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Weekly Contest #323
Seventy-seven. That's how many idiots are vying for the "honored" position of climbing the sacrificial ladder to god knows where. Correction. Seventy-six. I'm not an idiot. Call me a party pooper if you want, but I'm allergic to death. So, I'm a little less than whole-hearted about the contest. Although Alora continually reminds me that there is no Ladder God, it's just a ship using a chameleon shield to look like a storm cloud. "Well, at least," she says, "There's a ninety-five percent chance it's a ship." Crazy androids and their stupid ...
Weekly Contest #322
Alora and Bob want me to volunteer, although for entirely different reasons. Heck, even Grinfo and Freena think it's a fantastic idea. Why am I the only sane person around here? Everyone knows it's a bad idea to volunteer to be a sacrifice. Alora believes it's the only way for us to obtain the dylanium inside the Ladder God's stormy abode. And I agree we need it. We're not flying off this rock without dylanium. My dispute is whether this is the only way. Bob believes I'm a god because I can say Bob - it's a long story. Anyway, he thinks I ...
Weekly Contest #321
"We've got to make a great first impression," I said to Alora while kicking a rock off the path into a garden. A priest I hadn't seen retrieved the rock and placed it back on the path, giving me a dirty look, in a holy way, of course. "You need to stop kicking rocks. It never works out well for you." "Forget the rock. Focus. How do we impress the Shaman?" "I still don't know enough about their religion. The priests are not cooperative. Although I can understand why. None of them are happy with us for bringing the Elite Guard to their fron...
Weekly Contest #320
"I've never heard of Drocknine," the soldier didn't even try to hide his suspicion. "How far did you say you travelled?" He said as he motioned for a couple of soldiers to join him. My tongue felt too big for my mouth, and my limbs went all wobbly, like they were made of jello. It's a good thing Alora can't panic – being an android and all – because God knows I'm doing enough for the both of us, and the soldier sees it. "A month," Alora calmly answered. "That's a long way," the soldier began rifling through our sacks. "What brings you to ...
Weekly Contest #319
The monster's hot, steamy breath smelled like decayed skunk. My stomach churned, and I almost lost my breakfast, but that would be disastrous, so I covered my mouth and forced it down. My chameleon suit can keep me from being seen, but it can't hide puke. The giant tiger-like creature sharpened its claws on the other side of the massive tree I had chosen to hide behind. Even as a kid, I was never any good at finding hiding places, and I was usually the first one found. Actually, I'm not good at doing anything on this alien planet. I should ...
Weekly Contest #318
Crash landing sucks, but at least we're still breathing. Well, at least I am. Alora doesn't breathe, but a quick diagnostic check showed her systems functioning at optimal levels. We checked the star cruiser next, finding minor damage. If it weren't for the fact that our dylanium deteriorated when we ran into that solar storm, we would have been able to fly off this primitive planet without any trouble. But our dylanium did deteriorate, making our star cruiser as useful as a paperweight. Dylanium is a fairly ambiguous mineral on planets wit...
Weekly Contest #317
He appeared out of nowhere, bleeding profusely. I ran to help, but he stopped me. He held a small, octagon-shaped device and motioned for me to take it. I grabbed the blood-covered object and noticed its edges contained strange, otherworldly markings. "You must stop her!" The dying man coughed up blood. "The Lion must survive!" He fell, but regained his balance. "If she succeeds. Earth will undergo a hundred-year civil war. The Earth you know will never exist." He attempted to speak again, but started convulsing, and fell face down on the ...
Weekly Contest #310
If I can get my hands on one of the Prompters' pens, I can save Anne Servago. No one knows how the murderous pens work; I suspect the Devil himself endowed them with his power, but any story written with their black ink comes true. I wrote a story where Anne Servago dies, but I didn't realize the power of the pen until Cliff Strafford. Cliff Strafford died yesterday. That's when the truth became clear. The Prompters gave me two prompts with specific character names, instructing me to end my stories with the character's death, which I did de...
Weekly Contest #309
Technically, the law says it's illegal, but who cares. Honoring my father's last request is worth the risk. Just how I'm going to spread his ashes over Niagara Falls is fuzzy. Dad would say, "Just wing it. Life isn't planned, it's experienced." My hometown of Buffalo is only twenty minutes from the Falls, so I'm far from being a tourist, but my instincts are telling me to dress like one. If a ranger gets a whiff of my intentions, he'll ban me from the park, ending all hopes of accomplishing my task. Dressed in my "Dad Bod" t-shirt, blue je...
Weekly Contest #308
I'm such an idiot! I'm unable to check into my hotel. Eat! Buy souvenirs! I've ruined my vacation before it even got started. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Okay, get a grip, Pam. Think calmly. I need to retrace my steps. That's all. I probably dropped it nearby. But what if someone already picked it up? Panic clawed to regain control. They could be buying "Frozen Dead Guy" t-shirts and eating Frozen Dead Guy ice cream purchased with my credit card. I'm so stupid! Why didn't I download the app? How can I freeze my card without th...
Weekly Contest #300
"Who left their shoes!? Seriously man! You have no shoes! Come on, somebody, anybody!" Darren Doorful was having a bad day. No one mentioned his twenty-fifth anniversary with the TSA. He knew the young-ens wouldn't, but his uppers should have. Clueless faces turned towards Darren without saying a word. No one came forward to claim the abandoned bucket. "These shoes didn't just walk in here by themselves. They got to belong to somebody!" He scanned the travelers like an eagle for prey. They scattered, adverting their eyes, desperately try...
Weekly Contest #299
"Did you try restarting the transporter?" "Seriously? Do you think I'd call if it were that easy?" The tech support guy stared blankly at me with the fakest smile ever. He didn't blink once. "Hello!" I banged my call screen. "Yes, sir. Did you try restarting?" "Are you listening? Of course, I did!" The tech guy's fake smile widened, and he spewed out several more suggestions, each one more basic than the first. I parried his suggestions with ease – this isn't the first time I've messed with this transporter – until I had enough. I dema...
Weekly Contest #295
"What's in that chicken soup of yours?" Stacy, a big-boned nurse in charge of the COVID wing, shook her head in disbelief. "All four of your patients took a turn for the better. They'll probably be able to leave soon." Irene had just exited a patient's room who was fighting COVID-19. She blinked several times and adjusted her glasses. She never knew how to handle compliments but answered with a sweet old voice, "I get my chicken from Walmart." "You're so funny. We all know the secret is you. You've been so helpful during this pandemic." "...
Weekly Contest #294
I'm looking for someone to tell me if I am the chosen one. So far, I've asked a knight, a wise man, and a wizard. I got nowhere with the first two, but the wizard pointed me to Mordrone, an old dragon who might know. Unfortunately, Mordrone was just as likely to eat me as tell me what I wanted to know; it mattered which side of the horde he woke up on. No matter the risk, I had to find out. If I discover I am the chosen one, I need to save whoever I'm supposed to be saving. So I trekked to the dragon's cave and asked my question. "Excuse m...
Weekly Contest #293
"I'm late!" I finished drying off, splashed some cologne, smeared deodorant, and brushed my teeth. She expected me to be there to help calm her nerves. How in the world did I lose track of time? I'm never late. I jumped into my clothes and dashed out the door. I tried starting my car but had forgotten my keys. What's wrong with me? I never forget my keys. Between losing track of time and forgetting my keys, I was beginning to believe the universe was trying to tell me something. I don't believe in coincidences. Keeping the speedometer u...
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