JUNE 2010 Writing Challenge -- HareBrain wins by a landslide!

[Sephiroth]

Here is the writing challenge for June 2010:

RULES:

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme, in 75 words or less
There should be a story, not just description
The title is not part of the word count -- or the story
One entry per person
Prose or poetry

All stories Copyright 2010 by their respective authors, who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here.



Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 23
Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 28
(June 30, in the case of a tie-breaker poll)

You do not have to submit a story in order to vote -- in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner


The Magnificent Prize:

The Dignified Congratulations/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers
Also, the privilege of choosing next month's theme or genre


This month's theme:
____________________

Transformation

Stories should be Science Fiction or Fantasy

[Karn Maeshalanadae]

The First Failure

“This is your last chance,” Ith-gar whispered to himself, climbing into the machine. Resigned to that fact, he motioned for the operator to throw the machine switch. There was a loud roar as it started up, and for Ith-gar, everything went black.
His was the first failure....or in the eyes of the military, success. But the rest of his race now saw him for what he was. A monster.

[Mouse]

Naughty

They say that if you find a feather on your doorstep you’ve had a visit from an angel.

Personally I blame the birds. Whenever I visit someone I try to leave a little more than a feather, otherwise what’s the point?

Not that I have feathers to leave. Not any more. I have a tendency to... misbehave. I had my wings stripped away. Punishment, you see.

But I won’t stop. I’m a demon in bed.

[Talysia]

To Rise Again

The embers smouldered, and a stray breeze blew tiny sparks enthusiastically back into life. The ash inside the charred nest trembled, and some shimmered out into the night, but the rest remained to accept the flames now licking around the edges. It grew larger and brighter, almost incandescent, until it rose up and soared into the sky.

A single fiery feather drifted down, trailing glittering motes in its wake, as life began anew.

[mygoditsraining]

Murdered every night but one

He hated the North, until he met her.
Wild, brash, beautiful; the flower that blossoms in winter.
A marriage of convenience called him home.
“It won’t always be like this,” he said. “Not when I am King.”

When he was King the North sensed weakness.
They raised a flag, and prepared for war.
He never saw her again.

He saw her daughter, though, laid under a blade.
He had sons to protect.

[Leisha]

The Calling Winds



She gazed at the charred landscape, where once roamed beasts, where once herds ran free. Death hung heavy in the air, settled on every surface.

Her race had come to this, to dust on the Winds.

Their time had passed. Her time. Gathering the last vestiges of power in the earth, in herself, she surrendered to its cries.

‘I give my life.’

Gales stirred, and grass grew anew. The rebirth had begun.

[Teresa Edgerton]

WORLD BUILDER

He works with meticulous care, crafting a tiny, perfect world inside a crystal eggshell.

Sprinkling stars of sugar across his miniature firmament, he choreographs their dances. A silver raindrop trail upon a window-pane becomes a thread of river. Scraps of memory give birth to knaves, tyrants, martyrs, lovers. They, too, dance to his tunes.

Exquisite now -- complete -- what will be its fate?

Abandoned with others like it: shining baubles of glass upon a dusty bookshelf.

[Sephiroth]

A PARTING OF THE WAYS

Windswept, not interesting. The cratered barrens, desolate and dying.

My spirit wheels in the upper atmosphere, revealing the stars – our destination.

I turn again to the fractured land below. Pinpoints of life scrabble over shattered churches.

Cousins. Ancestors.

Evolutionary yokels.

Sadness fills my heart. I turn away. Corpses all, they, but each of us chose freely.

My siblings reach out to me, feeling my distress. Our minds embrace, and we leave the past behind.

[TheDustyZebra]

Cecillia

You were first two breaths made one, then a quickening within.

Apprehension and fear expelled; anticipation heralded hope and joy.

Far too soon, you breathed our air in futile exaltation; our world changed.

Machine breathed strength but flesh was weak; fragile shell contained only redemption.

Heart of our hearts, now you are the heart of a dozen lives transformed.

Feathers on the wind, hopes and dreams rest on the breath of the newest tiny angel.

[J Riff]

Dark Tower
.
Darkness falls of a sudden. Run, begin the building of the tower !

Scramble ! Climb up and up on the backs of your kin, to form a new summit, with only death below. Freeze as others supersede you and the tower grows. Die in position, a vital link in the chain of survival.

Run now, the last of you, run ! Launch from the tower and drift, and seek the golden food of light.

[Chel]

Long Live...

All his life he had been nobody special. He had a good name but without money; no power. Then she arrived, changing him, changing everything. He killed for her, would have died for her; all for this moment.

The papers were signed, his name changed. She had made it all possible.

Now royal blood splashing, gore everywhere, the quill drifting slowly to the ground.

The King is dead, long live the King! ...and his Queen.

[The Procrastinator]

If


Scaled hands relaxed, easing. Weight bore the limp-necked body down into the darkess – the scaled hands made sure it grounded gently, the wobbling head striking no stone. Another's scaled hand thumped onto his shoulder from behind, raising a cloud of dried ochre, squeezing.
“Now you're a man, my son.”
He stared up at the unblinking stars. He supposed his father was right; but he did not feel like a man.

[mosaix]

Transfer of Power

“So,” said the interrogator, smiling and wiping blood from his knuckles, “about your drones. Who are they programmed to kidnap and when?”

“A woman, blonde, blue eyes, early thirties, married with 3 children who look a lot like their father.” He glanced at the clock. “About now.”

The interrogator sat very still.

“So,” said the prisoner, smiling and wiping blood from his lips, “about my escape. How can it be arranged and when?”

[Devil's Advocate]

The Fourth Age [a.k.a. The Circle Only Has One Side]

He was supposed to destroy it, long ago, but didn’t.

Staring at his reflection in the pond – ashen skin hanging loose from his emaciated body, his hair all but withered away – he wonders, briefly, if he’d made a mistake.

Then he opens his fist, and gazes at the glorious amber shine. The moonlight softly brushes its surface; curved perfection, mesmerizing in its splendor. It whispers to him. He caresses it, gently, and smiles.

“My… precious.”

[Ursa major]

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When the Sleepers Wake (or All is Wells that ends Wells)


Philip and Anna-Marie had been comatose for centuries. Medicines had kept pace with their worsening condition. Until now.

Suddenly awake, they’d torn free from their umbilical cords; they’d broken their shackles and were rampaging through the hospital.

Were they sane? Their history and behaviour argued against it. A nurse had, recklessly, declared them, "Nuts." Would the world survive their return, their malevolent power?


Hedging its bets, The Herald ran the headline: ‘Anna, Phil "Active" Shock!’


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