Thursday, November 21, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
These go to eleven
I didn't spin a 10 yesterday, despite not writing.
I spun a 6, but, I was pretty exhausted by the time I got a chance to go online, and I'm just not feeling the Heroes story. at. all.
So, I spun twice today, thinking that I'd make it up. The numbers I spun were 1 (doing it now!) and 5 (...we'll see.)
I really did want to write while at work today, but just didn't get a chance to.
And I am not even UTP@. I am seriously serioulsy beyond that. Like, if UTP@ went to 10...well. yeah.
But the vampire ship story has been on my mind today (since I spun it, after all), I'm just not sure if I have hte mentael capacity to actually contribute anything to it right now. So, this "1" may (leaning toward "will") be today's entry, aftter all.
On the bright side, tomorrow is the one day this week when I get to take the van to work, which means I get to sleep in somewhat, and therefore, presumalby. won't be as tired (don't see how I coupld possibly BE any more tired). So, depending on what number comes up tomorrow...
OH, and I've come up with an idea that's a tweaking of the spinner thing that i think will work better for me, which I hope to implement in December. blah blah blah.
ALl right, i am barely keeping my eyes open at htis point, and I've written, so consider my work here finished. Enough. "Good enough for guv'ment work." ...phrases are weird.
oh, i should do a word count total thing at this point, but...that sounds like too much work, so i'm going to simply say that i'm at 28% now, which sounds ...plausible. (although not super impressive, is it? ah well.)
I spun a 6, but, I was pretty exhausted by the time I got a chance to go online, and I'm just not feeling the Heroes story. at. all.
So, I spun twice today, thinking that I'd make it up. The numbers I spun were 1 (doing it now!) and 5 (...we'll see.)
I really did want to write while at work today, but just didn't get a chance to.
And I am not even UTP@. I am seriously serioulsy beyond that. Like, if UTP@ went to 10...well. yeah.
But the vampire ship story has been on my mind today (since I spun it, after all), I'm just not sure if I have hte mentael capacity to actually contribute anything to it right now. So, this "1" may (leaning toward "will") be today's entry, aftter all.
On the bright side, tomorrow is the one day this week when I get to take the van to work, which means I get to sleep in somewhat, and therefore, presumalby. won't be as tired (don't see how I coupld possibly BE any more tired). So, depending on what number comes up tomorrow...
OH, and I've come up with an idea that's a tweaking of the spinner thing that i think will work better for me, which I hope to implement in December. blah blah blah.
ALl right, i am barely keeping my eyes open at htis point, and I've written, so consider my work here finished. Enough. "Good enough for guv'ment work." ...phrases are weird.
oh, i should do a word count total thing at this point, but...that sounds like too much work, so i'm going to simply say that i'm at 28% now, which sounds ...plausible. (although not super impressive, is it? ah well.)
Monday, November 18, 2013
Nora's Ark 03
She came to just a few seconds later. Her heart was pounding.
Nora was mildly religious. She believed in God, and the family attending church on Christmas, but only made it to services a few times a year otherwise. Religion just wasn't such a priority in her life. But to have been chosen by the Creator...well, it seemed unusual, truth be told.
The other thing to consider was that she was not actually hearing God's voice at all, but was losing her mind, or perhaps sick somehow.
She wasn't sure which option scared her more.
Nora was mildly religious. She believed in God, and the family attending church on Christmas, but only made it to services a few times a year otherwise. Religion just wasn't such a priority in her life. But to have been chosen by the Creator...well, it seemed unusual, truth be told.
The other thing to consider was that she was not actually hearing God's voice at all, but was losing her mind, or perhaps sick somehow.
She wasn't sure which option scared her more.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
We Could Be Heroes 03
She remembered flying. As if in a dream. It must have been a dream, because people can't fly.
She opened her eyes and viewed her surroundings - they were unfamiliar. She was in a white hallway that appeared to extend in both directions for a remarkably long time. The lights in the hallway had started off dim when she woke, but as she sat up they grew brighter enough for her to see. This indicated to her that she was being watched by someone who could, at the very least, control the light settings. She looked up, trying to see a camera, but there was none visible.
"Hello?" her voice cracked in the middle, as though she hadn't used it in a long time.
A barely audible thrumming sound behind her caused her to turn, and she saw the wall form a small indentation about half a foot deep. She stooped down to look into the newly created window, and saw a glass of water resting there. She was deeply suspicious of this, of course, but her thirst won out. She grabbed the glass and gulped the water greedily. It was heaven.
She held the empty glass in her hand, unsure what to do with it. She decided to return it to the cubbyhole that it had shown up in. The moment she did, the wall closed back up.
Where was she?
She looked down the hallway, then down the other direction. "Hello?" she called out. "Thanks for the water," she added softly.
Then, figuring she had nothing else to lose, she started walking.
She opened her eyes and viewed her surroundings - they were unfamiliar. She was in a white hallway that appeared to extend in both directions for a remarkably long time. The lights in the hallway had started off dim when she woke, but as she sat up they grew brighter enough for her to see. This indicated to her that she was being watched by someone who could, at the very least, control the light settings. She looked up, trying to see a camera, but there was none visible.
"Hello?" her voice cracked in the middle, as though she hadn't used it in a long time.
A barely audible thrumming sound behind her caused her to turn, and she saw the wall form a small indentation about half a foot deep. She stooped down to look into the newly created window, and saw a glass of water resting there. She was deeply suspicious of this, of course, but her thirst won out. She grabbed the glass and gulped the water greedily. It was heaven.
She held the empty glass in her hand, unsure what to do with it. She decided to return it to the cubbyhole that it had shown up in. The moment she did, the wall closed back up.
Where was she?
She looked down the hallway, then down the other direction. "Hello?" she called out. "Thanks for the water," she added softly.
Then, figuring she had nothing else to lose, she started walking.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Vamp Ship (working title) 01
Anders signed on to the inmate computer, and logged in to his email account.
He knew that his emails were all monitored, which was fine. He was smarter than they were. His code hadn't been cracked by anyone reading the messages.
There were three hundred and seven new emails - it was astonishing (and slightly flattering) how many of the worms still wanted to correspond with the inmates. He supposed a great deal of it was the allure of the unknown. That, coupled with the safety of knowing that he was locked away in his airborne prison, 35,000 feet above them. Of course, that distance was going to be reduced very soon, once Anders put his plan into motion.
Anders clicked on the one email he was most interested in, scanned it's contents, and did the mental calculations to decode it's message. "He will be there."
Anders smiled. Fantastic.
It had been 90 years since he had been caught and put on board the Icarus, but next week he was going to escape. And then there was going to be hell to pay.
He knew that his emails were all monitored, which was fine. He was smarter than they were. His code hadn't been cracked by anyone reading the messages.
There were three hundred and seven new emails - it was astonishing (and slightly flattering) how many of the worms still wanted to correspond with the inmates. He supposed a great deal of it was the allure of the unknown. That, coupled with the safety of knowing that he was locked away in his airborne prison, 35,000 feet above them. Of course, that distance was going to be reduced very soon, once Anders put his plan into motion.
Anders clicked on the one email he was most interested in, scanned it's contents, and did the mental calculations to decode it's message. "He will be there."
Anders smiled. Fantastic.
It had been 90 years since he had been caught and put on board the Icarus, but next week he was going to escape. And then there was going to be hell to pay.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Things I've discovered
- Writing by hand first helps. The two entries I'm proudest of so far were both written on days when I was able to write a rough(er) draft of them by hand in a notebook before actually blogging. Apparently, writing stuff down first, and then sitting down to type improves the quality (marginally).
- Stopping the momentum is not a good thing. Spinning 10s (or 1s, to a lesser degree) seemed like such a good idea back at the beginning of the month, but now, when a ten comes up, I'm sad, because that means less words written, and another day where I'm not working on one of the stories. That being said...
- Working on multiple stories at once is killing my enthusiasm for some of them. Or maybe I'm just finding out that some of the story ideas can't sustain themselves for as long as I thought (We Could Be Heroes, Fast Food of the Gods, and I'm worried about Holy Touch, if it ever comes up.). Others seem like there's plenty to keep mining (Still Life, maybe Nora's Ark...Wolflow and the Vampire Ship story (which still needs a better title) will probably be good ones too... if they ever come up).
- There is no way I'm going to reach 50,000, or even 25,000, words by the end of the month. Which is fine. At least I'm writing again.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Still Life 01
This is the story of Jay Castle, one of the most important people in the universe.
Jay didn't know his importance. For the first 24 years of his life, he was, if anything, extraordinarily ordinary. He lived a common lifestyle of a lower-middle class American citizen during the early part of the 21st century. Jay rarely gave a thought to the future, living moment to moment. Jay made his living as a freelance camera operator, most recently working on a reality television show that highlighted performers on the Las Vegas strip.
Jay knew his job was a great one, with many perks and connections to people who could help him get things not readily available to the public. Which is how Jay scored two tickets to see the New Year's Eve concert of one of Jay's favorite bands - The Freaking Whatevers. The show had been sold out for weeks, but one of the producers of the reality program had managed to get an extra pair, and had given them to Jay as an early Christmas present or maybe it was for his birthday, which was on the 21st. Jay was just ecstatic to receive the tickets, regardless of the why. Jay would come to question the "why" of many things later, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.
After Jay had the tickets, he contacted his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Alicia, who was living in LA. She was thrilled to be able to go see the show. New Year's Eve was on a Wednesday, so the plan was to stay in LA thru Sunday, and return to Vegas Monday morning. Alicia was working as a waitress while interning at DesnoTech, and her place was not big enough for Jay to stay at, so Jay contacted his friend Miguel to arrange living conditions for the extended weekend. Miguel asked if Jay was going to be flying out. "Nah," Jay told him, "I'd rather drive. Gas has dipped back down to under six bucks, so it's probably cheaper. And with all the security hassles with flying, it might be quicker to just walk."
So Jay rented a car (a '34 Dodge Natural, for those wanting to know) from the Hertz dealership on Tuesday, December 30th, 2036, instead of flying, which most likely saved his life. If he had been in one of the 47,803 commercial airlines that were airborne on January 5th, 2037 at 5:41am, Pacific Standard Time, things would have ended very differently for Jay. And everyone else, too, of course.
Jay did have a fantastic time. The concert was most definitely the best Jay had ever been to, there were several parties that Jay went to, and the LA crowd knew how to throw parties. And, naturally, he and Alicia engaged in many sexual activities during the four days he was in town. It was at some point during the first few days of 2037 that Jay seriously considered taking the next step with Alicia. Jay often thought back to those days in the time that was to come, and considered them some of the best days of his life. Of course, compared to what Jay had to deal with starting on 1/5/37, practically anything would have been preferable.
Like many people at that time of day, when 5:41am struck, Jay was sleeping. The rental car had been driving Jay back to Vegas for just over an hour at that point, and so he had chosen to lay his seat back and catch some z's. Sleeping while your car is on auto-pilot was not technically legal, but practically everybody did it, especially on long stretches of freeway, such as the I-15.
While dozing, Jay could sense that the movement of the vehicle was decelerating. Jay sat up and looked out the front window. He didn't see anything that should cause the Natural to slow down. There were taillights of a vehicle ahead of them, but it was easily a mile or two down the road. There were headlights behind him as well, also roughly that far back. The auto-drive lanes generally kept a good safe distance between cars, after all. The speedometer read 40. 39. 38.
It was then that Jay noticed the music he had been resting to - The Freaking Whatevers' "Mayor Dog" - was also slowing down. The phrase, "couldn't hack it as the mayor, couldn't hack it as a dog"was being dragged out. Assuming the car must be having some sort of mechanical failure, Jay sat up entirely and placed his hands on the wheel. He addressed the car's computer. "Gerry? I want to go to manual mode, please."
Gerry responded with what sounded like a drunk, slurring voice, "Maaan-u-aalll mo-o-o-o-de". The car had decelerated to a mere 4 miles per hour at this point.
"c o u l d n't ... h a a a a a c k", Jay switched the music off completely, in order to focus clearly on driving. Manual driving was not something that was done all that often, and it made Jay nervous every time he had to do it. Fortunately, the car had relinquished control over to him. Moving was another matter. Gerry, being a computer, felt it was prudent to alert Jay that being in Manual Mode while remaining in an Auto Drive lane was unsafe. Unfortunately, the speed of Gerry's speech was greatly reduced, which only caused Jay's irritation level to increase. "I'm working on it, Gerry!" Jay had the gas pedal floored, but the vehicle was not moving fast enough to register on the speedometer. It was still moving, though. Jay managed to inch the car onto the shoulder.
Once there, he switched to Park and put the emergency hazards on. They blinked on - and remained lit up.
Jay grabbed his Glasses, and fired up G-chat. "Call Alicia, Miguel, Parents," he commanded. "Oh, and Triple A." he added.
Jay stared at the space in front of his face where four separate windows should have appeared as his phone called each of the people he'd listed. But nothing had happened. In fact, his Glasses were not even done loading up to the 'net yet. That never took more than 3 or 4 seconds. Perhaps 7 or 8 in places where coverage was spotty...
Jay glanced forward and saw that the taillights of the other car hadn't gotten any further away. And the headlights of the car behind him hadn't gotten any closer. So whatever was going on must have something to do with the system controlling the auto-driving cars, Jay surmised. But, why weren't the other cars switching to manual? Or were they also having the same problem he was?
He considered getting out of the car, walking down to the car behind him (it seemed like it might be closer than the one ahead of him), then thought better of it. It was January, in the desert, and the sun wasn't even up yet. And even if the auto-drive lanes were down, didn't mean that EVERY vehicle was inoperative. Walking along a dark freeway in the early hours of the morning was a recipe for disaster.
Just then, his Glasses connected to the internet, and the four windows popped up. The dialing was monstrously slow. What in the world is going on? Jay wondered. The hazard lights suddenly blinked off. They had been "on" for about 45 seconds, Jay figured. Although this whole situation was making him uncertain of how much time really was passing. Miguel's face appeared in the bottom left of his vision, Miguel wearing his own Glasses. The connection was horrible. Jay was only able to see and hear Miguel every few seconds. What he was able to hear was "...Stopped. ...ire. ....cra... et... you... wi... hear..."
Alicia popped up shortly thereafter, with similar results. And then, with a sudden snap, everything the connection cleared up, and the hazard lights began blinking at the rate that they should have, and the car that was behind him zipped past.
The three of them spoke rapidly, and Jay was able to discern that evidently everything electrical in Los Angeles (and possibly other parts of the country, the reports on television and the net were hard to understand at that point) had slowed down, and effectively stopped. This had resulted in numerous automobile crashes (mostly in areas where auto-driving streets had not been constructed yet) and, worse, several plane crashes, as well as one known helicopter crash. Miguel and Alicia were looking things up on the internet, and Jay watched as they slowly realized that it had, in fact, been a worldwide phenomenon.
"Are you both safe?" Jay asked, and he wondered why his parents hadn't yet answered their phone. Although it was still before six, and they might not have heard it. But what about Triple A?
His friends confirmed that they were both all right, though mightily shaken.
And then, at 5:55am, Jay was hit with a powerful feeling of deja vu mixed with vertigo. He closed his eyes for just a second, but when he opened them, he saw that the video on his glasses had frozen again. "Damn it." He smacked the side of the Glasses. "Alicia? Miguel? Can you guys hear me?"
It was as he looked at his girlfriends feed that he noticed behind her the clock with the second hand. It was still ticking. The clock was moving, it was Alicia that had stopped.
Jay didn't know his importance. For the first 24 years of his life, he was, if anything, extraordinarily ordinary. He lived a common lifestyle of a lower-middle class American citizen during the early part of the 21st century. Jay rarely gave a thought to the future, living moment to moment. Jay made his living as a freelance camera operator, most recently working on a reality television show that highlighted performers on the Las Vegas strip.
Jay knew his job was a great one, with many perks and connections to people who could help him get things not readily available to the public. Which is how Jay scored two tickets to see the New Year's Eve concert of one of Jay's favorite bands - The Freaking Whatevers. The show had been sold out for weeks, but one of the producers of the reality program had managed to get an extra pair, and had given them to Jay as an early Christmas present or maybe it was for his birthday, which was on the 21st. Jay was just ecstatic to receive the tickets, regardless of the why. Jay would come to question the "why" of many things later, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.
After Jay had the tickets, he contacted his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Alicia, who was living in LA. She was thrilled to be able to go see the show. New Year's Eve was on a Wednesday, so the plan was to stay in LA thru Sunday, and return to Vegas Monday morning. Alicia was working as a waitress while interning at DesnoTech, and her place was not big enough for Jay to stay at, so Jay contacted his friend Miguel to arrange living conditions for the extended weekend. Miguel asked if Jay was going to be flying out. "Nah," Jay told him, "I'd rather drive. Gas has dipped back down to under six bucks, so it's probably cheaper. And with all the security hassles with flying, it might be quicker to just walk."
So Jay rented a car (a '34 Dodge Natural, for those wanting to know) from the Hertz dealership on Tuesday, December 30th, 2036, instead of flying, which most likely saved his life. If he had been in one of the 47,803 commercial airlines that were airborne on January 5th, 2037 at 5:41am, Pacific Standard Time, things would have ended very differently for Jay. And everyone else, too, of course.
Jay did have a fantastic time. The concert was most definitely the best Jay had ever been to, there were several parties that Jay went to, and the LA crowd knew how to throw parties. And, naturally, he and Alicia engaged in many sexual activities during the four days he was in town. It was at some point during the first few days of 2037 that Jay seriously considered taking the next step with Alicia. Jay often thought back to those days in the time that was to come, and considered them some of the best days of his life. Of course, compared to what Jay had to deal with starting on 1/5/37, practically anything would have been preferable.
Like many people at that time of day, when 5:41am struck, Jay was sleeping. The rental car had been driving Jay back to Vegas for just over an hour at that point, and so he had chosen to lay his seat back and catch some z's. Sleeping while your car is on auto-pilot was not technically legal, but practically everybody did it, especially on long stretches of freeway, such as the I-15.
While dozing, Jay could sense that the movement of the vehicle was decelerating. Jay sat up and looked out the front window. He didn't see anything that should cause the Natural to slow down. There were taillights of a vehicle ahead of them, but it was easily a mile or two down the road. There were headlights behind him as well, also roughly that far back. The auto-drive lanes generally kept a good safe distance between cars, after all. The speedometer read 40. 39. 38.
It was then that Jay noticed the music he had been resting to - The Freaking Whatevers' "Mayor Dog" - was also slowing down. The phrase, "couldn't hack it as the mayor, couldn't hack it as a dog"was being dragged out. Assuming the car must be having some sort of mechanical failure, Jay sat up entirely and placed his hands on the wheel. He addressed the car's computer. "Gerry? I want to go to manual mode, please."
Gerry responded with what sounded like a drunk, slurring voice, "Maaan-u-aalll mo-o-o-o-de". The car had decelerated to a mere 4 miles per hour at this point.
"c o u l d n't ... h a a a a a c k", Jay switched the music off completely, in order to focus clearly on driving. Manual driving was not something that was done all that often, and it made Jay nervous every time he had to do it. Fortunately, the car had relinquished control over to him. Moving was another matter. Gerry, being a computer, felt it was prudent to alert Jay that being in Manual Mode while remaining in an Auto Drive lane was unsafe. Unfortunately, the speed of Gerry's speech was greatly reduced, which only caused Jay's irritation level to increase. "I'm working on it, Gerry!" Jay had the gas pedal floored, but the vehicle was not moving fast enough to register on the speedometer. It was still moving, though. Jay managed to inch the car onto the shoulder.
Once there, he switched to Park and put the emergency hazards on. They blinked on - and remained lit up.
Jay grabbed his Glasses, and fired up G-chat. "Call Alicia, Miguel, Parents," he commanded. "Oh, and Triple A." he added.
Jay stared at the space in front of his face where four separate windows should have appeared as his phone called each of the people he'd listed. But nothing had happened. In fact, his Glasses were not even done loading up to the 'net yet. That never took more than 3 or 4 seconds. Perhaps 7 or 8 in places where coverage was spotty...
Jay glanced forward and saw that the taillights of the other car hadn't gotten any further away. And the headlights of the car behind him hadn't gotten any closer. So whatever was going on must have something to do with the system controlling the auto-driving cars, Jay surmised. But, why weren't the other cars switching to manual? Or were they also having the same problem he was?
He considered getting out of the car, walking down to the car behind him (it seemed like it might be closer than the one ahead of him), then thought better of it. It was January, in the desert, and the sun wasn't even up yet. And even if the auto-drive lanes were down, didn't mean that EVERY vehicle was inoperative. Walking along a dark freeway in the early hours of the morning was a recipe for disaster.
Just then, his Glasses connected to the internet, and the four windows popped up. The dialing was monstrously slow. What in the world is going on? Jay wondered. The hazard lights suddenly blinked off. They had been "on" for about 45 seconds, Jay figured. Although this whole situation was making him uncertain of how much time really was passing. Miguel's face appeared in the bottom left of his vision, Miguel wearing his own Glasses. The connection was horrible. Jay was only able to see and hear Miguel every few seconds. What he was able to hear was "...Stopped. ...ire. ....cra... et... you... wi... hear..."
Alicia popped up shortly thereafter, with similar results. And then, with a sudden snap, everything the connection cleared up, and the hazard lights began blinking at the rate that they should have, and the car that was behind him zipped past.
The three of them spoke rapidly, and Jay was able to discern that evidently everything electrical in Los Angeles (and possibly other parts of the country, the reports on television and the net were hard to understand at that point) had slowed down, and effectively stopped. This had resulted in numerous automobile crashes (mostly in areas where auto-driving streets had not been constructed yet) and, worse, several plane crashes, as well as one known helicopter crash. Miguel and Alicia were looking things up on the internet, and Jay watched as they slowly realized that it had, in fact, been a worldwide phenomenon.
"Are you both safe?" Jay asked, and he wondered why his parents hadn't yet answered their phone. Although it was still before six, and they might not have heard it. But what about Triple A?
His friends confirmed that they were both all right, though mightily shaken.
And then, at 5:55am, Jay was hit with a powerful feeling of deja vu mixed with vertigo. He closed his eyes for just a second, but when he opened them, he saw that the video on his glasses had frozen again. "Damn it." He smacked the side of the Glasses. "Alicia? Miguel? Can you guys hear me?"
It was as he looked at his girlfriends feed that he noticed behind her the clock with the second hand. It was still ticking. The clock was moving, it was Alicia that had stopped.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
We Could Be Heroes 02
super (ha ha) tired, and not really feeling this story right now (or any of them, sadly) so instead of continuing the narrative from previously, I'm just going to kinda mention what I had wanted to have happen.
We'd find out that Rosemarie's abilities aren't permanent. In fact, they only last for about 24 hours, after which, she is just an ordinary woman once more.
An ordinary woman who is not bullet proof.
Her powers would wear off in the midst of her doing something heroic (hadn't decided what yet - stopping a murder? removing weapons from a war? something along those lines), and she would wind up taking a bullet or two. She wouldn't die right away, but would instead be hospitalized for a couple of days before finally succumbing.
After her powers had left, someone else on the planet inherits them. And they only get the powers for one day as well. Suffice to say that not everyone who becomes a Super has a working moral compass.
Fortunately, most people who get Suped up stick to their own lives and dramas. Especially after it becomes common knowledge that the powers are going to be temporary. AND after seeing how screwed up the lives of the ex-supers wind up - the media, the government, scientists, mobs of fans, mobs of NON-fans, people who want fame, people who want to be saved - all play a whirlwind of factors in not letting anyone who had ever exhibited super powers have much of a chance to return to a normal life.
Originally I had wanted to have this story focus on one person every "chapter" - each one a different person who got Suped up for the day, and how it affected them, and hte ones around them.
There would also be a group (probably would be more than one in the real world) who was trying very very hard to determine a pattern to figure out who would be the next Super and/or trying to find a cure - or a way to make the powers permanent.
The one person gets powers every day "curse" would continue on the planet for one year, and then, suddenly, just stop. At first, people wouldn't be sure - not every person who got Suped would alert themselves to the world, after all - but after a few weeks when no new Supers had made themselves known, the world would finally acknowledge that just as mysteriously as the powers had started, they'd stopped. Life would get somewhat back to normal, a few months would pass, and then, every single person who had been a Hero - all 365 ex-Supers, even the ones that had died - would disappear off the planet. If I spin a 6 again, I guess I'll continue the story from that point.
We'd find out that Rosemarie's abilities aren't permanent. In fact, they only last for about 24 hours, after which, she is just an ordinary woman once more.
An ordinary woman who is not bullet proof.
Her powers would wear off in the midst of her doing something heroic (hadn't decided what yet - stopping a murder? removing weapons from a war? something along those lines), and she would wind up taking a bullet or two. She wouldn't die right away, but would instead be hospitalized for a couple of days before finally succumbing.
After her powers had left, someone else on the planet inherits them. And they only get the powers for one day as well. Suffice to say that not everyone who becomes a Super has a working moral compass.
Fortunately, most people who get Suped up stick to their own lives and dramas. Especially after it becomes common knowledge that the powers are going to be temporary. AND after seeing how screwed up the lives of the ex-supers wind up - the media, the government, scientists, mobs of fans, mobs of NON-fans, people who want fame, people who want to be saved - all play a whirlwind of factors in not letting anyone who had ever exhibited super powers have much of a chance to return to a normal life.
Originally I had wanted to have this story focus on one person every "chapter" - each one a different person who got Suped up for the day, and how it affected them, and hte ones around them.
There would also be a group (probably would be more than one in the real world) who was trying very very hard to determine a pattern to figure out who would be the next Super and/or trying to find a cure - or a way to make the powers permanent.
The one person gets powers every day "curse" would continue on the planet for one year, and then, suddenly, just stop. At first, people wouldn't be sure - not every person who got Suped would alert themselves to the world, after all - but after a few weeks when no new Supers had made themselves known, the world would finally acknowledge that just as mysteriously as the powers had started, they'd stopped. Life would get somewhat back to normal, a few months would pass, and then, every single person who had been a Hero - all 365 ex-Supers, even the ones that had died - would disappear off the planet. If I spin a 6 again, I guess I'll continue the story from that point.
Monday, November 11, 2013
hey hey it's a working day
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Fast Food of the Gods 03
Previously - part 1, part 2
We were given a pop quiz on Friday, and I was not enthusiastic about my performance on it, but was looking forward to a 3 x 3 burger from In-N-Out to help take my mind off it. When we arrived, the place was already packed, as usual. I don't think I had ever seen the restaurant with less than 30 people in it, and the drive thru was almost always at least two or three vehicles deep.
As we walked in, there was a brief power outage. Actually, it was when Erica stepped in. The lights in the building flickered for about two seconds, causing everyone inside to look up in awe, as people tend to do when they are out in public and a disruption in electricity happens.
"Guess someone forgot," Andy started to quip. Erica finished the thought with him, "...to pay the power bill this month."
Andy stared at her, momentarily knocked into a rare bout of silence.
"I...didn't realize I was becoming so predictable," he said.
"I knew you were going to say that," I interjected (I was pretty proud of myself for that one - Andy is generally the one who receives accolades for his quick wit - well, and groans for his not so quick wit - but I felt that my bon mot was particularly amusing).
Erica simply smiled and said, "You must have used that one before is all. Why don't you guys go find someplace for us to sit - Richard and Janet and the kids...I mean...that family down at table 17 is about to leave." I looked around the restaurant and saw a mother and father with a toddler and an infant in one of those bucket seats, but no other families, and they didn't appear to be leaving. Erica continued, "Go. Grab the table. I'll order for us."
Becca began to tell her her order, but Erica cut her off. "Don't worry, Becks. I know what you all want."
We were given a pop quiz on Friday, and I was not enthusiastic about my performance on it, but was looking forward to a 3 x 3 burger from In-N-Out to help take my mind off it. When we arrived, the place was already packed, as usual. I don't think I had ever seen the restaurant with less than 30 people in it, and the drive thru was almost always at least two or three vehicles deep.
As we walked in, there was a brief power outage. Actually, it was when Erica stepped in. The lights in the building flickered for about two seconds, causing everyone inside to look up in awe, as people tend to do when they are out in public and a disruption in electricity happens.
"Guess someone forgot," Andy started to quip. Erica finished the thought with him, "...to pay the power bill this month."
Andy stared at her, momentarily knocked into a rare bout of silence.
"I...didn't realize I was becoming so predictable," he said.
"I knew you were going to say that," I interjected (I was pretty proud of myself for that one - Andy is generally the one who receives accolades for his quick wit - well, and groans for his not so quick wit - but I felt that my bon mot was particularly amusing).
Erica simply smiled and said, "You must have used that one before is all. Why don't you guys go find someplace for us to sit - Richard and Janet and the kids...I mean...that family down at table 17 is about to leave." I looked around the restaurant and saw a mother and father with a toddler and an infant in one of those bucket seats, but no other families, and they didn't appear to be leaving. Erica continued, "Go. Grab the table. I'll order for us."
Becca began to tell her her order, but Erica cut her off. "Don't worry, Becks. I know what you all want."
Saturday, November 09, 2013
Nora's Ark 02
Previously
Having had her sleep disrupted by the voice - although as more time went by, the more she was able to convince herself that she had dreamt it - Nora found herself irritable and groggy as the day progressed. It didn't help matters that the tractor wouldn't start, despite her and Thomas's attempts.
"I'll get in touch with a mechanic in town," Thomas sighed. "See if any of them are willing to come out here - and will work on a payment plan for their job."
Nora fumed - why couldn't the damn thing have kept working for another three months? - but simply said, "I'm going to feed the hogs."
While she was feeding them, she heard the voice.
"Nora, you must listen."
She knew without a doubt that she was alone -aside from the pigs, of course - but she still whirled around to see if she could locate who was speaking to her.
"Who are you? Where are you? This isn't funny." she spun around twice, eyes taking in her surroundings, trying in vain to find any other soul who could have been speaking to her. She had raised the slop bucket slightly, in a defensive stance. This mystery speaker was seriously unnerving her.
"Be not afraid, Nora."
Nora noticed that the voice was not coming from any specific direction, but was more...inside her head. This fact did very little to calm any fears she had.
"You keep saying that," Nora replied. "Why don't you show yourself? So that I know I have nothing to be afraid of."
Nora wasn't sure if this was the proper thing to say to whomever was behind this prank, but she figured she had nothing to lose at this point. She was convinced that it was a prank. There had to be someone behind this - maybe it was some hidden camera program, or some of Hank's friends from the high school. The alternative -that she was hearing voices, and thus losing her sanity - was not something she was willing to consider. Yet.
"It is not time," the voice said.
Well, at least it was communicating with her. Maybe she could get some answers from it. "Well, who are you? What do you want from me?"
And then the voice said the four words that caused Nora to faint. "I am the Lord."
Having had her sleep disrupted by the voice - although as more time went by, the more she was able to convince herself that she had dreamt it - Nora found herself irritable and groggy as the day progressed. It didn't help matters that the tractor wouldn't start, despite her and Thomas's attempts.
"I'll get in touch with a mechanic in town," Thomas sighed. "See if any of them are willing to come out here - and will work on a payment plan for their job."
Nora fumed - why couldn't the damn thing have kept working for another three months? - but simply said, "I'm going to feed the hogs."
While she was feeding them, she heard the voice.
"Nora, you must listen."
She knew without a doubt that she was alone -aside from the pigs, of course - but she still whirled around to see if she could locate who was speaking to her.
"Who are you? Where are you? This isn't funny." she spun around twice, eyes taking in her surroundings, trying in vain to find any other soul who could have been speaking to her. She had raised the slop bucket slightly, in a defensive stance. This mystery speaker was seriously unnerving her.
"Be not afraid, Nora."
Nora noticed that the voice was not coming from any specific direction, but was more...inside her head. This fact did very little to calm any fears she had.
"You keep saying that," Nora replied. "Why don't you show yourself? So that I know I have nothing to be afraid of."
Nora wasn't sure if this was the proper thing to say to whomever was behind this prank, but she figured she had nothing to lose at this point. She was convinced that it was a prank. There had to be someone behind this - maybe it was some hidden camera program, or some of Hank's friends from the high school. The alternative -that she was hearing voices, and thus losing her sanity - was not something she was willing to consider. Yet.
"It is not time," the voice said.
Well, at least it was communicating with her. Maybe she could get some answers from it. "Well, who are you? What do you want from me?"
And then the voice said the four words that caused Nora to faint. "I am the Lord."
Friday, November 08, 2013
Saved by Zero 02
Previously
It was about three months ago that Charles and I met.
We were both sitting at the bar, me nursing a beer, him simply waiting. The television was displaying the latest of Zero's exploits - he'd rescued fourteen people from a burning apartment building.
"Thank God that Zero was here," one of the now homeless people was saying to the camera.
Charles scoffed loud enough that he got my attention. "Not a fan?" I asked.
Charles looked at me, and around at the rest of the bar. He glanced at his watch, then said, "Hundreds of firefighters do the same thing every day. Or did. Who knows how many rescue workers he's put out of work. And none of them feel the need to hide their identity behind a mask."
I felt my eyebrows arch up somewhat. Had never heard anyone bad mouth Zero before. At least, not so brazenly. Charles looked to be the type of guy who didn't take back talk from anyone though. He was six foot four, and looked to be pure muscle. He appeared to be in his early 50s, but could easily keep pace with any 20-something. His entire demeanor screamed 'police officer'. "Did he put you out of work?" I asked.
A grimace was the response I got to that one. "Yeah, more or less," he said. "Although I guess I've found other means as a result." He chuckled once at that, although I didn't know what was amusing about it. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Charles."
I took his hand - his handshake was extremely firm - and introduced myself to him.
"Can I buy you a beer?" I asked him, happy to have some company. "Thanks, but no," he replied. "Waiting on my friend to get here, and then I'm heading out for the night. I will sit with you, though, if you'd like."
On the television, footage of Zero running into the building was being played back, again. The news had even edited music to it. "So, what about you? What do you think of the masked wonder?" Charles asked me.
I took a sip of my beer, then said, "Guy definitely puts on a good show, I'll give him that much."
Charles was nodding. I continued.
"But something about him just doesn't sit right with me. Why the secrecy? I mean, nobody has ever seen his face because of that mask he wears all the time. It's like you said, ordinary folks who do good deeds don't need to hide who they are."
We chatted for a few more minutes, bonding over our distrust of the most trusted man in the country, until Charles' friend, Ken, showed up. Charles introduced us to one another. Ken was physically the opposite of Charles - thin, short, and wearing glasses that constantly needed to be pushed back up his nose. The guy was like a textbook sterotype of dweebish. I wondered how the two of them were friends - what could they possibly have in common?
Ken saw the television report and asked Charles where it was that it had taken place. Charles told him, and Ken said, "Okay, I'll have to reevaluate the info, but I'm thinking that this will narrow the possibilities down to a 15 mile radius."
Charles must have seen the confused look on my face, because he decided to share. "My man Ken here thinks he's tracked down where the Zero lives. We're gonna pay him a visit."
It was about three months ago that Charles and I met.
We were both sitting at the bar, me nursing a beer, him simply waiting. The television was displaying the latest of Zero's exploits - he'd rescued fourteen people from a burning apartment building.
"Thank God that Zero was here," one of the now homeless people was saying to the camera.
Charles scoffed loud enough that he got my attention. "Not a fan?" I asked.
Charles looked at me, and around at the rest of the bar. He glanced at his watch, then said, "Hundreds of firefighters do the same thing every day. Or did. Who knows how many rescue workers he's put out of work. And none of them feel the need to hide their identity behind a mask."
I felt my eyebrows arch up somewhat. Had never heard anyone bad mouth Zero before. At least, not so brazenly. Charles looked to be the type of guy who didn't take back talk from anyone though. He was six foot four, and looked to be pure muscle. He appeared to be in his early 50s, but could easily keep pace with any 20-something. His entire demeanor screamed 'police officer'. "Did he put you out of work?" I asked.
A grimace was the response I got to that one. "Yeah, more or less," he said. "Although I guess I've found other means as a result." He chuckled once at that, although I didn't know what was amusing about it. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Charles."
I took his hand - his handshake was extremely firm - and introduced myself to him.
"Can I buy you a beer?" I asked him, happy to have some company. "Thanks, but no," he replied. "Waiting on my friend to get here, and then I'm heading out for the night. I will sit with you, though, if you'd like."
On the television, footage of Zero running into the building was being played back, again. The news had even edited music to it. "So, what about you? What do you think of the masked wonder?" Charles asked me.
I took a sip of my beer, then said, "Guy definitely puts on a good show, I'll give him that much."
Charles was nodding. I continued.
"But something about him just doesn't sit right with me. Why the secrecy? I mean, nobody has ever seen his face because of that mask he wears all the time. It's like you said, ordinary folks who do good deeds don't need to hide who they are."
We chatted for a few more minutes, bonding over our distrust of the most trusted man in the country, until Charles' friend, Ken, showed up. Charles introduced us to one another. Ken was physically the opposite of Charles - thin, short, and wearing glasses that constantly needed to be pushed back up his nose. The guy was like a textbook sterotype of dweebish. I wondered how the two of them were friends - what could they possibly have in common?
Ken saw the television report and asked Charles where it was that it had taken place. Charles told him, and Ken said, "Okay, I'll have to reevaluate the info, but I'm thinking that this will narrow the possibilities down to a 15 mile radius."
Charles must have seen the confused look on my face, because he decided to share. "My man Ken here thinks he's tracked down where the Zero lives. We're gonna pay him a visit."
Thursday, November 07, 2013
Nora's Ark 01
"Nora."
The voice caused her to jump slightly. She had her earbuds in, and the music was all encompassing. It was how she had performed her work on the farm for years, especially driving the tractor. Plug the music in to here head, and let everything else fade out. The work just got done without her having to be present. But this voice had somehow managed to cut through her musical barrier, as well as the noise of the tractor.
"Nora, listen."
She brought the tractor to a stop, letting it idle. She could hear the unhealthy chug of the engine now over Pink Floyd's melodic saxophone. She was curious as to who was addressing her, but she felt a small tinge of fear as well. A sense that whatever they had to say would not be anything good.
She had her hand on the key to the ignition of the tractor, not quite wanting to turn it off. Knowing that if she stopped the engine, it would be a fight to get it going again. The tractor had been on it's last legs for a season and half now - it was unlikely that it would see the end of this harvest, despite the fact that they couldn't afford a replacement for it.
Nora looked around, trying to identify the speaker. She knew it wasn't her husband, Thomas. The voice was too deep, for one thing, and he was still on the roof of the barn, replacing shingles. She didn't think it was her neighbor, Jeremy, either. Truth be told, the voice wasn't one she recognized at all.
"Us and Them" concluded and "Magic Man" by Heart started to play. Nora paused the song and removed her earbuds.
There was nobody around. She was in the middle of her field, with absolutely nobody else around, and yet she had distinctly heard a male voice - an unfamiliar male voice - address her by name.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, Nora croaked, "Hello?", then cleared her throat and asked again, confidently, "Hello? Who's there?"
There was no reply. A gentle breeze blew, and the engine of the tractor shuddered, as if to say, "if we're not gonna move, I'm quitting". Nora leaned out of the tractor in order to get a better view and looked in every direction. "Anyone out here?" she called out over the idle of the tractor. She may have said it loud enough for Thomas to hear - or perhaps he simply noticed she had stopped driving the tractor, because she could see him standing on the barn roof, facing her, one hand shielding his eyes. He gave her a questioning shrug - "Everything okay?". He probably feared that the tractor had finally died. Nora gave a quick wave, looked around one more time, and began driving the tractor again. It stalled - ever so briefly - before picking back up and continuing on it's way. Nora left her earbuds out and completed her chores without music. She didn't hear the voice call her name again. That day.
At lunch, she nearly brought it up to Thomas, but decided to keep it to herself. She had imagined it was all. By dinner, she had completely forgotten about it.
Two days later, the voice woke her up at 2:05am.
"Nora."
Half asleep, and thinking it was Thomas, she muttered a "Mm?" in response.
"Nora, listen."
That same two word phrase got her attention. She opened her eyes, her pulse quickened. She looked over at Thomas, who was sound asleep, snoring lightly.
The bedroom was dark, of course, so it was impossible to tell for certain where the other person was, but it was enough to know that they were in her house. In her bedroom, even.
"Thomas," she whispered urgently. Her husband stopped snoring, mumbled something incoherent, and then started snoring once more. "Thom-" she whispered with more urgency, a little louder.
"Nora, be not afraid," the voice said.
Fat chance.
"Get out of my house!" she yelled. "We have a gun!"
Thomas was startled awake by his wife's screams. "What's the matter?" he asked, as he reached over to the lamp near their bed. Once the light was on, Nora could see that there was nobody in the bedroom but the two of them. She was breathing hard. "There was someone in here!"
Thomas instantly reached into the dresser where he kept his handgun, and drew it. He got out of the bed and headed to the door. "Stay here," he told Nora, and went to check the rest of the house. Nobody was there who shouldn't have been.
Five minutes later, sitting at the dining room table with her slightly shaken husband and three children, Nora declared, "I... must have dreamt it." To her own ears, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself of this statement.
Hank, her oldest, reached out and squeezed her hand. "'sokay, mom. I'm just glad that there wasn't really some guy in our house." The other two, Sean and Jason, followed Hank's lead as the always did, and nodded in agreement. Nora smiled wanly. "Yeah," she said, "me too."
"We have a few hours before we need to wake up," Thomas said, "Why don't we all try and get some more shut-eye?" Everyone agreed that sounded good, and the children and Thomas were all able to fall back asleep within minutes. Nora, however, could not.
Next
The voice caused her to jump slightly. She had her earbuds in, and the music was all encompassing. It was how she had performed her work on the farm for years, especially driving the tractor. Plug the music in to here head, and let everything else fade out. The work just got done without her having to be present. But this voice had somehow managed to cut through her musical barrier, as well as the noise of the tractor.
"Nora, listen."
She brought the tractor to a stop, letting it idle. She could hear the unhealthy chug of the engine now over Pink Floyd's melodic saxophone. She was curious as to who was addressing her, but she felt a small tinge of fear as well. A sense that whatever they had to say would not be anything good.
She had her hand on the key to the ignition of the tractor, not quite wanting to turn it off. Knowing that if she stopped the engine, it would be a fight to get it going again. The tractor had been on it's last legs for a season and half now - it was unlikely that it would see the end of this harvest, despite the fact that they couldn't afford a replacement for it.
Nora looked around, trying to identify the speaker. She knew it wasn't her husband, Thomas. The voice was too deep, for one thing, and he was still on the roof of the barn, replacing shingles. She didn't think it was her neighbor, Jeremy, either. Truth be told, the voice wasn't one she recognized at all.
"Us and Them" concluded and "Magic Man" by Heart started to play. Nora paused the song and removed her earbuds.
There was nobody around. She was in the middle of her field, with absolutely nobody else around, and yet she had distinctly heard a male voice - an unfamiliar male voice - address her by name.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, Nora croaked, "Hello?", then cleared her throat and asked again, confidently, "Hello? Who's there?"
There was no reply. A gentle breeze blew, and the engine of the tractor shuddered, as if to say, "if we're not gonna move, I'm quitting". Nora leaned out of the tractor in order to get a better view and looked in every direction. "Anyone out here?" she called out over the idle of the tractor. She may have said it loud enough for Thomas to hear - or perhaps he simply noticed she had stopped driving the tractor, because she could see him standing on the barn roof, facing her, one hand shielding his eyes. He gave her a questioning shrug - "Everything okay?". He probably feared that the tractor had finally died. Nora gave a quick wave, looked around one more time, and began driving the tractor again. It stalled - ever so briefly - before picking back up and continuing on it's way. Nora left her earbuds out and completed her chores without music. She didn't hear the voice call her name again. That day.
At lunch, she nearly brought it up to Thomas, but decided to keep it to herself. She had imagined it was all. By dinner, she had completely forgotten about it.
Two days later, the voice woke her up at 2:05am.
"Nora."
Half asleep, and thinking it was Thomas, she muttered a "Mm?" in response.
"Nora, listen."
That same two word phrase got her attention. She opened her eyes, her pulse quickened. She looked over at Thomas, who was sound asleep, snoring lightly.
The bedroom was dark, of course, so it was impossible to tell for certain where the other person was, but it was enough to know that they were in her house. In her bedroom, even.
"Thomas," she whispered urgently. Her husband stopped snoring, mumbled something incoherent, and then started snoring once more. "Thom-" she whispered with more urgency, a little louder.
"Nora, be not afraid," the voice said.
Fat chance.
"Get out of my house!" she yelled. "We have a gun!"
Thomas was startled awake by his wife's screams. "What's the matter?" he asked, as he reached over to the lamp near their bed. Once the light was on, Nora could see that there was nobody in the bedroom but the two of them. She was breathing hard. "There was someone in here!"
Thomas instantly reached into the dresser where he kept his handgun, and drew it. He got out of the bed and headed to the door. "Stay here," he told Nora, and went to check the rest of the house. Nobody was there who shouldn't have been.
Five minutes later, sitting at the dining room table with her slightly shaken husband and three children, Nora declared, "I... must have dreamt it." To her own ears, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself of this statement.
Hank, her oldest, reached out and squeezed her hand. "'sokay, mom. I'm just glad that there wasn't really some guy in our house." The other two, Sean and Jason, followed Hank's lead as the always did, and nodded in agreement. Nora smiled wanly. "Yeah," she said, "me too."
"We have a few hours before we need to wake up," Thomas said, "Why don't we all try and get some more shut-eye?" Everyone agreed that sounded good, and the children and Thomas were all able to fall back asleep within minutes. Nora, however, could not.
Next
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
oh, for the sake of momentum
so, yesterday was, obviously, a "10". And today was a "1". Two days in a row where the fictional writing has taken a backseat. Weird.
I spent a good portion of today thinking what I was going to blog about, and didn't really come up with anything suitably interesting. Probably because I'm so out of practice.
I was thinking of changing the #9 story prompt from the Choset story to something different, but I haven't decided what. I suppose I can decide if/when I ever spin a nine, huh? Part of me is against editing the post that I made back then, though, which is silly. That's what edit buttons and changed minds are FOR. [EDIT - yup, went ahead and changed it to "Holy Touch"]
We watched "This Is The End" last night (I don't think I'll do a Haiku Review of it - I'm also out of practice on composing those). It had moments that were very very funny, but overall it was just kinda dumb. Guess there are worse ways to spend two hours.
Hmm. What else?
I was thinking about Doctor Sleep (the latest Stephen King novel) earlier today, and I had something I was going to say about it, but now I've completely forgotten what it was. Ha.
I did reread The Shining a few months before reading Doctor Sleep (since DS is the sequel to The Shining, and I wanted a refresher going in), and I've picked up the Kubrick movie from the library - just need to find time to watch it. Harper wants to view it with me, too. Guess I've been spending a lot of time with the Torrances lately.
Okay, no real good way to wrap this up, since there isn't an overall theme to it - just random stream of consciousness writing, so I guess I'll do what I was going to do every 5 days during the November writing thing and do a word count.
1910 / 25000 words. 8% done!
I spent a good portion of today thinking what I was going to blog about, and didn't really come up with anything suitably interesting. Probably because I'm so out of practice.
I was thinking of changing the #9 story prompt from the Choset story to something different, but I haven't decided what. I suppose I can decide if/when I ever spin a nine, huh? Part of me is against editing the post that I made back then, though, which is silly. That's what edit buttons and changed minds are FOR. [EDIT - yup, went ahead and changed it to "Holy Touch"]
We watched "This Is The End" last night (I don't think I'll do a Haiku Review of it - I'm also out of practice on composing those). It had moments that were very very funny, but overall it was just kinda dumb. Guess there are worse ways to spend two hours.
Hmm. What else?
I was thinking about Doctor Sleep (the latest Stephen King novel) earlier today, and I had something I was going to say about it, but now I've completely forgotten what it was. Ha.
I did reread The Shining a few months before reading Doctor Sleep (since DS is the sequel to The Shining, and I wanted a refresher going in), and I've picked up the Kubrick movie from the library - just need to find time to watch it. Harper wants to view it with me, too. Guess I've been spending a lot of time with the Torrances lately.
Okay, no real good way to wrap this up, since there isn't an overall theme to it - just random stream of consciousness writing, so I guess I'll do what I was going to do every 5 days during the November writing thing and do a word count.
Monday, November 04, 2013
We Could Be Heroes 01
Leann sat at the front of the room, watching as the crowd settled in. Some of the faces were familiar - Jennifer and little Georgie, Reginald in his wheelchair, Yolanda and her girlfriend Mary. Others were new, which saddened her. It seemed there were always new additions joining the group. The amount of pain that the Curse could inflict on the world was, evidently, limitless.
As the last of the stragglers found available seats, she spoke.
"Good evening, everyone. Welcome to FABS - Families Afflicted By Supers. As most of you probably know, I am Leann Riverton. My mother was Rosemarie Riverton - the first known Super." In the past there had been autograph seekers - people who were obsessed with Supers and all those impacted by them-but they had become much rarer over the last 8 months, as humanity as a whole adjusted to what was going to be the new reality of having random superheroes among them. Still, her personal bodyguards were always nearby. Some folks held grudges against the Supers, after all. And since they might not be able to take their anger out on the Supers themselves, striking out against their families was seen in their minds as the next best thing.
Some of those attending these meetings knew all that, of course. When a person became a Super, it was rare for it not to have some sort of impact on those who knew them.
Leann gave the crowd a very quick history lesson - she doubted any of them truly needed it - the entire world knew Rosemarie Riverton's story, after all. The single mother of one living in Ontario had woken one day with the ability to fly. And god-like strength. And super speed. She had several other abilities as well, all of which were straight out of the comic books, and all of which had been tested and confirmed by scientists studying other Supers.
Rosemarie may not have been the first human to have been "Suped", but she was the first who made her abilities known to the public. The videos recorded by shocked onlookers of her flying 40 feet in the air and then showing off by juggling (empty) buses went ultra-viral. The world very very quickly discovered who she was (it was not uncommon for later Supers to don disguises, or to simply try and lay low) and all of Rosemarie's family were suddenly beyond famous.
Realizing too late her error in letting the media find out about her family, Rosemarie hid them. She came home, grabbed Leann, and flew her to a remote island in the Bahamas. (Leann had had very little time or inclination to argue. She had more or less been in shock since waking up to see her mother splayed on CNN.com) Rosemarie also took her younger brother, Richard, and his wife, Marta, to the same remote island. It was there that the family finally had a chance to talk about what was going on. Rosemarie informed them that she was going to hold a worldwide press conference, and would ensure that they would all be safe. Richard was dubious.
It turned out that he had every right to be. Within a week, Rosemarie, Richard and Marta would all be dead.
As the last of the stragglers found available seats, she spoke.
"Good evening, everyone. Welcome to FABS - Families Afflicted By Supers. As most of you probably know, I am Leann Riverton. My mother was Rosemarie Riverton - the first known Super." In the past there had been autograph seekers - people who were obsessed with Supers and all those impacted by them-but they had become much rarer over the last 8 months, as humanity as a whole adjusted to what was going to be the new reality of having random superheroes among them. Still, her personal bodyguards were always nearby. Some folks held grudges against the Supers, after all. And since they might not be able to take their anger out on the Supers themselves, striking out against their families was seen in their minds as the next best thing.
Some of those attending these meetings knew all that, of course. When a person became a Super, it was rare for it not to have some sort of impact on those who knew them.
Leann gave the crowd a very quick history lesson - she doubted any of them truly needed it - the entire world knew Rosemarie Riverton's story, after all. The single mother of one living in Ontario had woken one day with the ability to fly. And god-like strength. And super speed. She had several other abilities as well, all of which were straight out of the comic books, and all of which had been tested and confirmed by scientists studying other Supers.
Rosemarie may not have been the first human to have been "Suped", but she was the first who made her abilities known to the public. The videos recorded by shocked onlookers of her flying 40 feet in the air and then showing off by juggling (empty) buses went ultra-viral. The world very very quickly discovered who she was (it was not uncommon for later Supers to don disguises, or to simply try and lay low) and all of Rosemarie's family were suddenly beyond famous.
Realizing too late her error in letting the media find out about her family, Rosemarie hid them. She came home, grabbed Leann, and flew her to a remote island in the Bahamas. (Leann had had very little time or inclination to argue. She had more or less been in shock since waking up to see her mother splayed on CNN.com) Rosemarie also took her younger brother, Richard, and his wife, Marta, to the same remote island. It was there that the family finally had a chance to talk about what was going on. Rosemarie informed them that she was going to hold a worldwide press conference, and would ensure that they would all be safe. Richard was dubious.
It turned out that he had every right to be. Within a week, Rosemarie, Richard and Marta would all be dead.
Sunday, November 03, 2013
Fast Food of the Gods 02
Previously
Of course I was unnerved. Friends don't speak to one another in the bathroom, let alone complete strangers. And how did this guy know my name? And what was he talking about anyway? Afraid of who? I turned my attention back to the business at hand, and said aloud, "Look, mister, I don't know who you think..." I had finished up and was turning back to better address the strange guy, but I was alone.
I washed my hands quickly, and walked out of the restroom back into the lobby. The gang was at our table, but my bathroom visitor was nowhere to be seen. I walked past my friends over to where the man had been seated when we first arrived. His newspaper was still there. I absentmindedly picked it up, and went back to where Erica, Rebecca and Andy were sitting. The three of them were watching me with mild curiosity.
"Did any of you see that old dude?" I asked.
"He walked past me when we sat down," Andy informed me. "Headed into the restroom right after you did. Isn't he still in there? I didn't see him come out."
"Yeah. He..." For some reason, the idea of discussing the "conversation" I had had with the stranger with my friends gave me pause. The whole exchange had weirded me out, and while I knew sharing weirdness made it more comfortable, something held me back. "...Well, he must have left already." I finished lamely.
Rebecca's order was called and mine right after. I got up and told her I'd get both of them. "Such a gentleman," Andy said.
I walked to the counter, pausing momentarily to throw out the newspaper the old man had left behind. As it was leaving my hand and entering the trashcan, I could have sworn that I noticed the date on the paper was not today, nor even the day before, or even a week ago, which all would have been normal. The paper the strange old man had been looking at was dated from April 14th, 1995. Who reads a newspaper that is almost twenty years old? And even more mysterious - that day was Erica's birthday.
Of course I was unnerved. Friends don't speak to one another in the bathroom, let alone complete strangers. And how did this guy know my name? And what was he talking about anyway? Afraid of who? I turned my attention back to the business at hand, and said aloud, "Look, mister, I don't know who you think..." I had finished up and was turning back to better address the strange guy, but I was alone.
I washed my hands quickly, and walked out of the restroom back into the lobby. The gang was at our table, but my bathroom visitor was nowhere to be seen. I walked past my friends over to where the man had been seated when we first arrived. His newspaper was still there. I absentmindedly picked it up, and went back to where Erica, Rebecca and Andy were sitting. The three of them were watching me with mild curiosity.
"Did any of you see that old dude?" I asked.
"He walked past me when we sat down," Andy informed me. "Headed into the restroom right after you did. Isn't he still in there? I didn't see him come out."
"Yeah. He..." For some reason, the idea of discussing the "conversation" I had had with the stranger with my friends gave me pause. The whole exchange had weirded me out, and while I knew sharing weirdness made it more comfortable, something held me back. "...Well, he must have left already." I finished lamely.
Rebecca's order was called and mine right after. I got up and told her I'd get both of them. "Such a gentleman," Andy said.
I walked to the counter, pausing momentarily to throw out the newspaper the old man had left behind. As it was leaving my hand and entering the trashcan, I could have sworn that I noticed the date on the paper was not today, nor even the day before, or even a week ago, which all would have been normal. The paper the strange old man had been looking at was dated from April 14th, 1995. Who reads a newspaper that is almost twenty years old? And even more mysterious - that day was Erica's birthday.
Saturday, November 02, 2013
Saved by Zero 01
You probably think you know about Zero. Even if you don't live here in Greater Heights City - the place he typically seems to show up the most - you've undoubtedly heard about his exploits. Perhaps you've even seen him a time or two. He does get around.
If you're like most people, you've bought the hype, and believe that Zero is a hero. Our savior. A benevolent super-god who stands for justice, goodness and wholesome family values.
Not everyone thinks this, though.
Some of us know the truth.
And a few of us are planning on doing something about it.
I'm going to dig up Zero's secrets - find out who he is, where he came from, what he wants - and I'm going to expose him for the fraud that he is.
Charles - a friend of mine who feels the same way about Zero as I do - tells me that people won't buy it. That even if the truth comes out, that people are too used to seeing him as a hero to change their opinions. If that's the case --well, then if it comes to it, I'll just have to go one step further than exposing Zero.
I'll actually have to kill him.
If you're like most people, you've bought the hype, and believe that Zero is a hero. Our savior. A benevolent super-god who stands for justice, goodness and wholesome family values.
Not everyone thinks this, though.
Some of us know the truth.
And a few of us are planning on doing something about it.
I'm going to dig up Zero's secrets - find out who he is, where he came from, what he wants - and I'm going to expose him for the fraud that he is.
Charles - a friend of mine who feels the same way about Zero as I do - tells me that people won't buy it. That even if the truth comes out, that people are too used to seeing him as a hero to change their opinions. If that's the case --well, then if it comes to it, I'll just have to go one step further than exposing Zero.
I'll actually have to kill him.
Friday, November 01, 2013
Fast Food of the Gods 01
It was ten minutes until 3rd period was over, which meant that the class was essentially finished. The final fifteen were pretty unstructured, and just devolved into the whole group chatting. The topic du jour, of course, was where we were going to eat lunch.
Erica suggested In-N-Out, which predictably resulted in Andy making a less than clever innuendo.
Rebecca was the one driving us, though, so we deferred to her. She said she wasn't in the mood for burgers, so the Bell was the default winner. The only places close enough for us to get to, order, eat, and get back to school in time were all burger joints - In-N-Out, Wendy's and a McDonald's, with a Burger King that was iffy since it was three miles further down the road - or the Taco Bell, which was where we wound up a good percentage of the time. It was close, and it was cheap, so the downside was that it was popular, and during lunch got extremely crowded.
That wouldn't be as big an issue today, though, since Mr. Higgin suddenly announced, "If you can keep the noise level down as not to alert the rest of the school, you may be dismissed now." Instantly 30 teens began packing up their belongings to head off to someplace other than US History. "Don't forget to read chapter seven before Friday!"
Erica and I sat in the backseat of Becca's car, since Andy called shotgun. Our knees touched, and I wondered if Erica was feeling the same electric jolt in her belly that I was. I doubted it.
We got to the restaurant before the huge rush (thanks, Mr. Higgin!) although a handful of other kids from our class were close behind. I held the door for all of our group, with Andy giving me a "Thank ya, guvnah!" with an exaggerated bow.
I noticed the old guy in the corner of the store. He looked up from his newspaper as we walked in, and it felt as though a swarm of bugs had just crawled over me. I noticeably shivered, and the old man returned his gaze to the day's news.
We ordered, and sat down at one of the free tables. Before our food was ready, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I urinated, I could sense that there was someone next to me. "Are you afraid of her yet?"
I turned to face the old man. "What?" ("the hell are you doing talking to me, you creepy old man" didn't escape my mouth, but remained stuck in my mind)
He didn't repeat himself, just stared at me for a half second. "Mm," he said, "Well. You will be. When it happens, Jack, come find me."
Next
Erica suggested In-N-Out, which predictably resulted in Andy making a less than clever innuendo.
Rebecca was the one driving us, though, so we deferred to her. She said she wasn't in the mood for burgers, so the Bell was the default winner. The only places close enough for us to get to, order, eat, and get back to school in time were all burger joints - In-N-Out, Wendy's and a McDonald's, with a Burger King that was iffy since it was three miles further down the road - or the Taco Bell, which was where we wound up a good percentage of the time. It was close, and it was cheap, so the downside was that it was popular, and during lunch got extremely crowded.
That wouldn't be as big an issue today, though, since Mr. Higgin suddenly announced, "If you can keep the noise level down as not to alert the rest of the school, you may be dismissed now." Instantly 30 teens began packing up their belongings to head off to someplace other than US History. "Don't forget to read chapter seven before Friday!"
Erica and I sat in the backseat of Becca's car, since Andy called shotgun. Our knees touched, and I wondered if Erica was feeling the same electric jolt in her belly that I was. I doubted it.
We got to the restaurant before the huge rush (thanks, Mr. Higgin!) although a handful of other kids from our class were close behind. I held the door for all of our group, with Andy giving me a "Thank ya, guvnah!" with an exaggerated bow.
I noticed the old guy in the corner of the store. He looked up from his newspaper as we walked in, and it felt as though a swarm of bugs had just crawled over me. I noticeably shivered, and the old man returned his gaze to the day's news.
We ordered, and sat down at one of the free tables. Before our food was ready, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I urinated, I could sense that there was someone next to me. "Are you afraid of her yet?"
I turned to face the old man. "What?" ("the hell are you doing talking to me, you creepy old man" didn't escape my mouth, but remained stuck in my mind)
He didn't repeat himself, just stared at me for a half second. "Mm," he said, "Well. You will be. When it happens, Jack, come find me."
Next
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