Today’s words: Content, Kidney, Jam, Scope
Today’s genre: Sci-Fi/Comedy/Fantasy
Words: 474
“I scope an interesting planet over there, so’s I does, Cap’n!”
The Captain leant over the navigator’s shoulder with a keen stare in his eyes, lower lip jutting out slightly, eyebrow raised. “Excellent work, Squivvy, you never let me down, do you?”
“Well, sir, I do try an’ all. I’ve become veeeery observant these past few months, wouldn’t you say so, sir? I’ve been searching out planets and moons by way of the constellations, you see? Old trick from --”
“The question was rhetoric, Squivvy; I don’t care how you do it, just as long as you get me to where I need to go, are we clear?”
“Yessir.”
“ I did not bring an old stuffed lizard to life for the purpose of entertaining me with chitter chatter, you are here to work, and if you must natter would you kindly banter to yourself because what you say does not matter to me. ”
They stopped and stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before the Captain repositioned his cap and folded his arms. “Savvy?”
“Squivvy.”
“Savvy?!”
“Oh, yessir Cap’n, you got it Cap’n.”
Alien (the alien) continued to steer the ship, smiling slightly as countless stars and nebula whizzed passed them in a flurry of soft colour. Squivvy had always been cheery and talkative, even when they were stuck in a space jam for hours, he would find endless amusement in playing ‘I Spy.’ Alien and the Captain would be noticeably bored, but Squivvy would continue to smile and laugh like every game was his first go.
After a while, the Captain spoke up: “You know, I uh, I used to snuggle you to death when I was a kid.”
“You did, Cappy, sir?”
“Don’t call me ‘Cappy’.”
“Apologies, Cap...”
“I’d be so content with you, back when my captain’s hat still didn’t fit on my head and I had no concept of what it was like to be in charge of a ship or a crew...or how to us the potty without playing with my faeces.”
“Uh...huh...”
“ You spent most of the day and night in my arms, and you were my toy of choice - the one and only toy who could console me when I contracted an unfortunate kidney disease. I was about eight-years-old, do you recall this, Squiv?”
“I’ve no memory, sir.”
“Yes... You wouldn't, would you?” The Captain stroked the back of his neck as he gazed out of the front window while the orange and red planet glowed warmly ahead of them with its inviting light. “You can be a pain in my backside at times, you know? But I’ll never give you up...not never, you hear?”
“I loves you, so’s I do, Cap.”
A flush of red. “Shut up and look sharp, we’re approaching...”
“Right you are, sir.”
“...Happy-go-lucky bastard.”
Every few days I will use four random words to create a short, barely-planned piece of fiction. Choose a theme from the sidebar or pick a random number!
Showing posts with label science fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science fiction. Show all posts
Thursday, 29 November 2012
#8 - The Captain
Labels:
comedy,
fantasy,
fiction,
prose,
sci-fi,
science fiction,
short story,
space,
story,
writing
Tuesday, 27 November 2012
#7 - Eloise Grantham
Today’s words: Postage, Dual, Wake, Farewell
Today’s genre: Sci-Fi/Historical
Word count: 368
In a cobbled and cold, small city of London is where we meet our 'heroine'. It’s 1871; the boom of the industrial revolution increased Britain’s rate of production in ways no-one could imagine, but with the revolution emerged a woman who would take the world in her hands and provide it with several useful gadgets, remedies for complex diseases, and time-effective solutions for basic chores, things that shouldn’t have been invented until at least two decades after.
Her name? Eloise Grantham. A genius in her – and the world’s – own right. If something that she wanted hadn’t been invented yet, it would be standing in her make-shift laboratory by the beginning of the next week.
Eloise had dual personalities working in tandem – her professional character was extremely hard-working, enthusiastic, and determined; endless lists would be created – tasks that she couldn’t go to bed without completing. However, her day off wouldn’t just be a day off, it would be a day off, you understand? She spent barely any time of the day awake and her lust for life would be sucked away. Yes, she was great at all of these fantastic inventions – all of her appliances at home were self-cleaning, whatever food she was craving would instantly appear in a little transparent grey box, and she had a ‘Clothes-Master 800’ that would stitch and create clothes unassisted whenever she wanted a new outfit.
She knew she was talented but she hated all of the praise that came with it – people would hail her as some sort of queen among peasants and mass amounts of adoring letters would arrive daily at her door (delivered using the postage system that she helped to mould…no-one hated late deliveries).
One night she decided that she had done enough for the masses; they had accumulated inventions, toys, machines, aids and cures that she had perfected and produced for over forty years. Her legacy was already set in stone and still is to this day. So, she said a silent farewell before allegedly ingesting a small red pill that she had designed to shut down all of the user’s internal organs.
I closed the holographic history book that I was revising from and sighed; how tragic.
Today’s genre: Sci-Fi/Historical
Word count: 368
In a cobbled and cold, small city of London is where we meet our 'heroine'. It’s 1871; the boom of the industrial revolution increased Britain’s rate of production in ways no-one could imagine, but with the revolution emerged a woman who would take the world in her hands and provide it with several useful gadgets, remedies for complex diseases, and time-effective solutions for basic chores, things that shouldn’t have been invented until at least two decades after.
Her name? Eloise Grantham. A genius in her – and the world’s – own right. If something that she wanted hadn’t been invented yet, it would be standing in her make-shift laboratory by the beginning of the next week.
Eloise had dual personalities working in tandem – her professional character was extremely hard-working, enthusiastic, and determined; endless lists would be created – tasks that she couldn’t go to bed without completing. However, her day off wouldn’t just be a day off, it would be a day off, you understand? She spent barely any time of the day awake and her lust for life would be sucked away. Yes, she was great at all of these fantastic inventions – all of her appliances at home were self-cleaning, whatever food she was craving would instantly appear in a little transparent grey box, and she had a ‘Clothes-Master 800’ that would stitch and create clothes unassisted whenever she wanted a new outfit.
She knew she was talented but she hated all of the praise that came with it – people would hail her as some sort of queen among peasants and mass amounts of adoring letters would arrive daily at her door (delivered using the postage system that she helped to mould…no-one hated late deliveries).
One night she decided that she had done enough for the masses; they had accumulated inventions, toys, machines, aids and cures that she had perfected and produced for over forty years. Her legacy was already set in stone and still is to this day. So, she said a silent farewell before allegedly ingesting a small red pill that she had designed to shut down all of the user’s internal organs.
I closed the holographic history book that I was revising from and sighed; how tragic.
Labels:
fiction,
historical,
prose,
sci-fi,
science fiction,
short story,
story,
writing
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