Inspiration Monday: Mortal Water

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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The last part!!!

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

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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.”

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Echoes in the Vacuum: Part IV

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This is the penultimate chapter! Read Part I, Part II and Part III first.

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Part IV

time lapse photo of stars

Image by Dhilung

 

For two days, the boy did nothing. He couldn’t sleep. He barely ate. He swept the same section of floor twenty times before remembering to move. He watched the comet; he watched the winged people. And he felt a cold sickness grow inside him.

What was he to do?

If he said nothing, those beautiful winged people would certainly die. But he could go on living his life.

And who knew if telling anyone would even save those people? If someone had covered up their existence, would that someone not also cover up their destruction? And would they not have to kill him to do it?

But the more he watched the winged people through the great telescope, the less he could stand it. Until finally, when the pile of rickety joints arrived at the observatory one night, he found the boy sitting on the metal steps instead of sweeping the floor. The boy’s face was pale. He trembled ever so slightly.

The old man walked in and stood in front of the boy. He folded his arms.

“What’s the matter with you?”

The boy looked up at him. His eyes and nose were red, as if he’d been crying. He took a deep breath.

“I looked at Gallun-Z,” he said softly. “There are people there. Wonderful, winged people.”

The old man swore. “I told you not to use the scope when I’m not—”

“They’re all going to die!” interrupted the boy. “There’s a comet. I calculated…”

“Forget it,” snapped the old man, turning toward the supply closet. “There’s nothing you can do. This is why I told you—”

“But we can have the entire S.D. fleet there in an instant!” protested the boy, jumping to his feet. “If we only told them. There’s time to evacuate. Or destroy the comet with a missile or something. Twenty-one days. That’s time.”

He was breathing heavily, heart pounding. But the old man moved with characteristic slowness as he opened the closet door and drew out the broom.

He held out the broom to the boy.

The boy stared, ready to cry. Did the old man not hear him?

“I looked on the webs for Gallun,” he tried to keep his voice steady. “The pictures were all wrong. Someone in the S.D. program is trying to cover it up. But we have to do something; we have to find someone who’s willing to save them.”

The old man shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with those pictures.”

“But I saw. Through the scope. Look for yourself!” The boy ran up the steps and began throwing switches and turning knobs to aim the scope at Gallun. “There’s thousands of creatures there. Like birds, but they’re people. They have cities, and…”

“You can’t help them.”

“But someone—”

“They’re already dead.”

“We have twenty-one days!”

“They all died already, boy,” the old man’s voice was softer. “Thousands of years ago.”

The boy blinked at him.

“Don’t you know what a light-year is, boy? You haven’t been looking at people. You’ve been looking at echoes; light that’s been traveling since before you were born. You’ve been looking at the past. We could send the whole S.D. fleet there today and find exactly what you saw on the webs. It’s a dead planet. There’s nothing we can do.”

The boy cried.

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Tune in tomorrow for the final chapter, Part V!

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