This "Tendulkar" just isn't Cricket....

[Ursa major]

This is my 9,999th post, which means that the one that follows will be my 10,000th, my "Tendulkar". Yes, amazing as it seems, I've posted one hundred hundred (counted) posts.

And as tradition requires, any post whose number ends in (at least) three zeros must contain text requiring a critique.


As the following post is such a special one, I've decided to include the first scene of an otherwise yet-to-be-written (if ever) novel. The inspiration came from two comments made by a panel of publishing industry big-wigs: Gillian Redfearn, Bella Pagan, Ian Drury and John Jarrold. The first I'm sure about: "Not every book has to start with a car chase." Of the second comment, I'm less sure, but as both the versions swirling round my head contain a spoiler, I can save my embarrassment by keeping them to myself, at least for the moment.

But enough of me waffling on. (There's enough of that in the post below!)

Increase your eye strain by reading:

[Ursa major]

Dragooned

In which Melanie discovers that not all those in need of her help ask nicely.

The highway ahead exploded into flame. Swerving to avoid the melting tarmac, Mel careened into the scrubland along the forest’s edge. Her old hatchback, which had trouble coping with decent roads, complained loudly.

“I’m doing my best,” she said. “It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.” As if talking to a heap of junk would help.

Up above, a streak of fire burst through the low clouds. This one ought to miss her by a good distance: the uneven ground and low bushes had slowed the car right down. Perhaps she should stop and let the Earth’s motion carry the danger away.

Her foot was hovering over the brake pedal as the meteoroid struck the ground with a great W-u-u-u-u-u-mph, igniting the brush and the forest beyond. Flames leapt from tree to tree, heading towards her, carried by the strong wind.

She gunned the car back towards the highway. Another fireball engulfed the scrub behind her, missing her by less than thirty metres. There was something odd about the strike, but nothing she could put her finger on.

Once back on the road, she accelerated hard, her progress impeded only by the occasional crashing of gears. Far to her right, the clouds glowed from within. Maybe now she was moving out of the danger area. She deserved some good luck. So far, every meteor she’d seen – a good dozen by now – had struck the ground. She eased off the gas pedal.

A fireball broke through the clouds, heading straight for her. That wasn’t right. Meteors in a storm travelled along parallel paths. An optical illusion could make it look as if they were spreading out from a single point. This was different. They were converging. On her. And the car wouldn’t accelerate fast enough.

She changed down. The screaming of the engine was quickly drowned out by the wuumph of the impact. Far too close. In the mirror, the fiery ball seemed to flow as a liquid from the point of impact. That wasn’t right.

For a moment, she thought herself the target of some avenging angel, determinedly raining its fiery judgement down upon her. For God’s sake. Get. A. Grip. Paranoia wasn’t going to help. Nothing could. No car could outrun a meteor or the flames it brought. Nowhere was safe: road and land seemed equally susceptible to the fire. The flames bathed landscape and clouds alike in an orange glow, providing no hiding place. The smoke would only choke her.

The sight of a wall of flame far ahead – how had that happened without a meteor strike? – proved to be the last straw. She saw no point in going on. She stomped on the brake pedal, bringing more car-centred complaints. She was damned if she was going to provide a second’s more sport for her pursuer, however imaginary.

The car was swallowed up by shadow, as if a vast, handle-less umbrella had been dropped on her from above. The air reeked of burnt rubber. Mel wound up the window, but this did little to halt the rise in temperature. She would be burnt alive, with or without the aid of another fireball. She buried her face in her hands, hoping that she would be overcome by the heat before the flames licked at her flesh.

She heard a tap on the windscreen. Peering through her fingers with one eye, she saw a great blade, like an oversized black sickle, resting on the glass. Without thinking, she took a deep breath…. Of cold air? The smell of burning was still present, but no taste of smoke, or tang of roasting meat.

“Are you all right?” While the deep voice seemed to come from far away, Mel had no trouble hearing it. But the words, spoken in a thick accent she couldn’t place, were hard to decipher.

“Are… you… all… right?”

“What do you think?” Mel found herself too angry to play the victim.

“That you’re scared. That you fear for your life.”

I should do, she thought. But she didn’t. The certainty of death had emboldened her. “You don’t scare me.”

“Good. It’s what I hoped.”

“Of course it is.”

“You’d rather I left you to die?”

Left me to die? thought Mel. What did that mean? “Do what you like. Go on, walk away from all the destruction you’ve wrought. I can’t stop you.”

“You think this is my doing?”

“Feeling guilty?”

“I’ve just saved you. From our mutual foe.”

Utter nonsense, but there was no harm in playing along. “Who is…?”

“Bellis. She’s more misguided than evil. But powerful. And dangerous, as you’ve seen for yourself.”

“So she has access to weapons and a plane? Or a helicopter? Which makes her the air force’s problem.”

“Perhaps so, but I’d rather keep it in the family.”

“So you’re her brother, are you? Is your aircraft similarly armed to the teeth?” Even as Mel spoke the words, she realised how ridiculous they were. What sort of helicopter was silent? Or so large that it could carry the huge pavilion in which she found herself? And what about that sickle?

“I’m Eustoma, Bellis’s aunt, and I don’t require a vehicle or weapons to confront her. But we’ll have to continue our conversation later. The fire is coming too close. If we’re to deal with Bellis, we must leave now.”

We are to deal…? At that moment, Mel knew she was dreaming, that she’d already been overcome by the heat or the smoke. But the dream was so lucid, and never more so than when the dark interior of the tent was replaced by the angry yellow of approaching flames. Only a tiny gap remained, dead ahead.

The imminence of death drove Mel to action. She rammed the gear stick into first, jabbed at the gas pedal and released the clutch. The engine raced, as if meeting no resistance. There was none. She wasn’t moving. Or rather she wasn’t moving forward, but upwards and then to the right. And fast: the forest fire was soon far below and she could hear the rush of the wind. And something else: a slow deep pulsing, a throbbing, like the beating….

She looked up through the side window to see a huge black wing, a good fifty metres across, beating and flexing and carrying her to… what? Not safety.

[The Judge]

Woo-hoo!! Congratulations on the 10,000!!

I loved this, Ursa! I liked your other pieces, but they were too scientificky for my feeble brain to cope with, but a girl driving a car at speed and cursing at it -- that I can grasp!

I had a couple of minor queries/thoughts on a first read though, and one more majorish one. Minor first:

I was pretty sure she was English, or at least not American, so the use of "highway" was a bit odd. I know we do use it, but I'd have expected "road" or "dual carriageway" (it is the A31, isn't it...?) If she is American, perhaps make her speech more Americanish?

Another was "meteroid". I know that it's accurate, as it's only a meteorite if it survives the landing, but it's not a word which trips off most people's tongues, so unless she's a specialist (which I appreciate she might be as she knows about the parallel path thing), or it's become a word in common usage in this world/time, it might be worth changing it.

Also the "every meteor... had struck the ground" confused me on first reading. What else could they strike? Then I realised they should have been burnt up in the atmosphere (?I think??). It might be worth saying that, perhaps?

The majorish thing was her reaction to Eustoma and the whole conversation with her. I couldn't work out if she knew who Bellis was, ie Mel herself isn't an ordinary mortal or at least knows people who aren't, or whether she thought she was talking to Death as part of an hallucination or something -- the bit about knowing she's dreaming comes so late, and seems to refer to the joining war against Bellis. And her "too angry to be a victim" suggested she knew she was talking to someone real, not an apparition. Perhaps just a bigger hint as to which it is might be of help to eejits like me?

But apart from those quibbles, I thought it was excellent. Good pace, good POV, good character. Good all round! I want to know what happens next!

[Boneman]

Ditto!! Love the humour and the well-painted picture of my car....

[RJM Corbet]

Really nice. TEN THOUSAND POSTS!

Even better if you lose the blue ... ?


“Bellis. She’s more misguided than evil. But powerful. And dangerous, as you’ve seen for yourself.”

“So she Bellis has access to weapons and a plane?" Or a helicopter? Which makes her the air force’s problem.”

“Perhaps so, but "I’d rather keep it in the family.”

“So you’re her brother?" are you? Is your aircraft similarly armed to the teeth too?” Even as Mel spoke the words, she realised how ridiculous they were.

What sort of helicopter was silent? Or so large that it could carry the huge pavilion in which she found herself? And what about that sickle?

“I’m Eustoma, Bellis’s aunt,"I'm her aunt. Eustoma, and I don’t require a vehicle or weapons to confront her. We Must leave now." But we’ll have to continue our conversation later. The fire is coming too close. If we’re to deal with Bellis, we must leave now.”

We are to deal…? At that moment, Mel knew she was dreaming, that she’d already been overcome by the heat or the smoke. But the dream was so lucid, and never more so than when the dark interior of the tent was replaced by the angry yellow of approaching flames. Only a tiny gap remained, dead ahead...

[TheDustyZebra]

Wow. 10,000 posts. I don't think I can make that even if I live to be 100! And if they added in the Lounge, it's probably more like a thousand hundreds instead!

Congratulations!

I like the piece, and nothing jumps out at me for nit-picking, so I'll just second the motion that we need to see what happens next.

[Warren_Paul]

Congrats on 10k posts, Ursa.

I enjoyed this, although most of the dialogue meant nothing to me, but perhaps that's just context. If this is the opening scene, then I'm a bit wanting to have the blanks filled in, which of course would come in the following scenes I'm guessing. But I don't know, maybe a bit too much of, "I don't know what is going on" for my liking. Just the escape is fine, but adding the person with the scythe, then talking about some other person she is running away from, then the wings. It got a bit too much.

I wondered if she is a bit too calm and collected in her conversation, it's a wee bit blasé.

I really liked the way it started though, the action, and the talking back to her car - that was great.

[Glen]

I liked the opening of this - no messing about, straight into the action.

I agree with Warren's view that the character seems a bit blase. I couldn't work out the tone and style. If this was a comedy piece, like, say, Hitchhikers GTTG, the laid back tone would work well in a kind of tsk, tsk, eye roll, well if wasn't enough with the meteors now I'm meeting some kind of demi-god, and me late for work already, and on the day I gave up smoking kind of vibe. But it reads more like a serious piece so being laid back kinds of detracts from the tension.

Originally Posted by Ursa major

“It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.”

An example - I couldn't imagine anyone saying this with bits of universe falling down on them.

Originally Posted by Ursa major

Paranoia wasn’t going to help...for her pursuer, however imaginary

This quick about face surprised me - no sooner has she determined not to be paranoid, than she decides there is some kind of presence.

I found the initial exchange difficult to follow, and again the character has a new emotion, anger but no real amazement. I wasn't clear if she felt the new character was actually responsible for the destruction, or just thought he was a local eccentric. I didn't realise till later that this new character was female - not that its important that I did know - I think I perhaps thought male becuase of the sickle, which I read as scythe, which made me think death who is usually portrayed as male. And then the question about being a brother.

Overall I liked the pace and energy,and the writing is good, but I found it a bit confusing and would have liked to hear more about what was going on in Mel's head.

[Warren_Paul]

Originally Posted by Glen

I think I perhaps thought male becuase of the sickle, which I read as scythe, which made me think death who is usually portrayed as male. And then the question about being a brother.

That's interesting, I read it as scythe too, and also thought it was Death at first, and then later wasn't sure. Hmm, but yep, sickle, not scythe.

[alchemist]

Hearty congrats on the Tendulkar! I'm sure google will now register a big spike in searches for him.
Very good stuff Ursa. There were a couple of things I didn't quite get.
Is Eustoma actually there? She's not seen, but there's also very little surprise if she's just a disembodied voice.
Also, the tent reference confused me. Did the umbrella analogy evolve. Sorry if this is just me being thick.
I thought her thoughts on the trajectories of meteor showers slowed it a little.
I was happy with the tone. As Glen put it, I took it to be HGTTG-like from the first paragraph. Some of her thoughts and asides were very good. 'Twas enjoyable and I'd like to see where it's going.
Thanks for putting it up. We must now devise cricketing terms for all post counts.

[RJM Corbet]

Originally Posted by RJM Corbet

What sort of helicopter was silent? Or so large that it could carry the huge pavilion in which she found herself? And what about that sickle?

“I’m Eustoma, Bellis’s aunt, "I'm her aunt. Eustoma, and I don’t require a vehicle or weapons to confront her. We Must leave now." But we’ll have to continue our conversation later. The fire is coming too close. If we’re to deal with Bellis, we must leave now.”

We are to deal…? At that moment, Mel knew she was dreaming, that she’d already been overcome by the heat or the smoke. But the dream was so lucid ...

Sorry, out of respect for Ursa's work, I lost meaning in the process of pruning. So, for the sake of posterity, above section should read:

"I'm her aunt. Eustoma. And I don’t require a vehicle or weapons to confront her. If we're to deal with Bellis we must leave now."

We are to deal…? At that moment, Mel knew she was dreaming, that she’d already been overcome by the heat or the smoke. But the dream was so lucid ... etc.

Sorry Ursa ...

[springs]

I don't have much to add to the crits - I liked it, but did feel a little confused as to how I should read it - ironic, or straight. Knowing Ursa, I went for ironic...

But, congrats on 10000! and that didn't even count the last post thread....

[Parson]

Congrats Ursa! The story felt humorous to me from start to finish. The one big disconnect for me (which could well be a snippet problem) was I didn't understand how the girl could be totally ignorant of the possibility of an attack and yet totally cognizant of who might be responsible; especially as she knows about the likelihood of consecutive meteors striking the ground. I had her somewhere besides earth as the meteor shower began.

[ctg]

You know Ursa that I have a trouble with words as they are all so strange to me. I have every single time think hard what I put down and even then mistakes happen. But you didn't make a mistake with this one. It's brilliant and I for one, loved it. Probably not because of the same reasons others like it, but because it not only entertained me intellectually but it also gave me from the beginning another vision.

You might have hinted it, but to me, this smelled like a smouldering wisps of dragon breath from the beginning. And when you brought the oversized dark sickle in the picture, my suspicions only grew stronger to the point when you finished it with the wing beats. So I would like to do you an standing ovation. But I can't. Not because this is the internet, where everyone's faceless.

However your story isn't. Your story is a perfect example of what they meant in the panel and this one, even though it came close to a chase, came out as a might crash. Minus the bang and the wallop. So leave it there. It doesn't need anything.

Your an artist, Mister Bear.


PS. I'll lend your idea and post something that I'm not so precious about at the moment. How about fifteen hundred words on the ending of the cotm and the beginning of the god machice? Both has been closed in the draw after I got so many rejections.

[mosaix]

Hi, UM. Congrats on the 10,000.

There's only one sentence I'd change:

The imminence of death drove Mel to action. She rammed the gear stick into first, jabbed at the gas pedal and released the clutch.

To emphasise the action I'd make the sentence a little snappier:

The imminence of death drove Mel to action. She rammed the stick into first, jabbed at the gas and released the clutch.