Inspiration Monday: Uncertainty is Worse

My dog always wants to eat my TARDIS blanket. And I can’t find my sonic screwdriver.

What do I do?

Read, friends. Read:

ChaoticallyYours

Tara

Lucy

Evan

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

UNCERTAINTY IS WORSE

SISTERS IN ARMS

DARE YOU TO LOOK

FLY CAREFULLY

GRAPHITE POISONING

Want to share your Inspiration Monday piece? Post it on your blog and then give me the link in the comments below (I’ll also love you more if you link back to me); I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post. No blog? Email your piece to me at stephanie (at) bekindrewrite (dot) com. (I do reserve the right to NOT link to a piece as stated in my Link Discretion Policy.)

Plus, get the InMon badge for your site here.

Happy writing!

Inspiration Monday: Mortal Water

Don’t you hate it when someone calls you from a survey group with a deceptively non-partisan name like “National Research,” convinces you they really do need your opinion because you’re not a retired grandparent like most of their respondents, and then asks you a bunch of rather biased questions?

I probably answered most of their questions the same way a retired grandparent would anyway. Bwahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!

And you can have even more fun with this weeks InMonster offerings:

Imaginator

Tara

Evan

Lucy

Avra-Sha

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

MORTAL WATER

WORDS WITHOUT BORDERS

INFANT SKY

COSMIC ARCHAEOLOGIST

PAINT IN THE WASHING MACHINE

Want to share your Inspiration Monday piece? Post it on your blog and then give me the link in the comments below (I’ll also love you more if you link back to me); I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post. No blog? Email your piece to me at stephanie (at) bekindrewrite (dot) com. (I do reserve the right to NOT link to a piece as stated in my Link Discretion Policy.)

Plus, get the InMon badge for your site here.

Happy writing!

Inspiration Monday: Brain Bleach

I was opening Evernote to jot down today’s title prompt when I discovered I had already written it there! It was an eerie, glitch-in-the-Matrix type feeling. So weird.

Another short week but the work is so good! Enjoy:

Lucy

Tara

Kate

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

BRAIN BLEACH

AIR BRAKES

BROADCASTING FROM THE FUTURE

IGNORE THE DELAY

EXTREME CONCENTRATION

Want to share your Inspiration Monday piece? Post it on your blog and then give me the link in the comments below (I’ll also love you more if you link back to me); I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post. No blog? Email your piece to me at stephanie (at) bekindrewrite (dot) com. (I do reserve the right to NOT link to a piece as stated in my Link Discretion Policy.)

Plus, get the InMon badge for your site here.

Happy writing!

Inspiration Monday: Songwright

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate we’re living in a time in which Chapstick exists? It’s the little things.

For more little things of big import, check out the mixture of fun and dark stories this week:

Imaginator

Tara

Evan

Lucy

Kate

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

SONGWRIGHT

MISSED SHOT

BATMAN’S KRYPTONITE

FUNERAL BALLOONS

WE DO APOLOGIZE

Want to share your Inspiration Monday piece? Post it on your blog and then give me the link in the comments below (I’ll also love you more if you link back to me); I’ll include a link to your piece in the next Inspiration Monday post. No blog? Email your piece to me at stephanie (at) bekindrewrite (dot) com. (I do reserve the right to NOT link to a piece as stated in my Link Discretion Policy.)

Plus, get the InMon badge for your site here.

Happy writing!

Echoes in the Vacuum: Part V

The last part!!!

Catch up: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Part V

rocket ship

Image by Jurvetson

The old man had made his own discoveries before the boy did. He had, in fact, seen the bird people on Gallun-Z not two years ago. But he, too, had sought photos on the webs, and made the same discovery the boy had. But being older and wiser, he had realized what it meant.

For awhile, he watched them anyway, determined to learn what he could. But there was only so much you could learn observing from afar, and he soon lost heart, afraid each time he looked would be the night he’d see their destruction.

Sometimes he wondered why it happened, why he’d seen it. What was the point? But God gave no answer, and science was indifferent.

Then the boy came. And he insisted on watching the winged people in their last days.

“It’ll only upset you,” protested the old man.

“But you said the past was important. I want to learn everything they can teach me, before it’s too late.”

So the man only sighed and walked away.

What an eerie feeling, watching a civilization that didn’t know it was about to die. Nothing changed in their behavior. They worked. They played. They scuffled. They danced in the light. Just like every day of their lives. They didn’t know it would be their last.

More than once, he considered that the old man was right; that he couldn’t handle watching them die. Their world grew blurry when he thought about it, and it wasn’t a problem with the scope.

But there was no way around it. The old man was right, of course. He should have realized. They all died long before he was born. Before Spacial Disruption was even invented.

Then a curious thing happened.

Ships appeared.

Men came out.

Men walked upon the surface of Gallun-Z.

The boy had not seen them land; he had missed the moment of meeting, but there they were. It looked as if they were communicating with the bird creatures.

And over the next several days, the whole planet seemed alive with activity. The winged people flew doubly fast, flitting this way and that, carrying packs with them.

Now the boy was watching as long as he could each night, until Earth and Gallun turned their faces away from each other, and he had to wait another several hours before he could look again.

Then the day came that everyone was gone. The ships. The men. The winged people.

Every city was empty. Still.

The rickety joints tottered in.

“What this time?” the old man asked him.

“They’re gone.”

The old man sensed something in the boy’s expression, which he didn’t understand. “Hmph,” he grunted to conceal his interest. “Did you figure out where the ships were from?”

“They were from Earth.”

“Couldn’t be.”

“They looked like men. And the lettering on the ships…it was like our lettering.”

“That’s not possible. They didn’t have Spacial Disruption that long ago.”

“They weren’t marked S.D.”

“Of course not.”

“…They were marked T.D.”

The man watched him a moment. “And what do you suppose that means?”

The boy hesitated. Then he looked the rickety joints in the eye.

“That one day,” he said. “I am going to save the people of Gallun.”