penthius

Hello? Is anyone there? Salut? I suppose I will have to rely on the word that my hosts/my captors/my rescuers have given me/us, that someone/anyone will be listening/reading/hearing/seeing this. Please pardon/fuck you/my strange accent/disability/speech pattern. That last was the anthropologist/me. She has been very helpful/an over-analyzing pain-in-the-butt to me/us. You will have heard of the passenger liner that went missing/exploded/was destroyed/quarantined. I/we was/were a passenger on her, going about my business/vacation when we contracted the plague.

Inspiration: "Dragostea Din Tei" - O-zone
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Given a good plot, this could be great fun to write, given the stylistic challenge. This would also be one of those cases where I could use different colors/fonts to signify different speakers. Actually, I should do that from the beginning--easier to remove the font/color changes than to put them in and code them right. Bold, italics, normal, underline could be used instead, too. Viewpoints rioting all over the page!

She was ecstatic when she got fired, in anticipation of the struggle and sorrow and then the vast relief and happiness to come. She laughed aloud when her boyfriend told her he needed his space, though she'd wept when he asked her out. The Ouroboros ring she wore turned and turned on her finger, a nervous twitch she had while reading job ads or personals alike. One day she found herself laughing with delight so sharp she had tears in her eyes while she stood in the middle of a grocery store, and she knew something truly dreadful had happened--but she'd get through it.

Inspiration: Ink Tea is YAY!
Yesterday at 10:02pm · Comment · LikeUnlike
Rose Norris
yay!
Yesterday at 10:19pm
Todd Wardrope
...it's spelled the same, both ways!
Yesterday at 10:29pm
Erin Busby
Mmm... palindromes of excitement... wow.
11 hours ago
Story Potential: High.
Notes: This is maybe the story, maybe not. Maybe there is more than one story here. But--something tying into cycles, and the way people balance out no matter what happens to them (scientifically speaking), and--stuff. Maybe it's magic realism, or maybe it's a literary (shudder) story written with a circular story structure. I can't grasp this idea, but its all floating around and promising to be awesome some day, so I'll write down this bit and maybe later, it will be.

End line: "She looked down at the scratch on her arm and began to cry from sheer happiness."

Inspiration: From "The Rules: Use or Abuse Them" panel at Wiscon.
Potential: High.
Notes: Maybe an endpoint for that story someone challenged me to go to for the darkest I could write, and the warm and fuzziest (though they thought it would be two stories).

The cat winced as it watched the struggles of the mice under the paws of it and its compatriots. This wasn't proper, wasn't fair, wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Synchronized, they bent their heads and snapped their teeth around the mice's throats. The cat did too. Although it had found that it could avoid the command, could refuse to obey, it didn't want to risk doing it when they were being so closely watched. The ones with the controls were there, watching with cold eyes and bad-smelling hands. The cat thought it was maybe not the only one who could resist the controls. It had its eye on one or two of the others, the ones who had hesitated momentarily. The bad-smelling ones would think it was just a delay--the cat had heard--

Inspiration: Time ticked over, and there was a cat sitting beside me.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Hmm. Cyborg...cats...trying to escape. I think I actually read a story (comic book?) like that. Not necessarily a bad idea, but not one I'm interested in writing.

Today, I killed my first puppy. I cried buckets about it for the rest of the day, and you know I'd never lie about a thing like that. Not to you, my specialest and most precious friends. You all know I'd never lie to you about anything--not about what I had for lunch, not about how he looked when I finally let him see my panties, and not about killing my first puppy. It felt weird. They make you carry the puppy around with you everywhere you go for the first two weeks of classes, to ease the disorientation of leaving behind your families, they say. They aren't telling the truth. I figured that out pretty soon, but some of the other kids really believed it. They named their puppies, and played with them, and had puppy races--

Inspiration: Thinking about summing up my day in my other journal.
Story Potential: Omigod-high!
Notes: I'm torn. The novel/blog format is so 2001, plus hello! difficult revenue stream issues, but that's what this really calls for. It's a long serial novel...I'd want to play around with RSS etc. Also, I'm thinking a "special" college, not a high school--though presumably the youngerers would like reading that sort of thing.

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Entries tagged with experimental

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Message: Science Fiction

Palindromes of Excitement: Genre Undetermined

Dark to Light: Horror

Cyborg Cats: Science Fiction

Today, I Killed My First Puppy: Y/A Adventure

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January 2025

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