In the absence of this week’s Big Finish Folly (which will get published tomorrow, promise!), here’s another late addition to the collection of SFF Chronicles micro-fiction challenges, some of which I pinned up back in November. This latest one was based on the chosen theme of Tudorpunk, for which I was roundly blamed, having (possibly) coined the phrase in an earlier iteration of my blog. Naturally, being responsible for the challenge, however indirectly, I was coerced by various personages on the Chronicles to submit an entry. There were many better than mine especially as, since nobody had the faintest idea what Tudorpunk actually entailed, everybody went off in their own direction. Mine was probably the most traditional-sounding of the entries. Obviously, like The King entering an Elvis Presley lookey-likey contest, I didn’t win… 🙂
We Built Our Own Worlde
“’swounds! Will you write your way from this farce?”
“Not bloody likely.” The Bard pauses, ducks another elfin volley. “I’m out of ink!”
“Verily, a poore situationne!” – Burbage, archaically. “And ’tis of your devising!”
“Burn the bloody script!” – Kydd, limping. “’sblood!”
Will laughs. “Of course! A scheme! Hasten, brothers!”
Vein opened, he scripts blood upon earth. Imagination cloaks them inside fearsome armories.
And thus armed, they charge headlong into the swords of a thousand fey!
[exit, pursued by a Bear]
(For the curious, I’ll point out that the title is corrupted from the Inception soundtrack. Tenpole Tudor provide the punk…)
A couple of years ago I put in a few stories for the monthly 75-word challenges on SFF Chronicles. Here’s a couple of my favourites.
The Long Awaited Apotheosis of Arthur James Seymour III
The world fades. He climbs, exultant, and weaves another from nothing.
“Yes! I’ve done it! I’m immortal – a god! All life is mine to command!”
Incorporeal, he raises an entire civilisation to venerate him. And then destroys it. All in the space of a minute.
His fellow Ascended – a new pantheon – watch, unimpressed.
“Third one this week,” one says in passing.
“He’ll soon calm down,” another notes. “This ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Ecopoesis, or, sometimes the best defence is a damned good offence.
Hadley stares down. Wheezes. The air is thickening. The planet stares back: fungus-clad contours, resisting all terraforming attempts.
“Nukes. That’ll sort it.”
Murphy sits, exhausted. “Unlikely, sir. I’ve already tried irradiating the fungus samples.”
A more immediate problem: environmental systems intermittently cutting out. The call from ENVTech brings Hadley stumbling, light-headed and throat raw, to the filters. They’re clogged with fungus, spores hazing the air.
Hadley realises and laughs grimly. “We’re being terraformed.”
Moebius, or, how to avoid an Extinction Level Event for the (n=n+1)th time
Here, grab these – ignore the skies. Come with me. Attach them to the terminals here – and then over there.
We’ll skip back: avoid it completely. Fifty years should do it; we’ll be dead when it happens again.
No, but it helps us. And then we can find a way…
Yes! – wait, we’re still here! We haven’t gone back far enough!
Don’t panic, I’ll solve this, there’s still time.
Here, grab these –
Morning, all. A couple of years ago I managed to drag my attention away from Malessar’s Curse long enough to write a few short stories. Oddly, more were science fiction than fantasy – I’m not sure why, but it seems that my brand of fantasy just doesn’t suit the short form. My SF, on the the other hand (which usually has more F than S), does fit.
So, the point. Pantechnicon e-zine signed up my first effort, and kindly published it alongside Ian Whates and Ian Sales in its ninth (and last) issue. Whereupon, beset by hackers, Pantechnicon tumbled into the great black hole of lost sites.
But, not so! Very quietly, Pantechnicon’s back issues have appeared in a blog over here. So now you can read “This Place Sucks” all over again.