100 word Anonymous challenge for September 2017

[farntfar]

Shyrka has given me the definition, so we're all go for this month's challenge.

Theme: Craft

Genre: Any speculative fiction


Remember. Don't post here. Send your entry to me (farntfar) by P.M. (conversation) and I'll post it without your name on.

Don't discuss the entries here.
I'll set up the discussion thread presently. Discussion thread for the September 2017 Anonymous challenge.

Please keep within the 100 word limit or I'll have to send your entry back for a rewrite. If your second attempt also fails the wordcount you're out.

I'll accept entries from now until 23:59 GMT on the 28th of September
and run the vote and the guessing game for a few days after that.

So get writing. Make me proud.

 

[farntfar]

Craft of words, one syllable tries for two in a language creation laboratory.

“Can I come in please?”

“Of course, how can I help you?”

“I've now left school and need a job, could I start work here please, to train with you?”

“Do you know what it is that we all do?”

“I think so , you make words don’t you?”

“In a way we do yes, we take one word and stick a word on it and see if it makes a new word”

“Have you made one of late?”

“Yes but it will make folk cross if we use it!”

“Why what word is it?”

“It is this one, alot”

 

[farntfar]

If She Really Is…


“Henny Porter, ye are charged of witchcraft. Do ye plead guilty and beg the Good Lord’s forgiveness?” The Magistrate questioned.

“I gladly admit I practice the Craft!” Henny offered cheerfully. “Aye to the first part; Nay to the second.”

His face ghastly pale, Pastor Franken spoke. “Henny! Do you realize what such an admission means?!”

“Do not worry, Parson,” Henny replied, smiling warmly.

The Magistrate pounded the gavel. “Henny, you are found guilty of Witchcraft. Ye shall be burned at the stake at dusk!”

That night, it rained fire. Many bodies were buried; Henny’s was not among them.

 

[farntfar]

Heart and Soul


I pluck two stars from the skies to glint a twinkle in her eyes.

I spin gold thin enough to tear, creating the sheen of her hair.

I crush pearls, make a paste to add the fairness of her face.

I slice my finger, a droplet drips. I use my blood to paint her lips.

I crack my ribs, wide and wider, and now my heart, it lies inside her.

In her skull is my brain, confined. She's truly made me lose my mind.

I'm within her, we're together, forever, forever, forever, forever.

 

[farntfar]

The Quasar

Quasar, quasar, burning bright,
In the galaxies of night,
What dark singularity
Carved thy blazing heart for thee?

From the ylem eons past,
From creation's lepton mass,
In the quark's unwitnessed birth,
Did thou ever dream of Earth?

When the cosmos burned and grew,
Bringing forth all matter new,
Did the red shift shade thy eyes
From vision of the stars' demise?

Background radiation's sign
Of the nature of thy mind
Tells a tale of thy fate
Mortal tongues may not relate.

Quasar, quasar, burning bright,
In the galaxies of night,
What dark singularity
Carved thy blazing heart for thee?

 

[farntfar]

Arts & Craft Day at Tobor Grade School

"...and it comes out here."

"Wonderful, nuclear powered, coffee and doughnut dispenser. It must have been expensive to build."

"Not really. I used stuff I found around the house. My father helped me. May I give doughnuts to everyone, Miss Tesla?"

"Certainly, Edwardo."

(click) WHIZZZ! BAM! FATANG! POW! BOOM!

"Run children! AAHHHHHHH!"

SMASH! CRASH! FOONT!

"Incoming!"

FizzzZZZZZ! KABOOM! KAPOW!

"My pen!"

BLAMO! SMASH! BAM! CRASH! ZWANG!

#

"I'm very sorry about yesterday, Principle Sergio."

"Don't worry, little Edwardo, no one was hurt. You received a C- for your droid. However, the military would like you to join their Weapons Development team."

 

[farntfar]

The Code of the Craft

My father knew it, passed to him by his mother just as he passed it to me. A blessing and burden both. “With Knowledge comes responsibility,” he’d say.

He could have stayed quiet, done nothing, but that was not my father. He saved many lives that day.

They burned him for it. Ungodly, they said – communing with daemons within. I survived on my mother’s pleading alone.

Then the air processor crashed.

“Help us!” they begged.

It was easy enough – a simple reboot/restore – but I could still hear their whispers.

That night, the fire suppression system ‘failed’.

Then they burned.

 

[farntfar]

Your move

She was never quite sure why she always got so aggressive.
She was young and she was good looking
(and really quite sexy)
She was strong and smart and usually pretty lucky.
So why could she never keep a man?
She’d meet some attractive bloke, generally hunky if not too bright.
She’d get him back her place. Things seemed to go well and then for no apparent reason, she’d slice his head off.
It was only when she realised that she’d failed to turn off her telepathy-connect planet of warcraft that it started to make sense.

 

[farntfar]

Craft of the Medusa

Few appreciate how gifted the Medusa truly is. She isn't merely someone who causes heads to turn away for fear of turning to stone. No, she is far more accomplished than that.

Imagine the effort it takes to care for, feed, and train an entire headful of snakes. Indeed she's quite proficient at the snake charming craft as well as animal care.

She deserves more respect than what she receives.

Go ahead, people, turn your faces away from her! Look the other way! Pretend she's not there!

Ugliness is only skin deep.

 

[farntfar]

The Baker

She took ashes from the earth, added dust from distant galaxies and imbued it with warmth from the sun. As she worked, she wept for her memories of grief to come, and her tears turned the powder to a pliant mass.

She kneaded it until the energy of her fingers lit a spark within. She shaped it with meticulous attention, crafting her own replica in miniature. When she left it to rest, it grew, limbs plumping, and began to breathe.

She watched with infinite compassion, then turned to her work again. She could not leave it to eternal solitude.

 

[farntfar]

The last sci-fi writer

"Are you still working on that?"

"Of course, I just need a bit more time and I will come out with something great."

"You can't work on this anymore, it's useless, you are just ruining yourself."

"I won't stop, I will finish this novel, even if it was the last thing I do."

"This is driving you crazy, stop. There is no point on writing sci-fi anymore, we have everything that has been theorized or imagined, everything."

"Imagination has no limit, I will find something new."

Fin.

 

[farntfar]

Ferryman's fee
Mrs. Fox -Vixie- was sitting next to her craft. It'd cost plenty to have it made so that it'd only carry two pieces of luggage, but had been worth it. This was grain land, so they raised plenty of chickens, and she rented it out much cheaper than the ferry.

Yokels came to the market, bought chicken for eggs and grain to feed it, then reached the river bank, where it was clear there was a technique for crossing without the chicken eating itself sick or being eaten by the fox. Only they didn't always find it first try…

 

[farntfar]

So, Did You Have A Good Day At School?

“So what are you making, Aten?”

“Well, you said we could make anything we wanted so I've been making a solar system.”

“Sounds interesting. Let's have a look... What's this? A red planet? And a blue planet? And what's this with the rings round it? And another with a big spot? Not very realistic is it?”

*close to tears* “But you said anything.”

“All right, all right. So I did. I didn't mean to upset you. Sorry. But don't you think it would be better if you made something, well, useful?”