Amy Nichelason, a veterinarian and clinical assistant professor of primary care services at the University of Wisconsin-Madison School of Veterinary Medicine ... says it's not difficult to understand why dogs might enjoy riding with their heads out the window. With their keen sense of smell, “it really is just like sensory overload,” Nichelason says. “It’s like me in the candy store.”

Btw: The veterinarian doesn't recommend letting your dog do that, but you will, won't you... for the reason above. 

#dogs #dogsofmastodon 

 Here's a #challenge:

Pay attention until you hear your inner voice commenting.
Stop the inner voice from speaking.
Notice the quiet and keep breathing.
Notice when the voice sneaks back in and natters.
Try again, now or later, until you can get the quiet to last.

If you are a writer, start writing quickly between 3 and 4. Remember, #commentingIsCool.

#BoostingIsSharing

#author #writingCommunity #writersOfMastodon #writing #writer #artist #photograpy 

 #uspol  #Gaza and #Palestine with some #Trump quotes. Ask yourself, if that's your issue, who are you going to #vote for?

...[O]n Monday, Trump said something about the Middle East that is significant. He said that Gaza could be rebuilt "better than Monaco," the Mediterranean tax-haven for the ultra wealthy. Trump said of Gaza: "It has the best location in the Middle East, the best water, the best everything." That's the real estate developer in him speaking.

The idea of turning Gaza into Monaco, or at least into Miami Beach East, is not new with the Trump family. Jared Kushner made the same point earlier this year, adding a small detail. Kushner said that the coastline was "very valuable waterfront property." He envisioned filling it with luxury condos and five-star hotels.

The only problem with Trump's plan and young Jared's plan is that Gaza is not empty. Over two million Gazans live in the Gaza Strip. How would they fit into these plans? Trump doesn't say, but the implication is that they should be gotten rid of somehow. Kushner is more explicit. He wants Israel to bulldoze an area in the Negev Desert and transport the Gazans there so he can make lots of money developing Gaza into Miami Beach East or now maybe Monaco.

#boostingIsSharing 

#election #kamalaharris #kamala #vote a #democrat ticket

https://www.electoral-vote.com/evp2024/Items/Oct10-3.html 

 Doggoneit! People gone. Expecting to know immediately.  

#BoostingIsSharing #dogs #dog #dogsofmastodon

https://eldritchcafe.files.fedi.monster/media_attachments/files/113/274/875/127/468/379/original/9d5882ab5c56a823.mp4 

 Los Angeles 4.4 #earthquake 4 km north of me in Highland Park, confirmed by USGS. Yep, local. If it's short, that's a good sign it's otherwise not a natural disaster. Sitting on the throne when it happened, thing, "You know sitting here and this is happening?"

https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112950679549946085

#funny #humor #humour 

 These signs are real. All of them. Including THAT one. Is the telephone number divisible or factorable by 666? Found in LA.

#Funny #Humor #WritingPrompt? #WritersOfMastodon #WritingCommunity

https://eldritchcafe.files.fedi.monster/media_attachments/files/112/527/168/657/735/250/original/07ca9313809c948c.jpeg 

 I announced at work today that I am retiring. 

 

#WordWeavers 10.10 — Secondary character POV: You can spend a whole day with the MC. What will you do?

[Bolt speaking:] I can, we will? Wow, she's soooo busy these days. 

I really like her, ya know, and it ain't that she saved my flapping life, neither. She's a get-what-you-see type devil-girl and real easy to talk to, and the best part is she's also physical. It's like being a teenager again wit her. She likes horse'n around if you give her the first push, and she'll gossip so long as I make sure nobody see us bein' girly together.

Certainly, she'll want to train with me—I'm going to be the captain of her guard, after all! She'll enjoy pummeling me into the ground, but I'll bring up the armor she's asked me not to train with, and wheedle her into helping me find more of the embedded miracles. She nerds out about working miracles, ya know.

I'll take her to lunch at the tea house Director Rainy Days gave her command performance at. Not only was the tea tasty, but the scones were fluffy and ta die fer. I'm sure we'll get great service, considering who first took me there! 

For dinner, I finally found a Fish & Fry dive in Home City, in a low class part of town, but still; it's run by a day angel family who's lived there five generations. I'll insist on flying her up to the rooftop terrace. I'll insist. I know she likes being held, tho she ain't admitting it to no one. I like holding her, natch. [Bolt winks.]

The rest of the day... I'll do anything she wants. Anything!

[Author retains copyright.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSstory 

 

#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 2 Nbr 8 — Rough, complete or not at all. How do you plan your writing?

For larger works, I do a lot of thinking about the character or the event that interests me. If it feels serious, I often write a treatment. That's a short summary of events that popped into my conscious. It might even be a bulleted list, which becomes the story bible. It always includes what made the MC think about what they're about to undertake, their beginning agenda and their ultimate goal, and if that would change. If I can't come up with an ending, I try not to start writing.

For my very short endeavors, the thinking part is often enough so long as I know how it should end. This describes most of what I present on Mastodon, and very specifically the (hashtag)Writever micro fiction stories I'm completing mostly daily. They're short, fun, and somewhat dark considering the themes, and you can find them here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111173835020993722

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSdiscussion 

 @ae1a0ada 
For the record, I like J-Pop, too. This is /nice./ I have Falco, Nena (99 Luftballoons), Lautsprecher (Omnibus), and Raminstein (Du Hast) in my playlist. I am definitely adding this Blutengel. I'm love the dark sound and driving beat. It's shades of what I like in /Du Hast./ I'm a sucker for piano in a song, too. Fortunately my German is rusty. I'll not make the mistake I made when I translated the lyrics I did for a Spanish song, and was forever creeped out!

Thank you. 

 

#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 2 Nbr 7 — Have you ever seen a TV show or movie so close to one of your ideas you wished you'd written it?

No. But many are the TV episodes or movies I could have written better, or have fit well on the writing staff. 

Sorry, no modesty here. I'm a sucker for a good story, but a potentially good story fumbled, or made "Hollywood" because of stupid concessions to stupid ideas of what sells tickets, infuriates me.

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSdiscussion 

 

#WordWeavers 10.7 — How does your MC handle strong emotions?

She's a pretty unemotional person. On the outside. 

Inside, it's telling. My stories are all 1st person. She even cries sometimes, but she'll never admit it. 

That all changes when she discovers she can love. She feels her heart open up. 

And...

She /changes./

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSstory #RSdiscussion 

 How long do adult mosquitos live? I've got one that keeps flying across my computer screen, pretending to be a vampire (which it is), trying to terrorize me in the dark room. It magically defies my attempts to swat, and look totally ambivalent to garlic. 

 

#PennedPossibilities 94 — What is your MC or SC's biggest secret?


My devil-girl MC ran away from home as soon as she was grown enough to masquerade as an adult. 

It didn't end well, at first, but she learned something about herself. A lot, actually. She had heart learned she could keep herself from ever being chattel again. 

She's an elite, a ruler in training, but with interest only in thaumaturgy, which her tutors refused to teach her. Being an ascetic runaway, camping or earning enough for a hostel so she could study her books, suits her well. 

People learned of her talents. They used her, but she didn't mind so long as she kept her secret secret, and still had her books and could read and practice her miracles at the end of the day. 

Found out to be this one specific high-value runaway, she'd be dragged home in chains.  She's certain it would be the death of her—

Or that of the person with the temerity to trap her.

[Author retains copyright.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSdiscussion 

 

#WordWeavers 9.27 deuxième partie — Do any children under two factor into your story? [Well, since my response changed, I'm posting again. Forgive me, please: Proud parent.]

Yes. Definitely under two, two days, that is. Two hours, likely. In a side story based on my current SFF series, staring the deeply evil but sympathetic main series antagonist. She's just given birth and the "oversized red wrinkled raisin" will become at least a Lucas-style MacGuffin for the ending of the story, or a minor character as a devil-baby girl forced to live in the trees amongst night angels.  /Child's/ debut is in (hashtag)Writever 10.9 10.31, just posted, which you can read here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111191533450077751.

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSdiscussion 

 This is a fabulous panel and it implies so much about the story, not only in their expressions, and a hint of an autumnal romance, the fellow in the middle is the only character showing skin. Nice coloring. 👍​ This would be a great title page for a graphic novel, especially with the room left for titling at the top. 

 I've just realized being an author is bad for your health. Second night in a row, I've awoken thinking about the story I fell asleep musing about just a couple hours before... then couldn't sleep for three hours.  Arrgghhh!

#writing #writingCommunity #writersOfMastodon 

 

#PennedPossibilities — 93 — What makes your MC or SC's skin crawl? What do they hate most?

Two questions, two answers.

What makes your MC or SC's skin crawl? When people hit on her, though she'll usually preen at first. She's exceptionally average looking, kind of tall on top of it, kind of menacing if you look at her the right way, and lacking curves that are considered attractive (men want meat on them bones). The reason she's being hit on is never what it appears to be—nor might lead to something she might enjoy.

What do they hate most? Seeing someone being hurt. She /will/ step into a scene where she has no business being when others would gawk or pretend it isn't happening. 

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 
#RSdiscussion 

 

#Music2WriteBy 31005: /Rivers/ by Thomas Jack

Today I initiate my #music thread with the above song. Recently, I recovered my Apple Music "On the Go" playlist when it didn't transfer to the new phone. It devastated me that I thought I'd lost all those songs. Why? /They map my recent writing career./ Some inspired scenes, as does today's selection, while others have inspired entire stories—and I remember each when I hear the song. Many define the vibe of the story; others simply get me in the writing mood. Whilst I am heavily in Trance, Progressive, and House, lots of my music is pop or eclectic. I have a few oldies mixed in, including anime with a sprinkling of musical rap.  

I plan to share where each song fits into my writing and I'll begin below. Consider following the hashtag.

/Rivers/, the blue-cover single, is romantically evocative. For me, it speaks to the transience of love and human relationships. It appears in my DJ stories in the final scene of a novella where it play in the background. Having won praise and secret recognition for not-so-secretly helping save the life of thousands of her fans, the DJ MC is feeling strong. Strong enough to corner her high school crush (who's prominent in the story). He's in her audience and she parts the dancing fans like the red sea, sashaying up while singing, to dance with him. The scene is sweet and ends with them kissing as they dance, with the certainty that they'll hook up after the curtain falls.

I'm providing a YouTube link, but I'm not sure that's necessary. It seems that practically everyone has some streaming service they use and will probably use that. If you think the YouTube link should be included, please reply to say so.

#BoostingIsSharing

https://youtu.be/JwtsEpUEgCY

#music #listen #listening #RSmusic
#fiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 

 I stood there, having stopped him and his friends in the hall. I stuttered half a minute until he rolled his eyes. I blushed. Barely appropriate for getting what I needed in middle school; embarrassing at university. I'd turned to stone in his cockatrice gaze as he spoke. "You're tall, plain, gawky, lacking any curves, almost flat. Your magic lacks power. Smart, I'll grant you that much, but timidity is /never/ attractive, nor is it sexy."

I stuttered, arms crossed, hands clasped at waist level, protecting my—

I was a graduate student Phd candidate in Calculative Thaumaturgy. I taught classes, one that he attended. He was a year from his baccalaureate. Yet, /physically,/ he was my /everything./ A whiff of his lavender cologne would turn me in a hall, looking into classrooms. Very intelligent, too, despite his arrogance. I could /learn/ things from him, in addition to what my betraying body wanted to learn.

His friends laughed with him as they turned, walking away, leaving me—

Mortified.

I still wanted him. Hormones and pheromones? Doubtless. I'd made a scene. I heard hushed voices, found impetus, and rushed away.

I sat at my desk in the graduate dorm, wiping hot tears that had come unexpectedly. I wasn't sure I liked myself, but my late mother's words echoed in my head and I pulled out the contents of the bottom drawer.

A white noh mask. Black sumi-e brush strokes were incised through the surface, implying a face and a kanji at the same time, but spelled nothing. Splashes of red and yellow paint hinted it represented a lion.

"If you need courage or solace, wear it," Mother had said on her death bed, wounded in battle. She'd lived a full life, nonetheless. An anonymous war orphan as a toddler, she'd gone on to rule a prefecture.

On the inner surface was inscribed 貪欲. /Avarice./The kanji glowed faintly electric blue, only when you read them.

Two hours later, I put it on. It fit perfectly, as if carved for my face. Assembled of worked bone, the interior nonetheless felt soft and silky against my forehead, temple, and chin. I smelled chrysanthemums. I breathed in freely and felt immediately better. I felt...

Powerful...

Hidden...

Anonymous...

The mask thumped on the blue carpeted floor. I found myself in a different dorm. Undergraduate. Institutional white walls. Two desks, two beds. A chair propped under the door nob enforced privacy. The window was flung open, orange and pink-tinted sunset light streaming in. Drapes fluttered in a breeze that cooled my skin. Everywhere. I frowned. I wore...

My heart beat rapidly. Well, a man's cravat was clothing, wasn't it?

I smelled lavender and heard outraged mumbling at the same time.

My eyes dropped to the man tied hand-and-foot to the small bed. A piece of my clothing was stuffed in his mouth. He thrashed his head side to side, but stopped and stared up at me having caught my attention. He'd put me in my place this afternoon, so I'd done this? Certain parts of a man's anatomy implied that he wasn't all that frightened.

Average, I thought. "Perfect" my mind added. I squatted rapidly when I realized what he could view, did view.

I'd done this.

Maybe I'd said it aloud. He nodded, mumbled. I pulled the silk out of his mouth so he could demand, "Untie me! Now!"

I almost jumped at his command. Then, "Why?" bubbled up. Behind the mask, I'd been hidden. Remembered courage made me rub the back of my palm on his cheek.

Bristly. I shivered. "Really?" I asked.

"No."

Of course, /no./ Active in student government. President of an athletic club. Ranked high in his class, he tutored others. He was responsible. Driven. Attractive in that, also, but always taking the reins. Had to be tiresome. Being led sometimes wasn't bad, was it?

"You... suggested this?" I asked, leaning over his face, feeling his warm breath.

Expression suddenly perplexed, he admitted, "Yeah."

His head reached up as I kissed him and it was all the consent I needed.

Later, he held me. I'd untied him for practical reasons. Spooned, I felt warm, syrupy, still smelling our perspiration. In the light of the dusk, autumn crisp air cooling my skin, I looked at Avarice laying there, colored blue and highlighted in orange by the sky. The kanji glowed blue. I thanked my mother mentally.

I'd wear the mask again. Yes. Definitely. I could think of plenty of things that required courage and would provide me solace, as likely Mother had, too.

Maybe greedy was alright?

[2 1/2 hrs writing time. Author retains copyright.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #romance ? #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #Writever 
#RSstory #microfiction #shorts #ShortStory #shortstories #flashfiction #tootfic  #smallstory 

 I stood there, having stopped him and his friends in the hall. I stuttered half a minute until he rolled his eyes. I blushed. Barely appropriate for getting what I needed in middle school; embarrassing at university. I'd turned to stone in his cockatrice gaze as he spoke. "You're tall, plain, gawky, lacking any curves, almost flat. Your magic lacks power. Smart, I'll grant you that much, but timidity is /never/ attractive, nor is it sexy."

I stuttered, arms crossed, hands clasped at waist level, protecting my—

I was a graduate student Phd candidate in Calculative Thaumaturgy. I taught classes, one that he attended. He was a year from his baccalaureate. Yet, /physically,/ he was my /everything./ A whiff of his lavender cologne would turn me in a hall, looking into classrooms. Very intelligent, too, despite his arrogance. I could /learn/ things from him, in addition to what my betraying body wanted to learn.

His friends laughed with him as they turned, walking away, leaving me—

Mortified.

I still wanted him. Hormones and pheromones? Doubtless. I'd made a scene. I heard hushed voices, found impetus, and rushed away.

I sat at my desk in the graduate dorm, wiping hot tears that had come unexpectedly. I wasn't sure I liked myself, but my late mother's words echoed in my head and I pulled out the contents of the bottom drawer.

A white noh mask. Black sumi-e brush strokes were incised through the surface, implying a face and a kanji at the same time, but spelled nothing. Splashes of red and yellow paint hinted it represented a lion.

"If you need courage or solace, wear it," Mother had said on her death bed, wounded in battle. She'd lived a full life, nonetheless. An anonymous war orphan as a toddler, she'd gone on to rule a prefecture.

On the inner surface was inscribed 貪欲. /Avarice./The kanji glowed faintly electric blue, only when you read them.

Two hours later, I put it on. It fit perfectly, as if carved for my face. Assembled of worked bone, the interior nonetheless felt soft and silky against my forehead, temple, and chin. I smelled chrysanthemums. I breathed in freely and felt immediately better. I felt...

Powerful...

Hidden...

Anonymous...

The mask thumped on the blue carpeted floor. I found myself in a different dorm. Undergraduate. Institutional white walls. Two desks, two beds. A chair propped under the door nob enforced privacy. The window was flung open, orange and pink-tinted sunset light streaming in. Drapes fluttered in a breeze that cooled my skin. Everywhere. I frowned. I wore...

My heart beat rapidly. Well, a man's cravat was clothing, wasn't it?

I smelled lavender and heard outraged mumbling at the same time.

My eyes dropped to the man tied hand-and-foot to the small bed. A piece of my clothing was stuffed in his mouth. He thrashed his head side to side, but stopped and stared up at me having caught my attention. He'd put me in my place this afternoon, so I'd done this? Certain parts of a man's anatomy implied that he wasn't all that frightened.

Average, I thought. "Perfect" my mind added. I squatted rapidly when I realized what he could view, did view.

I'd done this.

Maybe I'd said it aloud. He nodded, mumbled. I pulled the silk out of his mouth so he could demand, "Untie me! Now!"

I almost jumped at his command. Then, "Why?" bubbled up. Behind the mask, I'd been hidden. Remembered courage made me rub the back of my palm on his cheek.

Bristly. I shivered. "Really?" I asked.

"No."

Of course, /no./ Active in student government. President of an athletic club. Ranked high in his class, he tutored others. He was responsible. Driven. Attractive in that, also, but always taking the reins. Had to be tiresome. Being led sometimes wasn't bad, was it?

"You... suggested this?" I asked, leaning over his face, feeling his warm breath.

Expression suddenly perplexed, he admitted, "Yeah."

His head reached up as I kissed him and it was all the consent I needed.

Later, he held me. I'd untied him for practical reasons. Spooned, I felt warm, syrupy, still smelling our perspiration. In the light of the dusk, autumn crisp air cooling my skin, I looked at Avarice laying there, colored blue and highlighted in orange by the sky. The kanji glowed blue. I thanked my mother mentally.

I'd wear the mask again. Yes. Definitely. I could think of plenty of things that required courage and would provide me solace, as likely Mother had, too.

Maybe greedy was alright?

[2 1/2 hrs writing time. Author retains copyright.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #romance ? #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #Writever 
#RSstory #microfiction #shorts #ShortStory #shortstories #flashfiction #tootfic  #smallstory 

 

#WordWeavers 10.5 — How often do you discuss your writing with your real-life friends and family?

Family: Other than reporting I'm doing it regularly, and happy, and planning to retire to pursue it more deeply, never.

Friends: I've a friend who's an avid fantasy reader and I'm having him read my work for flow and plot issues, which he found, darn it. Total time (other than him reading it): minutes.

Co-workers: They know I'm an author. Many have read my work. They all know I also write fan-fiction. Time spent discussing this. Zero.

Mastodon: Gosh, y'all! Hours and hours. Thanks for following me.

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #RSdiscussion 

 Darned characters! Woke me in the middle of the night, wouldn't let me doze off again. 750 words and two hours later, I have a new R-rated minific for the writever hashtag "masque" prompt that I'll be publishing CW'd this afternoon. Now, can I get some sleep, please!?

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 

 I've just realized I have to go outside to get a lemon off the tree. It's night. I bet the tiny buzzing /vampires/ are rubbing their little legs together in glee. Do I have enough blood to pay to make my cocktail sauce? Okay. Stiff upper lip and all that... 

 

#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 2  Nbr 5 — What are your writing project goals?

Hm. Good opportunity to think about it enumerate.

Short term:



Write a completely unique 300-500 word #microfiction story for each of the days of October's #writever hashtag. I'm doing this because I think that my writing mostly in a well-defined universe with developed characters is making me rusty. I want to prove to myself that story ideas are a dime a dozen and that I can always find something to write. So far 4 of 5 of my stories are out-of-universe. The thread—which is not ever going to be in day order—is here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111173835020993722.


Keep up with the #PennedPossibilities and #WordWeavers prompts. I've learned so much from everyone, and I've discovered so much about my own stories. Thank you, everyone!

Longer term:



Get through the final proofing of the serial currently in serialization. Get the whole thing done and published. Get the darn epilogue written already! Decide if I want to do a sequel.


Work out the hiccups my beta reader pointed out in my Reluctance series.  Finish that story, or finish the amnesiac romance I started as a prompt on Mastodon (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110993252771253246). Either could serve as the start of my return to commercial publication.


Work on my earliest work, for which I've gotten back my copyright. Create an author's preferred edition, modernizing the text. Hire a cover artist. Consider writing side stories or a sequel if the characters demand it.


Work on my unpublished novellas, revise them, and make them ready for publication.


Work on my unpublished novels, converting them to 1st person, readying them for publication.


While doing all of the above, launch an author website where I can post short material and blog. Revise my photography site and start blogging images. Record audio versions of sample chapters and post those.


When I have inventory that's sellable, contact my author friends and network. Podcasts and such would be nice. Volunteer at conventions.

ASAP:

Retire in the next few months so I can accomplish all this.

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon 

 I am not hash-tagging this Writever post because it was previously posted here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111180241113244481. I an reposting below in its entirety so the thread will be complete

(hashtag)Writever 10.1 — Nuit (Night)

À la Tombée de la Nuit ou Lest Night Fall

I asked, "Do I look like the woman you accuse me of being?" I actually wanted to know. I wasn't the Sunny that Raven Caw had named me, and even this encounter didn't spark memories.

The two day angels floated midair, gravity disturbance crackling and sparking around their wings. They wore plate armor that weighed as much as they did. They looked unimpressed, and pushed their spears closer. "Aye, you're a monster, but your face—"

Raven wasn't taking chances. My night angel pushed his sunglasses up on his nose dismissively, then waved a similarly sparking quarter arc of folded gravity between us and them, teeth clenched. I smelled ozone mixed in the corruption on the breeze.

I added, "Were she on the battlefield, she'd be dead." I waved my arms expansively, at how bright daylight had settled into the four cardinal directions and left the zenith deep dusk blue. "The old order is broken, just like the sky. Would they leave our world like this, otherwise? Would they not let night fall after all these days of constant light?"

The day angels looked at different horizons. Surprised, it took me a few moments to notice the four shadows of the fire-blasted trees beside me begin to circle about, lengthening, deepening. As my heart stuttered in my chest, it seemed every nearby tree pointed at my face.

Scattered cirrus became strands of sparkling orange crystal, turning purple before they dimmed as daylight vanished below the horizon. The sky went from hazy blue to midnight blue, before a bluer, dimmer, colder light rose in the cardinal directions.

I shivered. Night had fallen. 

What an unfortunate coincidence, considering the trash I'd just talked about the old order to a pair of its last soldiers. Rebels apparently. Not good.

[Author retains copyright.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #microfiction #shorts #ShortStory #shortstories #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory #RSstory 

 

#Writever 5 — Némésis

My backyard was a mess, with pots of tomato plants here and potato plants there, with a blackberry bush taking over the unwary near the house, not to mention a few hanging orchids, coleus, and perennial geranium. The lawn had long ago turned to hard dirt. The borders around the edges were overrun with nasturtium,. Toward the back, below tall fragrant cedar, was a wildflower garden that had been recently cleared because everything was spent, except for tall wild marigolds that waved in the breeze, and tiny phlox blooming a cloud of white. 

In my mess, I'd planted a few fun things. My sunflowers. Giants as tall as Hagrid, with just as sunny an expression when they bloomed. Sunflower smell special and sweet, and I'd recommend planting just for that.  This year, I'd planted enough that the seeds actually had kernels inside the husks.  

Today, I wanted to harvest.

The first drooping head looked strange. Downtrodden, like someone had pressed it to carry a sack of bean and it had bent over under the load. 

It was bent over.

And half of the head: Missing. Darkness faced me, as if I viewed a skull chopped, no halved, by a raiders sword.  

I rushed forward, but it was too late for the sunflower clan. My entire village had been ravaged. On closer inspection, I saw they'd been eaten, still bearing their progeny, eaten alive. Three, no five, no all of them! Chomped by an indiscriminate monster.

And. Oh horror. I rushed to by small planting of watermelon radishes. The dirt around them had been excavated by tiny paws. Each was gnawed at the plant ankle, the rest of the plant lying over. The red interior made each look like the leg of an animal, dead, having bled out.

I hissed. "Squirrel!" I swore and stomped around. I was glad the yard was fenced it in that moment.

A chittering came from my right, up on the telephone line. I looked. My bushy nemesis twitched its tail, blinking and regarding my behavior. Curious. 

I stooped, grabbing a stone.

I missed.

The fluffy monster, who was in no ways cute, stood on two legs, chittering loudly, swearing and cursing at me, no doubt.

I threw another stone. Another. I'd never been an athlete. What made me think this would work?

I threw again.

Missed.

Then heard the neighbor's window shatter.

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#Writever 1 — Justice

I. Could not. /Believe./ What I was seeing! As I pulled the wheels of my chair furiously to get to my van, risking the cracked and warped pavement of the sidewalk, I started shouting.  "What are you doing!? What are you doing!?"

The woman in a white uniform and a cap pressed a button. A white sheet like the tape on a adding machine ticked and jerked as it rolled out of her handheld ticket machine. Her eyebrow went up as she looked at me. She ripped it off and looked for a windshield wiper to tuck it into. I'd lost mine last winter. As I rolled up, she pealed off the backing and pasted it onto my windshield.

In the middle. Where it would interfere with me driving. At least she didn't start to write me up for an equipment violation.

"My handicapped sticker is up! What the f—"

She shook her head, unintimidated, knowing I couldn't reach her stuck in my chair. She retreated to her shiny enclosed tricycle that stood there idling, white like her uniform, plastic like her smile. "You can't park in a red zone."

"My van's broken down! It's not like I wanted—"

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse," she said. The motorcycle engine sounded derisive as she rumbled off.

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