Showing posts with label space. Show all posts
Showing posts with label space. Show all posts
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Yet another two tales. Science Fiction this time
This week I have two short tales again, but as I was deciding on what I wanted to do this week I finally felt like I wanted to do Science Fiction. So here are two SF stories. In the first one I had to use a certain four to six words. It's months old and I forget which words and exactly how many. The second story is based on a pic. The he setting comes from the picture. A young woman working on the shoulder of a cyborg, in a room we assume to be her workshop. I added a couple of details, such as her hair, but basically it is it. The artwork was very well done and I am afraid I don't have the artist's name or a link to where it can be found this time.
The first one is wha I call ordinary SF and the second could be cyberpunk or something close to it.
Together they are 1,987 words long.
Enjoy:
An Emergency Sell
Makueue sat at his controls, he frowned at the images above the slanted, grey panel. His eyes closed for a moment.
Nothing left to do.
His small cockpit seemed to close in on him. He could reach from one side to the other. It fit his small freighter and provided a bit more storage. Now though that extra room might cost him more. He wanted to bang his hand on the control panel but he had done that before-the panel was very hard. All it did was hurt and cause the images to jumble for a second.
A movement at the side made him glanced at the viewer at the side of his controls. An image of William Shakespeare showed. The real likeness of him. Or so who they now thought he was. He had turned down the sound and paused it when the call came through. Now there silence filled his ears, which fit. He had bought new versions of the plays, set in contemporary settings, to watch on this trip. He loved the Bard’s plays. Real life reactions mixed in with proetic lines. Shakespeare knew how to write.
Damn, that beep, which had signaled the note from the Commence Ministry of the Walton Kingdom, had distracted him from the beginning of “Taming of the Shrew”. Now he didn’t fell like watching it. Bile came up at the news.
The recorded memo had been short. The cost of the Temp commence license had gone up. That meant he didn’t have enough to buy one. Without it if he tried to sell anything or deliver cargo to anyone, he could face prison time as a smuggler. The Royal Family, of course, could buy things from anyone they wanted to. They wouldn’t want anything he had, even if the cargo belonged to him, which it didn’t.
His ship, the Surreal Camel, rested near the huge hourglass-like station. Sensor dishes, weapons and squarish long comm antenna marred the bottom and top. It was this system’s Royal courts, multi-governmental office complex. It also housed the HQ for their Smuggler Officers which also served as search and rescue. The home station, where most of the citizens lived, was another two hour trip at medium sublight speeds.
In frustration he looked over his shoulder, pictured his ship. Its streamline oval hull with two small, fat cigar shaped outriggers. The ship’s pulse drives and gravity twisters rested in those. The Camel had two smaller drives in the main hull, away from the main drives. They could be used as thrusters, or emergency propulsion, if something happened to the larger ones. The middle of the ship could be expanded upward to make more cargo space. Right now the hump was out all the way out for he had a full cargo.
Which I can’t sell now.
He looked to the side, to the ceiling and deck under his shin high blue ship boots. At the moment he wore something inspired by old Earth water pirate, even though with odd colors. His shirt had a basic brown with earth tone red panels and green short wide stripes. All white pants with wide legs, completed his outfit.
Nothing here to inspire me.
If he could deliver his cargo he would get paid and be able to pay for the Temp Comm license, but they didn’t work that way here. They wouldn’t do that even for a late fee. He wouldn’t get much out of this trip but at least his costumer would be happy and his rep would be in tact. Now he could lose the cargo fee and his rep if he had to leave without delivering the cargo. And the client might sue him for the price he would have gotten. All because these asteroid heads wanted more money.
He couldn’t sit here much longer either, or they would charge him for extravehicular docking fees. Makueue glanced at the side screen again. He shook his head. He had only a total of 27 hours and thirty-four and a half minutes to stay here and over half of that was gone. A strange amount of time-maybe it was a local day. No time to watch those flare blasted plays, not even just the Tragedies, to help him relax. Or to fix his mood before he had to pilot the Camel back home in defeat.
He stood. No room to pace in his control cabin and the rest of the small ship was too full to do a descent pace. He wanted to jump up and down; bang something. Another look at his controls. He blinked, titled his head as he stared at a tiny cube, smaller than dice, that sat in the player. What had he read about the King?
Maybe, I do have something to inspire me.
He sat down, dialed the call sign for a certain official. Two days later he piloted the Camel back home. It had taken most of the rest of the 27 hours and odd minutes to get in touch with a member of the Royal family. A buyer, who came on board and examined the video cube, bought it. That gave him more time. The cube was one of a type. It could not be copied which meant it would be rare here. The buyer paid him and took the cube. Makueue bought the license, delivered his cargo to the customer;s buyer, got paid all with his rep intact and ended up with 25% more money than expected.
Not bad for a bad day.
end
Second Tale:
SideBorg and Kilner
The smell of soldering filled the air. Sideborg-a name to say that he was on his own side-watched her. She was the best there was as young as she looked. He always wondered if she really was the age she appeared to be. Her experience at this and her knowledge made him think not, but she was a genius after all so maybe. A few of the sparks from the soldering bounced to his face, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need eye protection with his eyes, for his arms were not the only manmade devices he had.
Sideborg looked around, Kilner’s place looked like it was filled with junk, but there was more here than most thought. That was one reason she kept the place dark, so no one could see the real stuff, mixed in with the junk. She had proven that she knew where it was and where every piece lay. Her goggles looked well used, with burn spots, nicks and faded colors. They were made from a mixture of super tough ceramics and metal, designed to take very high temperatures and were very hard to damage, yet she, or someone else who had them first, had done both.
Kilner looked on the lower level of pretty and in shape-she would have to be with some of the lifting she had to do and that she needed to run very fast at times down here. Her mid length over red-for today-hair was tired back with a heat resistance cloth, but some strands still had scorch marks and the ends sat uneven. Today her work stunk more than usual, for the metal they had to use and because it was a very strong alloy, therefore took a very high temperature to fuse together. It needed to be for the use he put it through almost every day. She had just repaired the damage and now was readjusting and recalibrating the computer in his shoulder. The last job he had done had damaged it, but it had been overdue for an overhaul anyway, which, of course, had made the damage worse.
The clicking of the recalibration continued as did the hiss of the torch she used even though she had sit it aside for now. The best models didn’t produce any noise, but here they didn’t have the top line stuff. It all worked though.
He breathed in some of the heat and soldering gas one of his few remaining human functions, when he thought of the last job. His tastebuds still worked and he wanted to spit out the taste all that produced but he held it in since he was in her shop.
Sideborg sighed, last night had been a furball. The guards around that diamond had been some of the best, but he had snuck past them anyway. That was one reason he was popular with certain people. He didn’t just use his strength and augmentations. He could stay in shadows and use distractions as well as the best of them. Sometimes no one knew he had taken anything.
This time was different and so far, as he had heard anyway, no one knew his real job had been to steal the chip with Barney’s safe houses, secret accounts and hiding places for illegally gotten goods. That last was what his costumer had wanted. One of Barney’s men had stolen a very old item that could lead to something valuable, maybe a weapon or a carrying case with a pocket universe in it, Sideborg suspected. He now knew the three places it could be but decided to leave it for the customer, who had been very happy to get the knowledge. He should be on his way to the second place already-if he hadn’t found what he wanted at the first one.
The rest of what Sideborg found could be worth a lot of extra money, before Barney realized the knowledge had been stolen and redid everything. But that might not happen for a while. In the fight with the hidden two guards-both augmented-Sideborg had destroyed the side of the room where the chip had been stored. It hadn’t been planned, but the fight had been messy. The whole room would need cleaning and restoring, all types of devices and storage drawers and cabinets had been destroyed. He managed to finally get out with what he wanted but it had been closer than usual. He had feared discovery or even destruction twice. But he had used his cunning and with a bit of luck that electrocuted that one hulk, he had made it. Other parts of him had been damaged and his face, and other real skin spots, had been badly bruised. But he had left no blood or skin behind to be shifted.
Kilmer stepped back and smiled at him. For reasons unknown to him he was one of her favorites. That he paid on time probably helped, as well as the fact that he didn’t call her names or felt the need to show off. He didn’t compliment her much but he did pay extra when he had it. That could be why she fixed him on credit twice, she knew he was good for it eventually. She had other favorites but few. Plus she liked doing a job no one else could do, or do as fast or as well as she could. When she smiled like that her work was exceptional.
When she went to get his arm, he smiled, for he would be back to work tomorrow with no one the wiser to the damage done to him. And with no one being able to take advantage of his “injury”. Or suspect that he had been involved with the break-in. He would take the next few days off, to rest and to see about what else he had, he had made a copy of the chip. Sideborg knew he would have to be very careful who he let in on his knowledge and how he partial out that data. He knew the people who would be careful with its use and would know how to use the info without letting on they had gotten it from Barney himself. That meant money and favors owed.
He smiled bigger.
end
The first one is wha I call ordinary SF and the second could be cyberpunk or something close to it.
Together they are 1,987 words long.
Enjoy:
An Emergency Sell
Makueue sat at his controls, he frowned at the images above the slanted, grey panel. His eyes closed for a moment.
Nothing left to do.
His small cockpit seemed to close in on him. He could reach from one side to the other. It fit his small freighter and provided a bit more storage. Now though that extra room might cost him more. He wanted to bang his hand on the control panel but he had done that before-the panel was very hard. All it did was hurt and cause the images to jumble for a second.
A movement at the side made him glanced at the viewer at the side of his controls. An image of William Shakespeare showed. The real likeness of him. Or so who they now thought he was. He had turned down the sound and paused it when the call came through. Now there silence filled his ears, which fit. He had bought new versions of the plays, set in contemporary settings, to watch on this trip. He loved the Bard’s plays. Real life reactions mixed in with proetic lines. Shakespeare knew how to write.
Damn, that beep, which had signaled the note from the Commence Ministry of the Walton Kingdom, had distracted him from the beginning of “Taming of the Shrew”. Now he didn’t fell like watching it. Bile came up at the news.
The recorded memo had been short. The cost of the Temp commence license had gone up. That meant he didn’t have enough to buy one. Without it if he tried to sell anything or deliver cargo to anyone, he could face prison time as a smuggler. The Royal Family, of course, could buy things from anyone they wanted to. They wouldn’t want anything he had, even if the cargo belonged to him, which it didn’t.
His ship, the Surreal Camel, rested near the huge hourglass-like station. Sensor dishes, weapons and squarish long comm antenna marred the bottom and top. It was this system’s Royal courts, multi-governmental office complex. It also housed the HQ for their Smuggler Officers which also served as search and rescue. The home station, where most of the citizens lived, was another two hour trip at medium sublight speeds.
In frustration he looked over his shoulder, pictured his ship. Its streamline oval hull with two small, fat cigar shaped outriggers. The ship’s pulse drives and gravity twisters rested in those. The Camel had two smaller drives in the main hull, away from the main drives. They could be used as thrusters, or emergency propulsion, if something happened to the larger ones. The middle of the ship could be expanded upward to make more cargo space. Right now the hump was out all the way out for he had a full cargo.
Which I can’t sell now.
He looked to the side, to the ceiling and deck under his shin high blue ship boots. At the moment he wore something inspired by old Earth water pirate, even though with odd colors. His shirt had a basic brown with earth tone red panels and green short wide stripes. All white pants with wide legs, completed his outfit.
Nothing here to inspire me.
If he could deliver his cargo he would get paid and be able to pay for the Temp Comm license, but they didn’t work that way here. They wouldn’t do that even for a late fee. He wouldn’t get much out of this trip but at least his costumer would be happy and his rep would be in tact. Now he could lose the cargo fee and his rep if he had to leave without delivering the cargo. And the client might sue him for the price he would have gotten. All because these asteroid heads wanted more money.
He couldn’t sit here much longer either, or they would charge him for extravehicular docking fees. Makueue glanced at the side screen again. He shook his head. He had only a total of 27 hours and thirty-four and a half minutes to stay here and over half of that was gone. A strange amount of time-maybe it was a local day. No time to watch those flare blasted plays, not even just the Tragedies, to help him relax. Or to fix his mood before he had to pilot the Camel back home in defeat.
He stood. No room to pace in his control cabin and the rest of the small ship was too full to do a descent pace. He wanted to jump up and down; bang something. Another look at his controls. He blinked, titled his head as he stared at a tiny cube, smaller than dice, that sat in the player. What had he read about the King?
Maybe, I do have something to inspire me.
He sat down, dialed the call sign for a certain official. Two days later he piloted the Camel back home. It had taken most of the rest of the 27 hours and odd minutes to get in touch with a member of the Royal family. A buyer, who came on board and examined the video cube, bought it. That gave him more time. The cube was one of a type. It could not be copied which meant it would be rare here. The buyer paid him and took the cube. Makueue bought the license, delivered his cargo to the customer;s buyer, got paid all with his rep intact and ended up with 25% more money than expected.
Not bad for a bad day.
end
Second Tale:
SideBorg and Kilner
The smell of soldering filled the air. Sideborg-a name to say that he was on his own side-watched her. She was the best there was as young as she looked. He always wondered if she really was the age she appeared to be. Her experience at this and her knowledge made him think not, but she was a genius after all so maybe. A few of the sparks from the soldering bounced to his face, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need eye protection with his eyes, for his arms were not the only manmade devices he had.
Sideborg looked around, Kilner’s place looked like it was filled with junk, but there was more here than most thought. That was one reason she kept the place dark, so no one could see the real stuff, mixed in with the junk. She had proven that she knew where it was and where every piece lay. Her goggles looked well used, with burn spots, nicks and faded colors. They were made from a mixture of super tough ceramics and metal, designed to take very high temperatures and were very hard to damage, yet she, or someone else who had them first, had done both.
Kilner looked on the lower level of pretty and in shape-she would have to be with some of the lifting she had to do and that she needed to run very fast at times down here. Her mid length over red-for today-hair was tired back with a heat resistance cloth, but some strands still had scorch marks and the ends sat uneven. Today her work stunk more than usual, for the metal they had to use and because it was a very strong alloy, therefore took a very high temperature to fuse together. It needed to be for the use he put it through almost every day. She had just repaired the damage and now was readjusting and recalibrating the computer in his shoulder. The last job he had done had damaged it, but it had been overdue for an overhaul anyway, which, of course, had made the damage worse.
The clicking of the recalibration continued as did the hiss of the torch she used even though she had sit it aside for now. The best models didn’t produce any noise, but here they didn’t have the top line stuff. It all worked though.
He breathed in some of the heat and soldering gas one of his few remaining human functions, when he thought of the last job. His tastebuds still worked and he wanted to spit out the taste all that produced but he held it in since he was in her shop.
Sideborg sighed, last night had been a furball. The guards around that diamond had been some of the best, but he had snuck past them anyway. That was one reason he was popular with certain people. He didn’t just use his strength and augmentations. He could stay in shadows and use distractions as well as the best of them. Sometimes no one knew he had taken anything.
This time was different and so far, as he had heard anyway, no one knew his real job had been to steal the chip with Barney’s safe houses, secret accounts and hiding places for illegally gotten goods. That last was what his costumer had wanted. One of Barney’s men had stolen a very old item that could lead to something valuable, maybe a weapon or a carrying case with a pocket universe in it, Sideborg suspected. He now knew the three places it could be but decided to leave it for the customer, who had been very happy to get the knowledge. He should be on his way to the second place already-if he hadn’t found what he wanted at the first one.
The rest of what Sideborg found could be worth a lot of extra money, before Barney realized the knowledge had been stolen and redid everything. But that might not happen for a while. In the fight with the hidden two guards-both augmented-Sideborg had destroyed the side of the room where the chip had been stored. It hadn’t been planned, but the fight had been messy. The whole room would need cleaning and restoring, all types of devices and storage drawers and cabinets had been destroyed. He managed to finally get out with what he wanted but it had been closer than usual. He had feared discovery or even destruction twice. But he had used his cunning and with a bit of luck that electrocuted that one hulk, he had made it. Other parts of him had been damaged and his face, and other real skin spots, had been badly bruised. But he had left no blood or skin behind to be shifted.
Kilmer stepped back and smiled at him. For reasons unknown to him he was one of her favorites. That he paid on time probably helped, as well as the fact that he didn’t call her names or felt the need to show off. He didn’t compliment her much but he did pay extra when he had it. That could be why she fixed him on credit twice, she knew he was good for it eventually. She had other favorites but few. Plus she liked doing a job no one else could do, or do as fast or as well as she could. When she smiled like that her work was exceptional.
When she went to get his arm, he smiled, for he would be back to work tomorrow with no one the wiser to the damage done to him. And with no one being able to take advantage of his “injury”. Or suspect that he had been involved with the break-in. He would take the next few days off, to rest and to see about what else he had, he had made a copy of the chip. Sideborg knew he would have to be very careful who he let in on his knowledge and how he partial out that data. He knew the people who would be careful with its use and would know how to use the info without letting on they had gotten it from Barney himself. That meant money and favors owed.
He smiled bigger.
end
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Two Free Fantasy stories from me
Two more stories by me. A brand new one and an older revised tale. Both are fantasy but of different types. "Mirror" is classic fantasy and the "Roamer's Burn" is something different.
The first one is 2,000 words exactly. I wrote it and then revised it a bit. It may still probably needs some work but I think it's good. The other is 856 words long and is a different type of fantasy. The shorter story is many years old even though it was revised a couple of months ago and partially again a couple of days ago.
A while ago I said I was doing a story for SaturdayScenes but I still haven't finished it. I am not sure how to end it. I think I am half way done, but as I said not sure how to go on. So it sits.
The first one was inspired by a picture someone posted to Google+
Here is a link to that pic
The page includes the writer's name.
Now for "Mirror" the first story:
The torch showed little. At least its smoke drifted back toward the entrance that led to this section of the catacombs. The special wrappings and plants burned very slow but still let out a light stink. Tenda had studied the very old, large bricks that this catacomb had been made of. They had greyed with age. It’s older even than the ancient building that stood above the doorway that had led down here. The whole place smelled of dust, mold and age-and old blood. A tiny light shone down further but most of this place was darker than a dragon’s gut.
As a warrior Tenda wore her half armor: breastplate, leather arm and leg coverings, but the coldness here still made her glad she had brought the cape and placed the cowl over her head. She secured it in a way that didn’t block her sight or hearing. The ends of her shoulder length black hair still escaped though, but it wasn’t a concern even when the strands caught in her mouth and she tasted the sweat and grim on it. She was used to that.
Her arms were bare except for waist guards-most people were surprised by how muscular her arms looked. They were as many men, a few women and a couple of monsters had found out.
She looked around. Silence lay everywhere except for her slight footfalls. The passageway was narrow, but she thought she could still fight even with her longer sword held in her left hand. And she also had enough room to run if she needed to. But, she thought, nothing should be here to run from. The brick walls had greyed with age, except for where lichen and mold grew.
What did the mold feed on though?
Her pack carried some food and smaller water skins, but it had room for any gems, artifacts or if she found what she searched for. So far she had found only some scrolls in one tiny room, the now rested in a pouch on her side. One looked newer than the others. She had no idea what they said. She had taken them for one never knew when something was important. Her impulses usually turned out right as if she had a gift to know things.
Two more turns and she found herself at a side niche. The light she had noticed came from a reflection of her torch in a mirror. Just like the ones used in a Lady’s bedroom or some of the better Inns. Bones of a strange beast made up its frame. A mirror? Down here? And five candles added to the light. A soot scent drifted around, and a very faint burnt wax smell. One candle had burned down to a stub, that would burn out very soon, two were thick. And one that was out lay on its side. The wick showed that it had burned but not for long. This might be the place marked by that strange symbol on the scroll-map she carried half stuffed into a pocket on her right side. She figured the symbol may mean “stay away” but it could mean X marks the spot too. Her skin crawled and she felt like she could jump at any noise.
It took her two-seconds to see that the mirror was cracked: three v shaped cracks along the center of the left side and a longer one that ran across the glass all the way to the other side. A disk shaped shelf stood in front of it. The candles and four other unlighted ones stood to the left A tapestry hung to the right. It had a circle with what looked like two decorative circles on it. Rips and faded colors showed that it was very old. The mirror and frame looked almost new. Except for that crack. Was the frame holding the mirror together? That made her wonder what creature’s bones they were. They didn’t look human. And was that a real skull at the very top? A small creature if it was. A shape under the bowl looked the same as the shapes on the tapestry. Skulls decorated the bowl. They may have been the same skull that sat on top of the mirror.
Her image stared back at her as she gave the mirror a quick study.
Something about that mirror isn’t right.
Wait, burning candles. That meant someone came here on a regular bases. She watched wax drip down one to join a pool of wax at the bottom. So that meant there was no spell here that kept them burning for years. Tenda half turned to look behind her. Nothing moved, no new shadows, no sounds or new odors.
Someone-something.
But no sound and no movements. There had to be another way down here because the dust on the floor was undisturbed until she walked through it. She studied the darkness behind her with her ears as well as eyes. Her exposed skin, what little of it there was, might warn her too; of heat, or extra cold or air suddenly moving. Tenda sniffed, no extra dust or sweat or perfume smells either. Once a taste on the wind saved her from something bad in the air.
With an aborted shake of her head she turned back to the mirror. Turned her head back to the rear came back slowly. Before she realized she stood three steps back. Her body had recognized the oddness before her mind did. The thing that made her skin crawl lay before her not behind her. What had alerted her was the fact that her image’s head hadn’t moved when hers did. She thought it may not have when she turned back, when she tested it, she found it true. That had promoted her mind to see what she hadn’t noticed before. Her image was perfect; same sword held at the same position in the same hand, the same with the torch. The scrolls showed. Her armor looked the same as did her cape, and her belt looked right.
My eyes do not glow like that.
Neither did her cowl did not cover her face with shadows like her image. Plus her bosom wasn’t that large.
So what lived in her image? Could it take her over? Was it responsible for the blood on the walls that the mold fed on? Could it be her from a different dimension? Some wise and learned men thought there were such dimensions. Not this time she thought. Someone worshipped whatever was in there, that had taken her image.
The liquid in the bowl bubbled, the flames flared. How cliche she thought. But the image came her way even as she took another step backwards. It raised its sword-just like she would. If she fought herself she might win or they could kill each other or it could be even. But that larger bosom could mean larger shoulder and arm muscles.
The candles
With the barest of thoughts, Tenda took three steps closer and using the sword carefully brushed the candles until they rested against the glass. If that was what this object was made from. The heat seemed to fog the base of the image. It burned inside the mirror but not the glass.
Damn that will take too long.
She moved the torch toward the image. A breeze warned her but she reacted too slow. A force reached out from the mirror. It grabbed her around the middle. The image smiled even though she didn’t know how she knew that. The strong grip pulled at her, she stepped back. Her strength wasn’t enough though. The tentacle-or whatever it was-felt slimy on bare skin. It hurt where it touched and pulled, like that rope the Kinssie used to capture her two years ago.
It partially blocked her sword arm, so she couldn’t get a good swing at it. Maybe she could drop and go for her stiletto in the sheath strapped to her side.
The sword fell and bounced with a clear clank-it always sounded musical because of the quality of the metal. The loudness confirmed that it had hit the shelf and stayed there. Her arms snaked into the slit but, part of what wrapped around her covered it. There had to be a way to defeat it before it pulled her inch by inch to the glass.
A light flickered, she glanced up at it. The image of the torch was nearer to her. A look down at the candles. They still burned but not fast enough. She bet the mirror image of the flames didn’t burn hot. How she knew that she couldn’t guess but that meant her first plan…
Nothing else to do so she shoved the torch in her free arm at the glass, but even though the image stopped, she couldn’t get close enough to touch it. Flames caught on the inside but it moved closer again. Faster this time. It acted determined to stop her. She needed to break the glass, but someone had done that already and it hadn’t worked.
Her feet slid on the brick floor. The image lifted its sword higher and readied it to skewer her. Or slice her throat. She had to fight it that meant she needed her sword again. A step forward-a a stink of something awful that burned reached her nose. Sweat dripped onto her forehead, down her underarms before her padding absorbed it.
Tenda managed to reach down and grab the hilt of her sword. The smooth metal in her hand and she pulled it up in a sudden, strong swing. It hit metal, too close to her belly. The image backed up and stepped again toward her. She swung again and swords squealed as one ran against the other.
Someone had broken the mirror before so it could be done. But there was one thing that person hadn’t done.
She gathered her strength and determination: with a yell she lounged forward in a fast, hard sudden movement with all of her strength and swung. Not at the other blade though. A loud click, followed by a crack but not of glass. The mirror rippled, the whole image twisted, one side titled. Then it started to fall. At the same moment she used the blade to flick two candles inside the image then stabbed it again with the torch. The head of the touch went into the mirror, broke off. The being opened its mouth in a silent scream and reared back. The glass continued to fall. Flames started to fill the image it produced. It shattered as it hit the shelf then the floor.
Her body jerked as the pressure halted. Tenda took a long breath. Ashes came it along with air. She turned back to the broken pieces of the mirror. What was left of the glass showed dark. Wait something flickered inside like a flame. She looked at the shattered pieces and the cut bone of the frame. So her idea to cut the frame had worked. It had held the glass together even after it was cracked badly. Only one candle remained lit and what light the burning image produced.
As quick as she could move she got out her flint and managed to start a fire on what was left of her torch. It caught and the light grew. She held it up, spun around. Nothing was around her. With a shake of her head she continued down the passageway. The three scrolls still poked out of her pouch and everything else seemed okay. But her hands shook.
On the way out she found one more room and maybe what she had searched for. There was another door that led from a mostly dust free passage. She hurried out that way and found an old abandoned temple. She went back to her Inn to seek out a bath.
End
Second story "The Roamer's Burn"
The Being roamed, as his type delighted in doing. He enjoyed the long empty spaces and he walked carefree because he knew very little in his environment could harm or even effect him. And he didn’t care where he went, just so that he moved and saw new sights, listen to sounds he hadn’t heard before, and smelled new aromas-even if the last one was rare. Those little points of heat sometimes produced sounds he that either soothed him, or excited his emotions. Most of all he liked to stroll along. He didn’t care where he went. He knew he had lived for a long time and that an object could change by the time he got to it, but that could become something new.
After a long life not much was new to him, but certain objects and events he didn’t mind seeing twice or even three times. The same with sounds. Some smells and a couple of noises though he hadn’t liked and would ovoid if he saw what made them in time.
Of the three, or four, dangers he needed to look out for only one was plentiful. One he could barely see, for most were small and light didn’t escape from it, but he saw with other radiations so he could see matter, heat, and light being pulled into one. He had only seen two that were large enough to grab him, but the smaller ones could do some damage to his body and would slow him too much as he fought to get free of it.
A third one was rare also and very hard to spot. A tiny point of light would just expand for some reason he didn’t know. The rapid expansion could harm him. One had badly injured a fellow being a while back. That one had headed for a red point of light but it expanded suddenly before he reached it. This roamer had heard the expension and the cry of his follow being. He was one of five who came to the injured one’s aid. The last danger he didn’t like to think about, it was so bad. All of his type were terrified of it.
There was of course tiny hazards. They were small round areas of light and extreme heat. They lay scattered almost everywhere and were a nascence. He always had to watch to keep from stepping too close to one.
He passed by a small object as it buzzed past him. It looked cold. He didn’t worry about it even though he had seen it three times. It could not harm him. Sometimes when one passed through him it slowed while it moved inside him. It almost tiggeled.
They are were other beings and creatures and most didn’t notice him, or they were very good at ignoring him.
He had no name, for he didn't need one. Each member of his race knew each other instantly, when they happened to meet each other, or heard them cry out. He didn’t know his true age for his people didn’t care of such matters. He just wanted to walk and see, hear, smell what was there, enjoying the movement of his body.
He looked to one side spotted a new set of colored objects, maybe he would head over there to take a closer look. When he took another step forward the Being grimaced. Aww, what?
Intense pain: a burning sensation in his lower leg. He had experienced with pain to know the different types and what it meant. He moved his hand reached for his upper shin. He proceeded to rub the spot, that had somehow been burned. He thought he smelled burnt skin, but that could be his imagination.
He looked down as he was rubbing the burn, and saw that he had gotten too close to one of the very small cinders, or points of light. Damn, he let himself be distracted.
The tiny lights were leftover from a huge explosion, that had occurred ages ago. It had been powerful enough to kill a couple of his followers, and to send these cinders over most of the terrain. He had been too close to one before, and knew they were extremely hot, even this long after the blast. This one was a bit smaller then many, and he hadn’t noticed it. After he straightened he went on his way determined to be more careful.
Even though he had been near it he hadn’t noticed or even would have cared except as a curiosity, that very tiny particles hung near the cinder. If he had looked closer he would have seen that the third one from this spot of light had a color, for a layer of water covered almost three-fourths of it. When he strode away though, it was almost totally covered with ice. Few of heartbeats later it warmed, long strands of hard ice receded. Large patches of frozen water at both ends of the particle shrunk, water flowed again. The inhabitants of the tiny blue mote came out of caves, and rejoiced that the ice was disappearing.
The end
The first one is 2,000 words exactly. I wrote it and then revised it a bit. It may still probably needs some work but I think it's good. The other is 856 words long and is a different type of fantasy. The shorter story is many years old even though it was revised a couple of months ago and partially again a couple of days ago.
A while ago I said I was doing a story for SaturdayScenes but I still haven't finished it. I am not sure how to end it. I think I am half way done, but as I said not sure how to go on. So it sits.
The first one was inspired by a picture someone posted to Google+
Here is a link to that pic
The page includes the writer's name.
Now for "Mirror" the first story:
The torch showed little. At least its smoke drifted back toward the entrance that led to this section of the catacombs. The special wrappings and plants burned very slow but still let out a light stink. Tenda had studied the very old, large bricks that this catacomb had been made of. They had greyed with age. It’s older even than the ancient building that stood above the doorway that had led down here. The whole place smelled of dust, mold and age-and old blood. A tiny light shone down further but most of this place was darker than a dragon’s gut.
As a warrior Tenda wore her half armor: breastplate, leather arm and leg coverings, but the coldness here still made her glad she had brought the cape and placed the cowl over her head. She secured it in a way that didn’t block her sight or hearing. The ends of her shoulder length black hair still escaped though, but it wasn’t a concern even when the strands caught in her mouth and she tasted the sweat and grim on it. She was used to that.
Her arms were bare except for waist guards-most people were surprised by how muscular her arms looked. They were as many men, a few women and a couple of monsters had found out.
She looked around. Silence lay everywhere except for her slight footfalls. The passageway was narrow, but she thought she could still fight even with her longer sword held in her left hand. And she also had enough room to run if she needed to. But, she thought, nothing should be here to run from. The brick walls had greyed with age, except for where lichen and mold grew.
What did the mold feed on though?
Her pack carried some food and smaller water skins, but it had room for any gems, artifacts or if she found what she searched for. So far she had found only some scrolls in one tiny room, the now rested in a pouch on her side. One looked newer than the others. She had no idea what they said. She had taken them for one never knew when something was important. Her impulses usually turned out right as if she had a gift to know things.
Two more turns and she found herself at a side niche. The light she had noticed came from a reflection of her torch in a mirror. Just like the ones used in a Lady’s bedroom or some of the better Inns. Bones of a strange beast made up its frame. A mirror? Down here? And five candles added to the light. A soot scent drifted around, and a very faint burnt wax smell. One candle had burned down to a stub, that would burn out very soon, two were thick. And one that was out lay on its side. The wick showed that it had burned but not for long. This might be the place marked by that strange symbol on the scroll-map she carried half stuffed into a pocket on her right side. She figured the symbol may mean “stay away” but it could mean X marks the spot too. Her skin crawled and she felt like she could jump at any noise.
It took her two-seconds to see that the mirror was cracked: three v shaped cracks along the center of the left side and a longer one that ran across the glass all the way to the other side. A disk shaped shelf stood in front of it. The candles and four other unlighted ones stood to the left A tapestry hung to the right. It had a circle with what looked like two decorative circles on it. Rips and faded colors showed that it was very old. The mirror and frame looked almost new. Except for that crack. Was the frame holding the mirror together? That made her wonder what creature’s bones they were. They didn’t look human. And was that a real skull at the very top? A small creature if it was. A shape under the bowl looked the same as the shapes on the tapestry. Skulls decorated the bowl. They may have been the same skull that sat on top of the mirror.
Her image stared back at her as she gave the mirror a quick study.
Something about that mirror isn’t right.
Wait, burning candles. That meant someone came here on a regular bases. She watched wax drip down one to join a pool of wax at the bottom. So that meant there was no spell here that kept them burning for years. Tenda half turned to look behind her. Nothing moved, no new shadows, no sounds or new odors.
Someone-something.
But no sound and no movements. There had to be another way down here because the dust on the floor was undisturbed until she walked through it. She studied the darkness behind her with her ears as well as eyes. Her exposed skin, what little of it there was, might warn her too; of heat, or extra cold or air suddenly moving. Tenda sniffed, no extra dust or sweat or perfume smells either. Once a taste on the wind saved her from something bad in the air.
With an aborted shake of her head she turned back to the mirror. Turned her head back to the rear came back slowly. Before she realized she stood three steps back. Her body had recognized the oddness before her mind did. The thing that made her skin crawl lay before her not behind her. What had alerted her was the fact that her image’s head hadn’t moved when hers did. She thought it may not have when she turned back, when she tested it, she found it true. That had promoted her mind to see what she hadn’t noticed before. Her image was perfect; same sword held at the same position in the same hand, the same with the torch. The scrolls showed. Her armor looked the same as did her cape, and her belt looked right.
My eyes do not glow like that.
Neither did her cowl did not cover her face with shadows like her image. Plus her bosom wasn’t that large.
So what lived in her image? Could it take her over? Was it responsible for the blood on the walls that the mold fed on? Could it be her from a different dimension? Some wise and learned men thought there were such dimensions. Not this time she thought. Someone worshipped whatever was in there, that had taken her image.
The liquid in the bowl bubbled, the flames flared. How cliche she thought. But the image came her way even as she took another step backwards. It raised its sword-just like she would. If she fought herself she might win or they could kill each other or it could be even. But that larger bosom could mean larger shoulder and arm muscles.
The candles
With the barest of thoughts, Tenda took three steps closer and using the sword carefully brushed the candles until they rested against the glass. If that was what this object was made from. The heat seemed to fog the base of the image. It burned inside the mirror but not the glass.
Damn that will take too long.
She moved the torch toward the image. A breeze warned her but she reacted too slow. A force reached out from the mirror. It grabbed her around the middle. The image smiled even though she didn’t know how she knew that. The strong grip pulled at her, she stepped back. Her strength wasn’t enough though. The tentacle-or whatever it was-felt slimy on bare skin. It hurt where it touched and pulled, like that rope the Kinssie used to capture her two years ago.
It partially blocked her sword arm, so she couldn’t get a good swing at it. Maybe she could drop and go for her stiletto in the sheath strapped to her side.
The sword fell and bounced with a clear clank-it always sounded musical because of the quality of the metal. The loudness confirmed that it had hit the shelf and stayed there. Her arms snaked into the slit but, part of what wrapped around her covered it. There had to be a way to defeat it before it pulled her inch by inch to the glass.
A light flickered, she glanced up at it. The image of the torch was nearer to her. A look down at the candles. They still burned but not fast enough. She bet the mirror image of the flames didn’t burn hot. How she knew that she couldn’t guess but that meant her first plan…
Nothing else to do so she shoved the torch in her free arm at the glass, but even though the image stopped, she couldn’t get close enough to touch it. Flames caught on the inside but it moved closer again. Faster this time. It acted determined to stop her. She needed to break the glass, but someone had done that already and it hadn’t worked.
Her feet slid on the brick floor. The image lifted its sword higher and readied it to skewer her. Or slice her throat. She had to fight it that meant she needed her sword again. A step forward-a a stink of something awful that burned reached her nose. Sweat dripped onto her forehead, down her underarms before her padding absorbed it.
Tenda managed to reach down and grab the hilt of her sword. The smooth metal in her hand and she pulled it up in a sudden, strong swing. It hit metal, too close to her belly. The image backed up and stepped again toward her. She swung again and swords squealed as one ran against the other.
Someone had broken the mirror before so it could be done. But there was one thing that person hadn’t done.
She gathered her strength and determination: with a yell she lounged forward in a fast, hard sudden movement with all of her strength and swung. Not at the other blade though. A loud click, followed by a crack but not of glass. The mirror rippled, the whole image twisted, one side titled. Then it started to fall. At the same moment she used the blade to flick two candles inside the image then stabbed it again with the torch. The head of the touch went into the mirror, broke off. The being opened its mouth in a silent scream and reared back. The glass continued to fall. Flames started to fill the image it produced. It shattered as it hit the shelf then the floor.
Her body jerked as the pressure halted. Tenda took a long breath. Ashes came it along with air. She turned back to the broken pieces of the mirror. What was left of the glass showed dark. Wait something flickered inside like a flame. She looked at the shattered pieces and the cut bone of the frame. So her idea to cut the frame had worked. It had held the glass together even after it was cracked badly. Only one candle remained lit and what light the burning image produced.
As quick as she could move she got out her flint and managed to start a fire on what was left of her torch. It caught and the light grew. She held it up, spun around. Nothing was around her. With a shake of her head she continued down the passageway. The three scrolls still poked out of her pouch and everything else seemed okay. But her hands shook.
On the way out she found one more room and maybe what she had searched for. There was another door that led from a mostly dust free passage. She hurried out that way and found an old abandoned temple. She went back to her Inn to seek out a bath.
End
Second story "The Roamer's Burn"
The Being roamed, as his type delighted in doing. He enjoyed the long empty spaces and he walked carefree because he knew very little in his environment could harm or even effect him. And he didn’t care where he went, just so that he moved and saw new sights, listen to sounds he hadn’t heard before, and smelled new aromas-even if the last one was rare. Those little points of heat sometimes produced sounds he that either soothed him, or excited his emotions. Most of all he liked to stroll along. He didn’t care where he went. He knew he had lived for a long time and that an object could change by the time he got to it, but that could become something new.
After a long life not much was new to him, but certain objects and events he didn’t mind seeing twice or even three times. The same with sounds. Some smells and a couple of noises though he hadn’t liked and would ovoid if he saw what made them in time.
Of the three, or four, dangers he needed to look out for only one was plentiful. One he could barely see, for most were small and light didn’t escape from it, but he saw with other radiations so he could see matter, heat, and light being pulled into one. He had only seen two that were large enough to grab him, but the smaller ones could do some damage to his body and would slow him too much as he fought to get free of it.
A third one was rare also and very hard to spot. A tiny point of light would just expand for some reason he didn’t know. The rapid expansion could harm him. One had badly injured a fellow being a while back. That one had headed for a red point of light but it expanded suddenly before he reached it. This roamer had heard the expension and the cry of his follow being. He was one of five who came to the injured one’s aid. The last danger he didn’t like to think about, it was so bad. All of his type were terrified of it.
There was of course tiny hazards. They were small round areas of light and extreme heat. They lay scattered almost everywhere and were a nascence. He always had to watch to keep from stepping too close to one.
He passed by a small object as it buzzed past him. It looked cold. He didn’t worry about it even though he had seen it three times. It could not harm him. Sometimes when one passed through him it slowed while it moved inside him. It almost tiggeled.
They are were other beings and creatures and most didn’t notice him, or they were very good at ignoring him.
He had no name, for he didn't need one. Each member of his race knew each other instantly, when they happened to meet each other, or heard them cry out. He didn’t know his true age for his people didn’t care of such matters. He just wanted to walk and see, hear, smell what was there, enjoying the movement of his body.
He looked to one side spotted a new set of colored objects, maybe he would head over there to take a closer look. When he took another step forward the Being grimaced. Aww, what?
Intense pain: a burning sensation in his lower leg. He had experienced with pain to know the different types and what it meant. He moved his hand reached for his upper shin. He proceeded to rub the spot, that had somehow been burned. He thought he smelled burnt skin, but that could be his imagination.
He looked down as he was rubbing the burn, and saw that he had gotten too close to one of the very small cinders, or points of light. Damn, he let himself be distracted.
The tiny lights were leftover from a huge explosion, that had occurred ages ago. It had been powerful enough to kill a couple of his followers, and to send these cinders over most of the terrain. He had been too close to one before, and knew they were extremely hot, even this long after the blast. This one was a bit smaller then many, and he hadn’t noticed it. After he straightened he went on his way determined to be more careful.
Even though he had been near it he hadn’t noticed or even would have cared except as a curiosity, that very tiny particles hung near the cinder. If he had looked closer he would have seen that the third one from this spot of light had a color, for a layer of water covered almost three-fourths of it. When he strode away though, it was almost totally covered with ice. Few of heartbeats later it warmed, long strands of hard ice receded. Large patches of frozen water at both ends of the particle shrunk, water flowed again. The inhabitants of the tiny blue mote came out of caves, and rejoiced that the ice was disappearing.
The end
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