The Inspiration:
A story:
Dusk. We’ve come from the fields, washing up at the handpump. The women have been cooking on the outdoor stove. Grandma lights the coal oil lamps. We tuck into the food sitting out under the green-tinged summer night sky. Grandpa refuses to look up.
“I ‘member the first night of that damned goblin’ light. Even have a picture of it hovering over the bay …” Grandpa’s voice hitches, “I ‘member television, radios, computers …”
“Pops,” Dad’s voice is calm, “It’s alien but it’s here to stay. We’re never getting back electricity.”
“…the day the cars stopped and planes fell from the sky.”
**************************
Your turn.
‘I’m as good as dead!’
He had not yet reached that zone where April night skies were too bright for the aurora. That lay still many weeks’ trek across the now-melting snow, the soon-to-melt lake and river ice.
The mob chasing him out of Indiana was still pursuing him, as he knew from the smell of tar and brimstone that wafted on any southerly breeze. They had not been deterred by deep snow, nor clouds of ravenous mosquitoes, nor packs of hunting wolves.
No matter how many of his pursuers fell, that damn TV station sent more.
“Come on out dear, there’s now sense hiding in the house.”
I turned back to gaze north at the glowing green night sky as my wife slowly emerged from our little suburban Virginia home.
“He was right you know, we would truly know if Iran broke the ‘agreement’.”
I put my arm around the love of my life and we gazed at the sight of all that DC marble dust, glowing softly, as it fell to earth on us.
Eleven is the eleventh lonliest number that you’ll ever do.
No need to borealis you with the rest.
So.
“Ah, we’ve got a serious problem…”, the voice on the radio sounded muffled and, truth be told, a bit panicked. Doc waited for the punchline, “I can’t describe it, you need to look outside.”
Doc rubbed his temples and walked, rather slowly, over to the periscope. It was worse than he thought possible. He walked back to the radio.
“Hey, Area Niner, has anyone noticed?”
“Impossible not to sir, it’s really bad.”
“Are you suited up?”
“When they get there, tell them they should at least get masked.”
“Roger. Then what?”
“Follow the usual protocol. You know, Blame the dog”.
[…] Smitty: 100 Word Challenge (via Darleen Click) […]
I shouldn’t have eaten it. Why did I eat it? I can see myself about to eat it. Don’t eat it! I am always eating it. I will never eat it. I ate it long ago and the wind is so loud and I can’t look at my hands. I dare not look at my hands.
I have seen with my eyes with my skin things and shapes that my brain cannot hold. I have tasted time and smelled numbers. My mouth is a cauldron of spit and chemistry unbound by sense. Oh why did I eat a fairy’s seat?
this one doesn’t inspire me it looks fake like it’s just a filter effect or something
i love Mr. pal’s one though
Go north, young hamster.
How come they pronounce Clerk Clark?
Who knows? Probably for the same reason they pronounce Ralph Rafe. They’re just goofy that way. Or they have their own traditions same as us, but different.
Could be. Still, we get to have the equations too, which is invigorating. Everybody gets to have them all at the same time. They’re especially neat that way. Unlike, say, with that block of cheese you just took from the picnic basket. Hand me a biscuit while you’re in there, wouldja? So that’s about the only instance where we get to have our cake and eat it.
some day i will for sure Mr. M
“Yeeeaaahhh!!! Imma shakin’ at the knees!” I look up to the union of intersections above my head (?), screaming “BLLAACCKK! TAAKKEE MEEE!!” GOD I only beg that YOU bless the fool that hung me here with the same blessing that has been blessed upon me. PULSATING RHYTHMS!!! Intense heat and freezing cold ! Memory, take a breath. Remember!? Wait, where what!? No more. Darknessss ddark ne s s .
“Mr. Chekov, I asked you to beam the landing party to the planet, not the planet to the landing party.”