smilinghelps

Up, Up and Away




“I can’t believe our mission is finally complete.” Alex says handing Miranda a packet of freeze dried apples. “These past four months on Aester II have been necessary and we’ve accomplished so much on the Satellite Station, but I’m ready to get home and see my family and experience some serious gravity.”

“Thanks,” Miranda replies, “Yeah, I know what you mean. Charlie wants to finalize our wedding plans after we touch down, I’m anxious to get home too.”

Looking out the window, Miranda watches the sun dip below the horizon and gazes in wonderment. “I will miss the ninety minute sunrises and sunsets though”, she grins. “Living in Atlanta will seem so mundane when we return.”

Luke and Wallace have finished securing the equipment on the rig. “After our call from the Mission Control at Twenty-Hundred hours, we should belt in and get as much rest as possible; our descent into Earth’s atmosphere might be a little rough. Miranda I wish you hadn’t eaten anything, I don’t feel like wearing your snack again tonight”, Luke scolds.

A flash catches Miranda’s eye and distracts her from the conversation. “What was that?” she asks.

“What was what?” Luke says.

Another flash lights up the sky.

“There, there is goes again. Is there a storm going on?”

Captain Wallace McIlwain takes his headgear from around his neck and places it over his ears. “Aester II to Mission Control, come in”. He switches the audio on to the cabin speakers. Crackling comes over the speakers and a faint audible sound of rustling. “Aester II to Mission Control, I repeat, come in”. Wallace repeats.

“Mission Control this is Corporal Jamison responding, Captain. We are under attack, what is your position?”

“We are scheduled for reentry at Fourteen hundred hours tomorrow, Corporal. What is the source of your attack? What is your status?”

The static in the speakers grows louder, an explosion roars over the speakers. The crew members race to the windows as bright flashes fill the sky and large particles rush past them. Suddenly the shuttle begins to shake violently.

Miranda straps herself into her bunk and the men do the same. Big boulders begin to bang into them and fire soars through the atmosphere. They are pushed higher and higher into space, floating uncontrollably. The audio has gone silent in the speakers and their signal is lost.

Alex looks at Miranda and Wallace, then Luke. “I don’t think we have a home to go back to” he says flatly.

A deafening howl wraps itself around the shuttle like an enormous hoover and pulls them into the atmosphere in a giant ball of fire.

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"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
E. B. White

The Duke

Charlie_Eleanor

Last passage of The True Messiah.

When you wake on the morning of the world’s end you will not know it. Precious few will have the joyous announcement ring in their ears that the true Messiah has come, and they will be my children. I will take them to my home, lay them down, and every manner of ecstasy will be theirs, until time is lost in an endless euphoria.

The most beautiful women and men will be their slaves, they will eat the most delicious cuisines until their belies are tight, and my children will forever sleep in the warm morning sun.

But this will not be you.

You will be like the many others that go about their normal day. You will not notice the disappearance of my children, for I will mold your mind to forget they were ever there. And if you thought my children were blessed beyond imagination, you are damned far worse.

Everything you hold dear will be broken before your eyes. I promise you that before the end your wife will look up at you from tear filled eyes, as my demons use their bladed cocks to rape her sad excuse of a cunt until she is dead. Your children will beg for mercy as we whip them, use them, and hang them from the monkey bars at the park just down your street. And you, my long lost friend, will live through all of this and more. You will see the world crumble. Your fellow man will die slowly, all for something you could have stopped a thousand years ago.

The time has passed for you to embrace your God. You should have spoken my words to the masses when you had your chance. Now know that I am coming for you. When you wake pray for mercy. Beg me to be your God again, as I was when you were in your mother's womb. Remember this; every morning could be the beginning of the end.

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eggo

Hey guys,

http://www.writingforums.com/writers...ml#post1119104

It was fun , thanks.

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http://vagabondagepress.com/81101/V1I6SS1.html

adrianhayter

The cloak covering his shoulders was a patchwork of pelts, stitched together from the hides of feral animals he’d snared. Encased in this mismatch of skins, he’d abandoned the familiarity of his past; the comfort of those memories replaced by the cold clawing into his body. Stooped low, watching for tracks in the snow, he would have been hard to identify as something familiar. He more closely resembled an unknown breed, stranger than the animals he stalked –a multicolored creature, alone, separated from his own kind. With darkness approaching, he was nearing the end of the trap line with little to show for his work.

Sleet froze on his face. He must reach cover soon or end as a carcass for the packs to discover, leaving nothing but scraps to feed the magpies. Stopping long enough to search the darkening hills, he tightened his cape and moved on.

Pausing briefly in a field that once grew corn and pinto beans, he scraped the surface with his boot. Ice encrusted Junipers guarded the field’s edge, fenced out by rows of rocks –a barrier built for sheep and cattle that no longer strayed. At the base of a broken stalk, he knelt and dug deep into the snow. Hidden beneath, he found an ancient ear of corn the rodents had missed - gnawed in places but with kernels intact. He placed the corn in his pocket and dug for more. Hunger worried at his abdomen but he would save the kernels for the traps.

He heard the howling before he saw the gaunt bodies climbing the rocks, faces shinning from exertion, teeth bared to the cold, and breathe freezing in the air. Bent low, he acted the part of their prey, vulnerable, encouraging them to come forward.

As the bravest approached snarling, he rose and fired the weapon, blood misting the snow as the dark form collapsed. The pack stopped, all except the one who ran to the body and covered it with her own. She howled a language unheard for decades.

“You killed him!” She screamed.

The Catcher placed the translator to his throat and spoke to the woman.

“Surrender and you will be euthanized mercifully.

“We’re hungry. This is our field.”

The laser severed her head and the pack retreated across the rocks, disappearing into the junipers like wind blown drifts in the snow.

He finished skinning the woman last, removing her thigh muscles along with both buttocks. It had been a good day for the Catcher, two strays removed and tracks to follow in the morning. He reclined against the rock wall and sewed the female’s pelt together with her mate’s - brown and white would be an excellent addition to his cloak. His blue iridescent skin glowed with pleasure as he started the fire for dinner.

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IrishLad

A Voyage of Discovery

“Captain! Dead ahead!”

The call came from the crow’s nest. Colón stepped through a group of men and gazed forward with widening eyes. Mother of God, he thought, I’ve doomed us.

“Come about,” he said, the words wisping from his mouth so softly that no one heard. Then, the gravity of the situation sinking in, “HARD TO PORT!”

He turned to see if his command was being obeyed, knowing by the ship’s motion it was not. The sailor manning the ship’s wheel was infected with the same awe that had taken hold of the rest of the crew. Colón pressed through the congregated men, pushing most out of his way and finally striking one larger man who could not be shoved aside. He grabbed the wheel and turned hard to port for all he was worth.

The current dragged at the wooden vessel, enticing the ship to disregard its master, to follow the bidding of the sea. But she was a good ship, built for speed and maneuvering. The wind pillowing her sails, she listed horribly in response to the captain’s demands and paid little heed to the current.

What of the others? Colón thought. He glanced starboard. His companions had caught stronger wind and were both ahead of him, too far gone for salvation. The crews were scrambling about the decks like bees about a hive in a vain attempt to reverse course. One after the other the two ships tipped forward, their keels briefly visible, and were lost.

Colón’s men watched this, and now turned to him, their eyes those of the deceived. Some began to utter prayers, other’s said the captain was cursed, or possibly the devil himself. As if confirming the crew’s suspicions, the ship’s sails fell still and her forward momentum slowed. The current had her now.

“It’s an omen,” cried a crewman. “Even the wind deserts us.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Colón. “Devil!”

“Hold your tongue!” Colón shouted. “I am still master of this vessel.”

“And a fine master you are,” said one of the older sailors, stepping forward and drawing his blade. “We told you, but you’d not hear us. Superstition. Isn’t that what you said? Folly of the uneducated?”

The ship now gave herself over to the will of the water completely, slipping backwards, toward the edge where the sea flowed over into darkness, into nothingness.

The crew surrounded Colón on the quarterdeck and forced him to kneel, the old sailor’s blade poised at his face.

“We all die now,” said the old sailor, “but I’ll have you first. Before I open you, I want to hear the great Christóbal Colón admit he was wrong. Stand him up.” He raised his voice. “The world is round, you say. Myth, you say.”

The crew of the Santa Maria lifted their captain.

“Will you not believe your own eyes, Captain?” The old sailor pointed. “Behold! The end of the world.”

Raging_Hopeful

Death from Above

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The concentrated blade of light jagged across the concrete wasteland.

A boulder. I hid behind it even though I could have lifted it above my head. Our line was disrupted and the young fairladies screamed.

It was their first day, I thought miserably and my antennae drooped with sadness. Then I gasped, watching the pretty one with the red fuzz on her feet fall to the hard floor, her exoskeleton hissing as she was seared by the spot of blinding refraction. What could I do?

“Run!” shrieked Bood, scuttling past me. His bad foot limped while the other five worked twice as hard to compensate for its infirmary. I fell in line behind him, his acidic trail of chemical fear making him easy to follow. One of the ladies fell behind me as well and we tagged together, three small ants in a world of death and destruction. I saw the grass looming closer, the thick trunks of the grass promising safety.

“They’re getting away.” The booming voice made our skeletons quiver. I wondered what away meant but had little time to ponder it. The light was coming toward us. Forcing myself to override instinct, I ducked out from behind Bood, making a jagged path to the edge of the grasslands. The lady shrieked as Bood sizzled and fell to his belly in front of her. The smell made me sad but I had no time.

“Lady! Lady!”

She looked at me. So scared. So stiff. I wiggled my feelers at her.

Follow me, I tried to tell her. It was too late. Her scream ended abruptly as she too fell. The litter of bodies that covered the lands of gray filled me with horror. Was there anyone else? I ran, my legs pumping as fast as they could. I was so close. I could even smell the dew that still clung to the uneven edges of the leaves.

Suddenly I was caught in shadow and my senses told me something was descending upon me, over me, on me. Silence.

“Did you get it?”

“I think so.”

“Awwwwesome. Let’s go, my mom said if she caught us killing ants again she’d beat us.”

“Yeah whatever.”

The darkness ascended and light flooded in around me. I watched the sole of his exaggerated shoe rise above, a looming beast in the blue sky. The two towers of pale color moved away. Across the expanse of concrete I could see the weapon, laying monstrously large, its shiny surface now glinting harmlessly in the sun. What made it so powerful?

I shuddered and scuttled to the grass. A mass of antennae reached out, touching me, caressing me gently.

“You made it.” Tood came to me and I sensed her familiar warmth. I was pleased she had survived.

“Yes, but many did not. We must mobilize a plan to retaliate against these beasts.”

Her antennae shuddered against mine, creating pleasurable vibrations in my mind.

“Be grateful that we are still alive. Come, the colony waits.”

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seigfried007

http://www.writingforums.com/writers...ml#post1119855

Not sure precisely why I posted it there, but hey. Don't expect anything too serious (or anything that'll make sense, for that matter, but I hope it's fun )

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Foxee

Viva Las Vegas
500 words

I feel guilty giving you guys another entry to read. This challenge has been really popular!

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Try the POSTCARD FICTION CONTEST! Closes for entries November 19. Can you write a story in 350 words or less?