Papa’s back.”

My daughter’s eyes light up. Well-rehearsed lies stick in my throat, bitter ashes on my tongue. I force a smile.

Don’t let her see.

“It’s okay little bear,”

We are going to die.

“Everything will be fine.”

 

[Andrew Lambert]

Princess Grace of Verceti - Extract from Chapter 1

At last, it was the young princess’s turn.


This simple act of standing up, bowing, walking three steps and sitting down again had been practised in her mind a thousand times.


Bakta the Overseer called to her.


“Princess of the great house of Tauriar, stand before your nation and celebrate your onward journey.”


Tauriar froze. Her brain and legs disconnected. A million eyes held her in her seat. Her world was falling apart.

 

[Vaz]

A Birth at Weyland-Yutani's Post Mission Briefing.


They think it's the drone cams making me sweat. The room crammed with old men in new suits causing my stutter.

Ah, it burns.

"You're nervous, this will settle you." A papery hand pours scotch into my glass.

Biting. Biting. My mouth tastes like metal.

Another Weyland-Yutani suit claps me on the back. "Amanda Ripley ... slayed all the Xeno's, eh?"

Light spears my skull as my chest opens. Darkness. Screaming.

No, not all....

 

[LittleStar]

Old Wood

"How's that make me feel? I know what the younguns say; 'a never-was; pre-carbon punchlines; sense a' humour to match its skin'. You think they care how that makes me feel?

I'm not jus' a primary model, Doc. I'm the first robot. Period.

Sure they got iron wills an' nerves a' steel, but I say they got hearts a' stone. So you tell me, how can I compete when I'm jus' old wood?"

 

[Parson]

Korean Stage Fright​

Sueng’s panic mounted as the speaker crackled, “First stage jettisoned.” He had survived the first stage. Could he survive the second?

He had not been able to delay today’s launch because it celebrated Emperor Jung-un’s fiftieth birthday. That the second stage had gone untested, had him panicked.

“Go for second stage ignition.”

Sueng tensed. His pupils dilated. His throat constricted. This was it.

Boom!

The emperor’s celebration became fireworks over the Sea of Japan.

 

[Justin Swanton]

School Play​

Josephine stood on the stage, her mouth dry, her heart hammering. Her father smiled encouragingly at her from the front row. Could she do it?

She closed her eyes, seeking out the minds of everyone in the school hall except, of course, her father. One by one she found them all. Now the difficult part. She squeezed, hard. Everyone collapsed, eyes open, unseeing.

She laughed. “I did what you asked, daddy. I knocked 'em dead!”

 

[Ihe]

Leave It to the Psychoneers


“What can 'Psychoneering' do for you tonight?” asks the sparkly host of the neural makeover show.

“I-I dream of… d-doing stand-up,” I say, trembling.

The crowd laughs.

They stuff my brain with cheap psynodes and dendritic calibrators, and shoot an endearing story about conquering social anxieties.

--

Can’t leave my bedroom now. Hecklers lurk everywhere. They know all my jokes and constantly interrupt me. They look like me; they stare unblinkingly. Every mirror is a critic.

 

[nixie]

Did I Participate in Alcohol Last Night?

"My head"

Looks round.

" Where am I? must have been a good night, last thing I remember was leaving the theatre"

Knock, Knock.

" Two minutes and your on"

Door opens a hooded figure beckons, shrugging my shoulders I follow.


Down the corridor until we reach a curtain, handing me a mic, pushing me through the curtain.

" Go"

I step onto a stage, terror fills me as I look upon an audience made of nightmares.

 

[AstroZon]

Kalli2

Galene knew that she had to speak in front of the assembled directors, but she dreaded public speaking. She was self-conscious about her soft, high voice. Besides, nothing about her project could possibly appeal to them - a method for scanning DNA on far planets.

Kalli2 offered his help. He closed his eyes, rubbed a reddish stone, and chanted softly. A tranquility overcame the attendees. Galene spoke slowly, and all considerately listened. They were hers.

 

[cyprus7]

Space Opera​

“Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the death star…”

“Cut!” Leonard leapt from his director’s chair and pointed at the first officer.
“Jeez, Jimmy. Yes, we tame frontiers but this is no genocide mission. Let’s get it right. OK?”

Jimmy cocked but an eyebrow in response.

“And a-c-t-i-o-n!”

One look at the sniggering Romulan redshirts in the front row was all it took.
“Quick, Scottie. Beam me up now.”

 

[Mr Orange]

Stage Fright

Nothin' occurs on Epsil 8. Even less at Sundown ‘post.

Well, 'cept the old coach. Noon pickup every day, like damned, shimmerin’ clockwork.

Normally warn folks off gettin' in.

But I knew what Jimmy Maroch done, seen the bodies.

He was runnin'. Barely wrinkled ‘is nose at the smell, din't notice the ancient tech. Pro’ly figured ‘is shooters keep him safe anyhow.

Turbines spun silently an’ he was away.

C'n still hear him screaming.

 

[Perpetual Man]

Posterior Posterity

“I can’t do it!”
“You’ve got to, damn it! We drew straws!”
“But… but the whole world is watching – ME!!!”
“Ahh, for >REDACTED< sake…”
“Ahhhhhhhh”


“And as we watch the historic moment of astronaut Sam Watterson becoming the first human to step foot on Mars, we can only ponder the humour in his historic words. From Armstrong’s Giant Leap to ‘Jim you >REDACTED< *******, what’d you do that for?’

“Posterity never seemed so ashamed.”

 

[ratsy]

Not your local theatre

“The world is your stage, Peter,” the gelatinous being said.

“But I just want to go home, sir,” Pete said quietly.

“Here you will be a star among the stars!”

“I’m more of a community theatre type…”

The blob raised a blaster.

Peter put on the best Macbeth the aliens had ever seen.

He exited stage left and was absorbed by the audience.

Served him right for auditioning in a corn field at midnight.