Blue Ink Alchemy » Fiction

I Wanna Do Laser

Josh — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 15:59:39 +0000

Courtesy Terribleminds, make with the clicky-clicky

I was going to put this off until tomorrow. I was thinking of putting up my entry to Chuck’s contest as late as possible. But I can’t. I’m way too inspired, way too charged, to hold onto this that long. He set the word limit at 1000, so I guess my hope is to deliver twice the story in half the verbiage. That is to say: this is 500 words, and it’s all about doing laser. And rocking your face. Enjoy.

The most amazing thing I’ve ever seen on stage is the Wendigos. These guys that write songs based on odd search engine terms, and not every song they do catches the imagination of an audience. Most of the people in the stadium that night were there for the headlining band, anyway. But as they launched into their last song, ‘I Wanna Do Laser,’ something started happening. It was like night and day. Just a minute before people were wondering what the hell ‘Oatmeal Boat Canvas’ was all about. But the pulsing groove of that final song, the utter unfettered desire to live life, zap through obstacles, fucking DO something, was infectious. It rolled through the crowd like a plague of awesomeness, a sick fetid cloud of the unbelievably cool.

Chuck, the frontman, is rocking the mike. Thirty thousand people are getting into the groove of the song. After the first couple verses, the last two lines are grabbed by the audience who begin shouting it along with Chuck’s singing. In the middle of the song’s bridge, Chuck runs towards the back of the stage, towards the drum kit. His drummer, Larry, looks like he’s facing down a charging rhino. Chuck very nearly kicks Larry in the head as his foot heads for the bass drum pedal. He starts pounding out the beat of the song, which is how the bridge in the studio recording goes into the last verse, but Chuck has a different energy. His eyes are wild. Sweat is flying off his beard. He brings the mike up and shouts.

“My beard come so fat!”

He raises his fists in the air. The response from the audience is immediate, loud and boisterous.

I WANNA DO LASER!

“My beard come so fat!”

I WANNA DO LASER!

“My beard come so fat!”

I WANNA DO LASER!

Over and over again. The rest of the band stops playing. It’s just Chuck, pounding his foot down on that pedal and giving the prompts, communing with thirty thousand brand-new Wendigos fans. Larry and the others walk off stage. Finally, after a good two minutes of this orgy of joie de vivre, Chuck steps off of the pedal, and says it one more time.

“MY BEARD COME SO FAAAAAAAAT!”

I WANNAAAAAAAA DOOOOOOOO LAAAAAAAAAAASER!

The arena explodes. People are screaming. Chuck walks out to the front of the stage, looking around.

“Where’d everybody go?” Chuck looks off-stage. “You buncha pussies! Don’t YOU wanna do laser?”

He turns back to the audience, who are laughing, applauding, crying for an encore.

“What about YOU? YOU STILL OUT THERE??”

The voice of the crowd is like a wave. It washes over the stage and Chuck just stands there basking in it. He turns and looks to the band the Wendigos opened for. He’s grinning like a madman, white teeth shining out of the sweat-soaked tangle of his beard.

Steven Tyler turns to Joe Perry, looking like he just got kicked in the gut.

“Shit. We gotta follow THAT?”

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Flash Fiction: The Hunter

Josh — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 17:55:30 +0000

It’s been a busy weekend, and I have a lot to write about, but it’s going to take some time to recover and process. So while I do that, here’s a bit of flash fiction that came out of this weekend. It’s my first honest attempt at fiction this short. So, as I will say to those willing to join in revising my manuscript when it’s finished (any day now), enjoy it but feel free to tear it to shreds. Tell me what works, what doesn’t work, and how it could be better.

Hunting’s a guy thing. I’m a guy. I know what’s expected of guys, but it was hard for me to buy into parts of that expectation. Living in my own skin always been more important to me than loud, obfuscatory machismo. I never learned to swagger, never bothered acting tough. These two are macho men. Have they ever been told that they’ve broken their father’s heart? I wonder this as I watch them approach the buck they’ve blasted with their shotguns, laughing and high-fiving. They smell of beer, like the stale stink of a dive bar. I’d had a bead on the stag when the buckshot tore it open. It moans, twitching in excruciating pain. The guy in the Confederate flag ballcap racks another round with a guffaw. They don’t see my perch, halfway up this old oak.

The rifle in my hands felt heavy yesterday. It’s an old rifle, composed of wood and iron. It’s a veteran of war, a liberator of nations. Now it’s surprisingly light. Rage bubbles over in my stomach. I remind myself why I’m here. Even as they grab the mangled horns of the buck to drag it away, exchanging lewd banter that they might consider witty, I tell myself I’m here to hunt deer, not people like this, not these ignorant disrespectful men who are secretly very afraid of what they don’t understand, that smash anything that fucks with their machismo.

I’m not here for them. I promised my husband I’d bring venison home.

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Canned Goods: Vampire Novel Contest Thingie

Josh — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 18:27:49 +0000

Okay, in all honesty, I have no idea when the novel contest was or why I felt inclined to enter it. Or if I even did enter it. The ol’ cracker barrel ain’t what it used to be, as Uncle Karl might say. Regardless, I saw this as I was re-opening my files for the weekend’s work, so here’s what amounts for a Canned Goods entry when I’m shoulder-charging my way through the last 30k of the biggest fiction project I’ve tackled since I finished Fortnight years and years ago. I might post the second half of my last Canned Goods bit tomorrow, but I’d like to see if I can’t put something else together since Circle of Hellfire is, well, kind of crap.

Anyway. Enjoy.

(...)
Read the rest of Canned Goods: Vampire Novel Contest Thingie (527 words)

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If I Wrote For Lucas: Episode 3

Josh — Mon, 31 May 2010 18:01:42 +0000

Concluding one of the possible ways the story arc of those Star Wars prequels could have gone if I’d written them. Episode 1 is here, and Episode 2 is here. Remember, I don’t own anything created by Lucas and I’m not looking to profit from any of this, but it is my work and if you want to quote or use part of it, please give me appropriate credit.

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Read the rest of If I Wrote For Lucas: Episode 3 (2,421 words)

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If I Wrote For Lucas: Episode 2

Josh — Sun, 30 May 2010 18:10:29 +0000

Continuing the sort of plots, characters and themes I’d have pursued if it had fallen to me to write the Star Wars prequels. Episode 1 is right here. This one ended up a bit longer than I thought it would. I could probably work C-3P0 and R2-D2 in here somewhere, but I’d rather focus on the characters that really needed help. As before, I don’t own anything created by Lucas and I’m not looking to profit from any of this, but it is my work and if you want to quote or use part of it, please give me appropriate credit.

(...)
Read the rest of If I Wrote For Lucas: Episode 2 (2,359 words)

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If I Wrote For Lucas: Episode 1

Josh — Sat, 29 May 2010 17:04:50 +0000

So I think a good way to spend at least part of this holiday weekend is to put down some of the thoughts I’ve had about what could’ve been done with the Star Wars prequels. Utterly pointless, but then again, so are the prequels as they stand now. It goes without saying that I don’t own anything created by Lucas and I’m not looking to profit from any of this, but it is my work and if you want to quote or use part of it, please give me appropriate credit.

(...)
Read the rest of If I Wrote For Lucas: Episode 1 (2,222 words)

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Canned Goods: Circle of Brimstone

Josh — Wed, 26 May 2010 17:44:40 +0000

Wow. Been a while since I’ve done one of these. I’m up to my eyeballs in code and have some deadlines breathing down my neck, so have the first half of an attempt I made at a gothic supernatural horror short. Enjoy.

[[Visit blog to check out this spoiler]]

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For Doctor Mercury: Like Out Of Clockwork

Josh — Mon, 17 May 2010 15:59:00 +0000

His practiced fingers carefully lay one gear beside the other. This painstaking work has taken years. Designs, prototypes, failures, so many have come before. And now, he’s so close. Experienced eyes peer through multiple lenses on specialized spectacles to ensure every wire, sprocket and connection are exactly where they need to be. Within its bright brass body, the inner workings of this mechanical wonder are surprisingly delicate. He strokes his beard, wonder if he’s forgotten anything. Shaking his head and muttering, he makes the last connection and whispers a small prayer.

Sparks fly from the thing’s belly. There’s a moment of silence, filled with smoke and anticipation. Then, the ruby eyes flicker to life. Slowly, under its own power, the clockwork creature rights itself into an upright position, resting back on its haunches with a soft clicking noise. It raises its snout towards its creator, eyes shimmering with an obvious intelligence and curiosity. Steam hisses from its nostrils and it chirps inquisitively.

The inventor cries out in joy and claps his hands. He picks up the tiny simulacrum and carries it to the window. The creature looks out across the rooftops, then back towards its creator. The old man smiles and gestures for the little thing to try out its wings. It crooks its head towards its back, flapping the multi-flapped brass contraptions experimentally. Then, turning back with a nod, it moves to face the window. It’s not very tall, about eight inches from snout to tail with a wingspan around twelve, and yet when it alighted from that windowsill it glided with a grace that’d be the envy of any natural bird in the sky. The creator, an inventor of some seventy years, had never been happier in his life.

It’s almost a shame to see his elation through the scope of my sniper rifle.

The clockwork dragon sees the reflection from my telescopic lens and flies in my direction. I’ve anticipated this. I’ve studied its creator’s work, retrieved his failed prototypes and some of his notes. The smell of specialized coal burning in the engine furnaces of my doom zeppelin will attract it, as it’s probably better quality than whatever the old man gave it to set off its spark of life. It flies unerringly towards me. I lay prone on the zeppelin’s lower deck, the wind in my hair as I lay the crosshairs carefully on the wrinkled, graying pate of the inventor. Seventy years he’s waited for this moment, to see his creation take flight on its own, and I wait for the joy on his face to reach its apex before I squeeze the trigger.

His frazzled head snaps back and the body collapses within the workshop. The dragon takes no notice, alighting on the windowsill next to me. I offer it a bit of the alchemically prepared anthricite. It cocks its head to one side, then nibbles on the brittle stone. Its metal jaws quickly chew off a few bits, and I can see the flexible tube of its throat move as it swallows. Its ruby eyes blink, and then it grabs my hand with both of its fore paws and devours the coal in earnest. In spite of the life I’ve taken, I smile. This little operation was like out of clockwork.

It’s a new life. A new device. Something potentially deadly, but full of innocent and silent wonder. I set my doom zeppelin’s course for the secret location known only to a few.

The starchild, my Doctor Mercury, is going to love this gift.

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Star Trek: Farraday 1.4a

Josh — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 17:48:18 +0000

Previously…

Catapulted to the edge of known space by an incident in the Mutara Nebula, the USS Farraday is now under the command of the ship’s untested former first officer, Anthony Lennox. With limited supplies and uncertainty among the crew, Lennox has made it his first priority to find a planet that can provide enough supplies to give them a decent start on their journey home.

Author’s Note: I’ve had to cut my time writing this portion short. I apologize for the delay in finishing section “b” but it should be up around this time next week.

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Star Trek: Farraday 1.3

Josh — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 21:29:28 +0000

Previously…

The USS Farraday, en route to Earth for refit or decommission, investigated odd message fragments and micro-singularities in the Mutara nebula. The phenomena, apparently created by protomatter, nearly destroyed the ship, but quick thinking by the crew prevented a total disaster. However, subspace distortions have carried the Farraday to an unknown corner of space, and among the casualties of the incident was the Farraday‘s captain, Emmanuel Parkhurst.

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