#saturdayscene Aug 3
Got busy and forgot last week, almost forgot again even though I planned to do this one so this is late but still Saturday my time.
Another repeat which maybe one or two people here have probably read before. I have a cluster of seven stories here but all are shorter flash and mini tales. From 25 words to 607 words for a total of 1887 words. The mini stories were attempts to place or win in one of the onthepremises mini story contests. “Blue of Home” has been the only one to receive even an honorable mention so far. The longer ones were all based on pictures. All have been revised at least once. That includes the mini stories that have been lengthened in a couple of cases. About three years ago I decided I like doing these mini stories and even the longer flash. I will be putting out an anthology with 20 to 24 stories. Most will be these very short tales but there will be another anthology with longer 650 to 3750 word stories. I just need two covers and to revise some of the longer ones.
These are a variety of genres: fantasy, general fiction, science fiction, historical with a touch of fantasy and one that could be a couple of different genres including steampunk, fantasy and general fiction.
The first one is “Blue of Home” written on the premise of “Write a story no longer than 50 words that describes color in an innovative way. (No “black as night” clichés; etc.)” The last one will be “Good Work with Thread” the story that could be one of a couple different genre. The others are mixed up.
Blue of Home
The viewscreen showed a microscopic blue-Ben stared. The right blue, produced by life. The trip out had taken too long. He’d seen red suns, green nebalue, black holes--from a distance. None looked this perfect, a blue made from air and water. Ben smiled, the blue of home grew.
Ohh, no. Not Another One!
Ohhh no, not again-another one of those quests, the wizard thought, and it’s going to be long-again. Even as his friend the warrior, who would be king, cheered and challenged the four man team to see who would be first on those giant, wide steps. After they became solid enough and moved in a touch closer, of course. The warrior’s cape still bellowed out even though the bottom was in tatters. His sword, though, was still sharp, undinged and whole.
The new steps had just appeared from nowhere while the team stood at the end of wide path that had led to two man height pillars on the edge of this path. They each had rounded tops and a hole one could reach through at their tops. A person could almost fit their whole head through the holes. The wizard had reached it first and waited for the others.
At least here we could breath okay even though the air had a different flavor to it; thorny and mulchy and old, he thought.
The rest of the path just appeared with no flash or sound. The wizard could hear everyone’s steps and each one’s breathing, plus the warrior’s boosts, so there was sound here, but nothing when it came to be. It had taken him seconds to realize it was there. He assumed it had been the same for the others since they hadn’t said anything.
It looked like another ten minutes of walking would lead us to the doorway. Tall and it looked more like a cave entrance with a bright light inside. And what might be another two pillars.
They only had a basic idea of where it would take them. But it would be tough, scary, and they would have to use their strengths to the uttermost and to think hard, to get back to their lands. The wizard sighed.
The whole trip up he had wondered what beings needed a path this wide and steep. Fantastic torches set in the soil lined and lit one side all the way up. They seemed to be ever burning. What looked like giant thorns grew around the edges of the trail and along on the steps. It made it look like both sections belonged together. At the end of the short flight of steps
Everything had huge thorns here more than that TV show a while back. But the Wizard looked at the dwarf who was ready to go with the challenge even though he usually lost. The other guy just sort of stood there waiting, he went along with whatever happened without much compliant. His thick staff, or long club, came it handy. He could swing it fast and hard, plus his speed was enough to move out of the way of incoming swings.
But at just the right moment, when the three leaned forward and bunched their muscles for a jump, the Wizard stepped over the space and stood on the new steps while the others jumped. They each stared at him, incredulous showing.
He said, "If we are going, lets get going and get this one over with.”
end
Traveled
Joseph sat on the wood bench near where the train would stop. It looked like rain, which meant less people. He liked that idea, for that meant less people to see him.
The sudden steam whistle made known his need to stand. He sighed, but put out the effort. After he boarded he could sit on the train all of the way home. He would practice with his new artificial legs at his parents’ house.
Brightest Night
The two surviving Three Domes were full of people. Every room had lights on that showed that. No one knew why the first one had been tipped over in that huge storm during the earthquake, 88 years ago, while the others stood. But the one piece structure had shattered when it hit the side of the rock rise it had been built on. Scavengers had taken a lot of the material; some had been used to enlarge Dome Three.
Plus no one knew why the three large and two small domes had been built, centuries ago, on consecutive rises. For this purpose? To see and celebrate the brightest night of the year-and this one would the brightest in the years. To be used as way stations when people had to travel by horseback and on foot? The land here was cold and very rough. It had the end of a forest and the beginning of a very rough and cold mountain chain together after all. So a rest stop would have been good.
It didn’t really matter though, for we were here to party. These were now used to show us the brightest night without light pollution, or cars driving by interfering. Very soon the lights here would become superfluous when the bright sky turned even brighter. We would shout, bang our feet and enjoy the beauty and rarity of the sight.
end
Tenth
Jimmy readied himself for bed, thought of a higher power, smiled.
Today is the tenth, so ten complete days without it.
He had thought he would fail, but now he let pride fill him.
Even though he still wanted it, hope blossomed.
Now, I know I can do this.
Last Viking
The Viking looked over the side of his ship. The mountains rose out of the ocean, higher than he would want to climb anymore. The day looked cloudy and cold even though he was viking and therefore used to cold. While not as deep as in some places the water here was still deep enough to hide monsters, or even an angry whale.
Askell glanced along his longship. The wood looked aged, it had nicks, claw marks, and blacken areas. That last fire they barely got out in time. He supposed he could get one of the new style of ships with multiple masts but he, and his crew, were too old to change that much.
He stroked his grey beard, looked down.
"To port now!” He shouted
Something scraped the hull as the longship turned too slowly.
So this ocean was not deep, those rocks were hard to see. Movement under the water, Oh oh, something huge lived down there.
It neared the surface and before he could cry out for them to raise oars, three of them hit it. It thrashed, caused water to splash into the longboat. Cold water that soaked their footwear. The oars didn’t break, thank Odin.
He snarled, spat bile out. Nothing would sink them in this cruise.
Once the water settled again he ordered them to head for the distant bit of land. It had what looked like a strip of land they could beach the longship. Further in lay the base of a tall cliff They might be able to build housing right next to the cliff and have fish, birds and seals and maybe even smaller whales to eating and to use for tools and clothes.
He looked around. No one would be chasing them this far, but if they did they would pay for that with their blood, for his crew still kept their weapons sharp.
Askell double checked the depth and for any other movements. He would have to be on his toes to make sure nothing else hindered them.
end
Good Work With Thread
He sighed. He leaned back in his slightly stuffed chair-dirty gray after all these years. It was warm in here again. Too cold in the summer, too hot in the winter, even though just right in fall and spring. That meant winter existed outside. When he finished this grand design he would have to take a break and check it out. He liked the rain and fog.
A moment later when he took a second to watch the hundred and eleven threads come his way he realized something else. The cotton threads smelled of mildew. Only a wee bit, but enough for his nose to notice. The buyers wouldn’t. But it confirmed his idea of the season of the year. Tiny amounts of mildew only formed when it got hot after the threads got wet. It rained outside so they would get wet while they were brought in here, but then they would dry in the heat inside. And soon it may get in his mouth because very tiny amounts of mildew stayed on his hands. It built up after a while and would get on his tongue when he brushed his lips.
His hands played back and forth along his loom. He decided on which colors and which types of fabric joined the others to form the pattern he wanted. He liked the pure gold and silver threads he used at times. The bright colors were a nice break in the same colors most customers wanted. They felt more metallic too-a good change now and then.
The rattle the loom made was a subconscious song to him. Most of the time it went on without his mind paying attention. However if it sounded an off note he would know instantly. It had three weeks ago and he had gotten behind while it had been fixed. Now he was almost caught up with all of the orders. There would be always more for his work was excellent.
It hadn’t always been of course but over the long years he had gotten used to the old grey, stone walls behind him, the changes in the temperature and smooth wood on the loom. Even the strange way the many almost microscopic fibers in the air he breathed in changed the taste of his lunches. It didn’t matter what he brought with him, it always had a different flavor than at home. Except the once he had to use an oxygen tank for a few weeks because of a lung infection. He had been so glad to stop carrying that tank around, but he missed it at times during lunch.
He had been afraid he would die, perhaps falling over onto an unfinished project. Part of him wouldn’t have cared, this job had gotten boring. But they had cured him and now he again enjoyed the way the threads played over his hands and into the loom, forming the design he wanted. Afterwards he had taken chances with intricate motifs. Those he enjoyed the most and seeing, or reading, a customer express joy was worth the extra trouble.
The weather had become more enjoyable too. He didn’t use to like fog but now he did.
He paused to use a handkerchief to wipe perspiration from his forehead-to make sure he didn’t get any sweat on his project or in his eyes. Too much heat in the winter was still a pain though.
After many minutes, he smiled at the design that formed: a beautiful star field with golds, slivers, bright reads and some yellows. Yeah, this one would be great and worth the heat.
end
Hope you enjoyed them and make a comment or two.
#fantasy #sciencefiction #history #steampunk #generalfiction #contests #freestories #freebies #shortstories #amwriting #blue #indie #saturdayscenes
