Friday Fictioneers - "In the Woods... " - Revision

After having read some of the comments on my previous post, particularly the constructive criticism from newpillowbook (Thank you!), I have decided to rewrite this piece to try to cut extraneous adjectives and description, sticking to getting the story across, whilst still keeping some good description so long as it does not distract from the story.  I have managed to cut 61 words from the original 326 word flash fiction piece.  So it is now 265 words long.  I am hoping this improves the piece and still gives you vivid imagery of the scene.  Please let me know what you think!

---

In the Woods...

Gliding through the trees, a lithe and agile figure swings from bough to bough.  Clad in dark emerald suede, strong and supple, like the frame it covers.  A long cloak of scarlet curls wrap around her as she alights upon a sturdy limb, easing herself into a crouching position.  Her right hand unconsciously reaches for a vine behind her, whilst her left holds an elegantly curved bow horizontally in front of her.  Arianne cocks her head slightly as she spies a strange white shape moving along the forest floor beneath her.

The shape is that of a man, covered in a stark white armour appearing to be made of leather, with a white bowl for a helmet on his head.  He moves slowly, as if dragging his limbs through thick set honey, the open part of his helmet shimmering like a rippling stream.

Mesmerised by him, Arianne watches as he passes under her bough, swivelling round, she doesn’t allow him out of her sight.  Silently releasing her grip on the vine she slides an arrow from the quiver on her back.  Taking aim, her lips slightly ajar whilst squinting one eye, she holds her breath…  then shoots the arrow strong and straight, piercing the ground only a dragon’s breath from his right foot.

He pauses, stares at the arrow, then turns to follow the invisible line from the arrow’s quill to the bow it was shot from.

The beautiful wielder of the oak bow sits above him, her head held high as she gazes down at him, the corner of her lips leisurely curling up.

Friday Fictioneers - "Vertigo"

I've been inspired by Madison Woods Blog, particularly her weekly "Friday Fictioneers" Flash Fiction challenge.  So I thought I'd have a go!  (Here's hoping I get this right!).  The challenge is to write a 100 word (give or take) piece of flash fiction inspired by her photo prompt.  I post a link to Madison's story here, and post my story here.

(I would love to receive some constructive criticism on this, I am striving to improve my skills!).

The ship shudders as another explosion rips through it.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God” Jade mutters over and over again, the tears in her eyes blurring the vision of the console she so desperately clings to.

“Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship!” orders the tall burly Captain, grabbing a large pulse rifle and hurriedly punching keys on the wall.

“But Captain, the radiation! We’ll have to suit up!” she cries in disbelief.

“There‘s no time!” yells the Captain. As the doors hiss open, he scoops her tiny frame up in one sturdy arm and whisks her through the doors and out into the unknown.



Drabble Day "Apple"

I haven't written a Drabble in a while, so I thought I'd have a go at Aheila's latest Drabble challenge - Apple. Here's my attempt, a little over 100 words!

"An Apple was sitting on the teacher’s desk. Roxy hadn’t noticed it when she first got into class, but it was in plain sight now. She squinted at it for a moment, then returned her eyes to the blackboard. The ancient history teacher was waffling on monotonously, his white moustache hardly moving as he mumbled his way through the lesson. Nothing changes.

As she twisted a green curl between her fingers, a slight hum began to catch her ear. Drowsily her eyes drift back to the apple on the desk. It hums steadily louder as an incandescent blue light begins to surround it, growing stronger as the hum grows louder. Roxy rolled her eyes in annoyance, Just what I need!"

Hitch

Here's a short piece I tried to keep down to 100 words, but landed on 116 instead. It's inspired by the move Hitch starring Will Smith. I recently rewatched it and loved it. So here's a little Drabble Day style writing based on the main character...

Tall, dark, and handsome. That was how they’d described him. The description fit pretty good. A pretty generic description, although Alex Hitchens was anything but generic. With a suave style all his own, a walk and a smile that exuded confidence with every sway of his well built shoulders. One wink and a lopsided grin from him, and every woman he aimed it at, would gladly fall to her knees. No woman could resist him. Except the one woman who stole his heart. All the while he was busy teaching others how to win the woman of their dreams - it was the woman of his dreams that finally taught him how to fall in love.

Ghosts Of Time - Pages 2 & 3

Anya races down the corridor with superhuman efficiency, the stunned and staggering personnel in their blue uniforms, some dead some dying, don’t even slow her down as she weaves and leaps past them. She is a blur of deep red pvc and paper white hair streaming behind her, her artificial red pupil eyes fixed dead ahead in concentration of achieving her mission. Sparks fly and bodies strewn across her path don’t even slow her down.

Suddenly sliding to a halt in front of an access panel, Anya pulls a sidearm from her jacket and shoots electric bolts at one edge of the panel, burning a small hole through the locking mechanism. Smiling, she swings her right foot and kicks the panel in with one smooth movement. Replacing the firearm in it’s holster, she dives headfirst in.

Landing in a crouching position, Anya looks up to see she is in a smaller, more hexagonal corridor. Used more for maintenance than as a general access way. Though it would have to do for now. As she straightens up, she can hear an explosion behind her, and the screams of her comrades as laser fire fills the main corridor she just left, and the smell of burning flesh begins to seep into the access corridor she now stands in. Wrinkling her nose, she strides forward with renewed determination, putting as much distance between her and her enemy as she can. Reaching the end of the short corridor, she leaps up at a metal access ladder, grabs hold, and hauls herself up in double time.

Emerging from a hatchway in the floor, Anya finds herself in a small low ceiling compartment with various consoles and cables scattered around the edges. She closes and seals the hatchway beneath her. And rushes over to the console. Grabbing hold of what looks like a fancy dark green-grey metal cuff bracelet, Anya slips it on. She then starts punching keys on the console, and the viewscreen above starts lighting up with alien sigils. They had once seemed new and exciting to the human people, they had thought the aliens had come in peace, to share their technology with us. We should have learnt from our own past what happens when we discover new civilisations, at first we show them new and shiny things, then we want their land, and are willing to imprison and slaughter the so-called savage occupants of that land to get it. Only we aren’t the advanced civilisation arriving on new uncharted territory. This time we are the ‘savages’ fighting to keep our whole planet.

A bump from under the hatchway catches Anya’s attention away from the console. Startled, she looks at the hatch with wide eyes. “More time,” she mutters, “I just need a little more time.” With a shrug, she realises she’s in a time machine, time is the one thing she should have plenty of. Hammering away at the console’s keys, small windows flash up on the bright blue-lit viewscreen, only to disappear as more windows constantly flash up. Then one window lights up with a few short sigils and three dots after it. “Where to… ?” she breathes. Staring at the screen for a few brief seconds, Anya hears a heavy thud directly underneath the hatchway, making her shoulders physically jerk as her heart skips a beat. They’re close. She hits for keys in quick succession, hovers another second, then hit’s the bigger key on the right. Hovering paused a moment, Anya hears the reassuring sound of a whirring engine start up, and the whole compartment begins to vibrate. She smiles, she’s made it.

BOOM! The burst hatchway flies up into the compartment, hitting the low ceiling, and comes crashing down again, narrowly missing her nose as she ducks instinctively backwards. A deep throaty groan, and the ugly green skinned muscle-bound brute rears it’s heavy body through the hatchway. As it struggles, Anya draws her firearm, takes aim, and shoots an electric beam right in it’s eye, straight through what she thinks is it’s brain. The beast falls straight back down through the hatchway.

The compartment lurches and spins, so much so that Anya struggles to maintain her balance, knees half bent with her arms unsteadily held out, firearm still in hand. With a final lurch, and a blinding white glow all around her, Anya feels a wave of dizziness and nausea washing over her. She teeters, then her knees give way, she falls to the floor, unconscious before her head hit’s the metal grid floor.

Ghosts Of Time - Chapter One

Tumbling to the ground, Anya rolls onto her back and stares at the shuddering ceiling. The neon strip-light above flickers then sparks as it breaks loose at one end, dangling dangerously above her. Briefly flinching, Anya draws her arms and knees up to defend herself, sure her titanium bones will be able to protect her from any falling debris - so long as she protects her fleshy stomach. Why didn't they make bones to protect your abdomen? She's lost count of the amount of times some sharp instrument has pierced her gut.

A sudden hissing sound distracts her as she glances down the metal lined corridor to see the General stagger out of the lift shaft into the still-shaking corridor. He leans heavily on one arm propped against the wall. A portly man in a light blue military uniform, with plenty of honours emblazoned across his left breast pocket. In one lithe move, Anya flips her feet down to the ground, using the momentum to pull the rest of her body upright, and immediately salutes her superior officer.

"Enough of that," grunts the General, "I have a mission for you cyber-soldier."

Any snaps her saluting arm back to her side in fast military style. She nods in acknowledgment of his orders.

"The damned aliens have found us. You need to get the time machine and stop them." the General briefed her. "Go back in time, find where they have been before. They know our every move before we do. You might need a hacker." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "Don't use anybody alive. They might be a doppelganger alien. Only trust the dead, snatch them before they die, but cover it up. No one must suspect."

"Yes, Sir!" Anya answered obediently, as another shudder almost knocked them off their feet.

"And cyber-soldier?"

"Yes, Sir?" Anya replied.

"You're on your own. You screw this up, the whole damn world is doomed." the General warned. And as Anya eyes seemed to search his, he added, "Don't screw up!"

"I won't." Anya answered quietly.

For all her cybernetic enhancements, Anya was still human. A genetically grown and enhanced human, but she still had a living human brain alongside that cybernetic implant in her skull, she still knew fear, and pain, and hope. And she wasn't about to give up.

"Now go!" commanded the General.

Anya nodded, then turned and hurried away.

Watching Anya turn and hurry away, the General sighed, pulled out a small firearm, and pointed it to his own skull. "Godspeed you cyber-soldier, and don't let us down. We're all counting on you." he said grimly, then pulled the trigger. A short electronic sound, his body tensed, then collapsed like a heavy sack of potatoes and thudded to the ground, never to move again.

Drabble Day "Memory"

Here is this week's Drabble Day challenge, Aheila picked 'Memory' for us to do this time! I actually found this one quite difficult, and hope this didn't turn out too badly in the end. Please let me know what you think!

"Throwing the pen down in frustration, Emma rose from her desk and stomped over to the window. Arms folded across her chest, she stared at the dark streets below, almost feeling the weight of the dark clouds sinking into her already stooping shoulders. Her vision blurring with anger. When she could hold them back no longer, she squeezed her eyes shut caging her tears as they defiantly stung the backs of her eyes, as if they too felt the anguish raging in her heart. Turning back to the photo frame slammed face-down on her desk, she poured all her spite and malice at it through those piercing eyes."

Drabble Day 100 Word Story: "Analogy"

This week's Drabble Day challenge by Aheila is Analogy. I found this one much harder this week, but after thinking a moment on what my novel is mainly about, then comparing it to an event that happened outside my house last night, I found inspiration for this. I hope you like it!

"Time is like a car on a highway, it flows smooth and almost neverending. You think you are in control of it, you can bend it to your will. You can make the journey veer this way or that way, depending on which way you turn the wheel. You think you are in control, you think you know what you are doing. Nothing can stop you. Yet you forget to pay attention for a split-second, and your whole world is turned on it's head. You're spitting gravel and you've no idea how you got here. Or how to turn back."

Drabble Day 100 Word Story: "Ghost"

Eloise lifted the silver chamberstick to her lips, with the tiniest breath the candle went out. Smoke rising in a soft weaving plume. Behind her, a sudden white glow caught her attention. She turned to see a white lady, dressed in a waterfall of silk, with long white curls over pale skin.

“Will you come with me?” whispered the white lady, slowly extending a pale white hand out to her.

“To where?” Eloise asked.

“To Dream’s End, and new beginnings.” she whispered back.

Eloise shakily took her hand, and the white glow enveloped her. And all that she knew paled into insignificance.

Drabble Day 100 Word Story: "Edge"

Today I found Aheïla's Drabble Day post, a challenge to write a 100 word story, give or take five words, on whatever word prompt she chooses. Today she chose Edge. I really enjoyed having a go at this, I've never tried to write a piece of fiction so short, it really taught me to be concise with my writing, and find shorter ways of saying what I wanted. Thank you Aheïla for such a great challenge! Here's my story:

"Standing on the edge of a mid-nineteenth century roof, Anya gazes out over a golden haze covered skyline, smog slowly rising above the dark and soot stained London rooftops. Anya stands out in stark contrast with gleaming white hair, dark red eyes, and an almost matching red pvc military uniform.

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, Anya sighs, then in one swift movement she dives head-first off the tower of London. Falling like a missile with the ground rushing up to her and the wind whistling through her hair, Anya smiles. And for one brief moment, she feels free."

P.S. This isn't where the story ends, it's inspired by a science-fiction novel I'm currently researching and planning!

Short Fiction Post - "Ghosts Of Time"

Here's a short piece of fiction I just wrote about a character I've come up with for my new Ghosts Of Time story idea. It's set in an apocalyptic future where we meet him. I've just written and not edited it or changed anything, so please don't expect it to be perfect!

"Jesse stirred slightly in his uncomfortable bed. He was lying on a dirty blanket and encased in wood, which for some reason was baking hot. His mouth was dry and parched as he tried to unstick his tongue from it. Blinking his eyes in the half-light, he turned to his right to peek through the vertical sliver of light outside his makeshift bunk. All he could see was a shaft of sunlight showing up the grains of dust that gently filtered through the air, down towards the weathered floorboarding beneath them. All was still and all was quiet.

In one weary movement, Jesse pushed the sliding door as far as it would go to halfway down his body, he rolled and slid out of the wall-lining cupboard. Around the edges of the room were dusty circuit boards and bits of clapped out old machines that no longer worked, laid out there just in case they came in handy. Jesse loved the pattern of circuits on the boards, they had a kind of art-form to them. One of the few pleasures left to him in this world. Making his way to his knees, and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, he crawled over to another open cupboard and pulled out a small tin of food. The label was weathered, but if you looked closely, you could just make out it was an old tin of baked beans. Picking up a medium-sized screwdriver, which seemed to be left there for just that purpose, he carefully started to dig into the lid of the tin, and peel it open. Once he was in, in a well practiced move, Jesse slipped the screwdriver straight in his mouth and out again, in one sleek movement, and the shaft was clean. Carelessly placing the screwdriver on the side, without looking at it, his whole attention was focused on the juicy beans before him. Diving grubby fingers in eagerly, he scooped the beans straight into his mouth, guzzling them down cold."

Short Fiction Post - 'Invisible Jet'

As it's the New Year now, I've decided to have a practice writing scenes and little bits of prose to keep my writing skills up, and hopefully improve them, if I just aim to do between a few minutes to half an hour a day, I should be able to make progress with my writing! Here's hoping!

Here's a short piece I wrote today inspired by the One Minute Writer Blog, whose prompt today is 'Jet.' Only I didn't time myself, so may have done a little longer than a minute! Ooops!

I hope you like it!

Invisible Jet

Anya brought the sleek invisible jet hissing gently down towards the shoppers on the main streets of London, reassured that the low hum of it’s engines would be lost among the hustle and bustle of local shoppers passing by and the festive music pouring out from the open shop doorways inviting you in with a warm glow to battle the chill December air outside.

Looking out the transparent view pane, Anya could see the shoppers completely unaware her invisible jet was there. She sighed, a little despondent at the sight of the humans so engaged with their shopping. As if it were a life or death situation whether or not they would have the best Christmas Log on their table, or if they would be sold out by the time they arrive at the shop.

With a deep breath, Anya tucked a lock of brilliant white hair behind her ear, the rest neatly swept back from her icy pale skin, and turned her dark red eyes back down to her console, twiddling dials and pressing buttons to emit a series of beeps as she ran the basic system checks she always ran when she landed.