Mylo's Short Story Challenge!

[Mylo]

by the way, maybe its not such a bad idea for others who are passionate about writing to do a similar challenge. I enjoy it so much that it gives me a reason to write, and this will definitely be a help while I write my novel. So maybe others can do this too and have just as much fun as I'm having?

I want to try this out.  With school done for the summer, I'll have a lot of time to pursue something like this, and I'll also get the chance to maybe develop some better writing skills.  Essentially, it's the same as Jet's thread.  Post a word, and I'll write a story about or pertaining to said word.  

[Jet]

Yays! I'm inspiring people, and better yet...I'm inspiring people through writing, which is my favorite art! Cool.

So, seeing that you are now starting to write short stories based off words the community gives you, allow me to be your first...what would we be...opponents? i dont know, just write for me!

Let's try...maybe..... redundant! That seems like a decent enough word. Good luck Mylo!

[Blackrose13]

Twilight (please not the vampire movie  )

[Mylo]

Let's try...maybe..... redundant! That seems like a decent enough word. Good luck Mylo!

Thanks for posting Jet!  So here is the story for redundant.  Hope you all find it interesting.  This reads a lot like a premise...I'd love the chance to explore an individual character in this world in more personal detail.  Next up is Blackrose's twilight sans vampires. XD

Noah began to feel a strain in his eyes, which were nearly suctioned to the eyepiece of the microscope he had been using for hours that day.  He was one of many workers in the factory, those they liked to refer to as scientists, called into action in a time of war.  Hardly a war…more like a show of force, or perhaps economic power.  But these were worldly ideas to Noah, who saw nothing but the microscopic eggs floating in a gel, suspended from growth until he could perform his crucial operation.  It was like magic.  After resting his eyes for a minute, Noah resumed his job, tightening his latex gloves and feeling around for the inward-pointing micro pipette attached to the side of his apparatus.  He had done it so many times, it had become less of a procedure and more of a habit; a magician on stage smiling and awing.  The pipette was his wand and these small eggs were his volunteers.  One by one, he carefully inserted the pipette into a single egg.  Pressing a small button, the pipette immediately injected one small round mass into the minute orb floating like a lone jellyfish in thick water.  And just like that, the operation was done; nucleus and egg had been united in a single action so quickly and so easily.  Noah pushed it to the side and moved on to the next one.  Inject.  Done.  Inject.  Done.  Inject.  Done.  A fairly simple job for a fairly simple man standing among rows and rows of fairly simple men fertilizing the supply of eggs for the day.  This was but one room of the factory…these eggs would be packaged and moved to the next room, where they would be inspected for completeness in the unification process.  Then they would be grown in tubes, side by side, for 1.5 years at an accelerated growth rate until they became the equivalent of 23 year old males.  They would learn for 1.5 years at an accelerated pace.  And their final destination: the war front.  Noah’s society had great mastery over this process, and had been using it to spread their borders around the globe.  The secret to overcoming a stalemate, they thought, was simply to outnumber their opponents.  The country’s original people waited in comfort while their creations fought for them, brainwashed to serve the privileged nation.  Noah saw the propaganda video posters spread out across the factory.  All summarised the same plan: Only three more months and there will be one of our warriors for every warrior in the enemy nations, and in a year, two warriors for every single human in the enemy nations.  In another year, there would be three for every human on Earth.  So Noah continued to fertilise the eggs one by one.  Inject.  Done.  One more human to match an enemy.  Inject.  Done.  One more human to replace one who died on the front.  Inject.  Done.  He thought nothing of it, for he had never seen the horrors across the sea.  They were just egg and nucleus.  Number and quota.  Life and breath.     

[Jet]

Nicely done! Really excellent story to start off your thread. I was gonna go to bed and read it when I woke up, but once I knew you posted, I couldn't sleep until I at least read it. Then I had to comment of course. Very interesting story, too. Well written and I am actually interested to learn more about this world, which is a great thing since this is just a nice little story. It amazing it got me hooked into learning more about the world these people lived in. Good job, and may many more like this arise in the future.

So, hows about another word for ya? Maybe something like... Disorient

[Mylo]

Twilight (please not the vampire movie  )

So here is another story, this time based around the word twilight. I wanted to go for a more normal plot line, just to see how it turned out. Tomorrow I'll be doing the story for disorient. Thanks everybody who's been reading and posting words! This is quite fun! Anyways...there are numerous tense errors, but I wanted to put the story out there before tomorrow (I've got so much stuff to do... DX). Enjoy

Work was to end as usual at six that evening. I shuffled and organized my papers to pass the time leading up to my favourite hour of the day: the time where I would walk out of my dry office job and into the bustling city as the sun fell below the skyline.  It was always beautiful this time of year, the way the sun's many rays would reflect from the gothic glass and marble that made up the towering apartment complexes and office buildings. The city was known for its twilight...the exteriors of the building were coated in such a way that when light hit them at an oblique angle, they would emit a soft rainbow glow in all directions. It was especially beautiful just before the sun would "set" (at least behind the buildings in the distance. As mundane as my job was, I would always look forward to this time.
I walked out of the building, dropping my ID badge into a bin on the side of the entrance. Freedom. Outside, there were so many people going about with their busy lives, talking on mobiles, listening to music, conversing with colleagues. But I was pensive. I liked to take this opportunity to simply look around at what was around and before me; there were so many colours and sounds and people.
I walked down the concrete, absorbing the reds, the violets, and everything in between with my covered eyes (I was wearing a pair of sunglasses because I was walking towards the sun to get to my apartment). The anger of some people, sounding horns in their cars, yelling at the people walking on the street. All of this was comfort that I was a part of this bustling city, that I was one element in a network of people and places who all lived in "harmony."
I had gone to grab a bite to eat, but the line was unusually long today, and so I didn't get my food for a half hour. The sun had set. The sky was violet. I ate my food at the restaurant; I wouldn't usually do this, but today was a rough day at work, and I felt like taking a break from eating alone at home. Another fifteen minutes or so went by, and then I left the restaurant feeling satisfied. The rainbows that glistened only an hour before we're replaced by the dull glows of off-yellow incandescents lighting the roads and sidewalks. As I walked by my turn off road, I remembered that there was to be construction after six today. Dang it, I thought. I would have to go back home another way.
So I went a street down and turned in the direction of my apartment. The light bulbs hanging over the roads were especially dim; half of them were out. The asphalt was very defective, with potholes carved all over the surface.  To think that this street existed just to the left of the one that I walk along everyday.  The street was devoid of people, so I walked casually down, but under a light pole, I saw a man dressed in rags sitting down with his right leg bent up, his right arm resting casually atop the knee. He had the beginnings of a white beard, and he was wearing a green jacket with a tattered baseball cap. A plastic cup sat just beyond his hand, filled with a few coins of various sizes. I had gotten change from the dinner I had...a few dollar bills and some dimes, and I felt sorry for this man, sitting alone on the side of the road. I pulled out my wallet in front of him.
Suddenly, he shot up and pulled a knife from his green jacket. I was such an idiot, pulling my wallet out like that. I did it impulsively...I wasn't thinking. My change was in my front pocket, and now here I was with a knife at my chest. He quietly told me to give me the wallet, my mobile, and my watch. I was unprepared for a situation like this, but I was surprisingly calm and respectfully took off my watch and handed it to him. I handed him my mobile...he inspected it, and told me to unlock it. I told him I couldn't do that, and he asked me again for my wallet. He looked more nervous than I was, so I just did what he said and handed him the wallet. But as he reached for it, he knocked it out of my hand and onto the ground. Now, I had a stun gun in my jacket pocket that I wanted to take out now. As I bent over to pick up my wallet, I felt a sense of false pride, and I reached into my jacket pocket pulling out the stun gun. I quickly released the safety, jabbed it into his neck, and hit the trigger; he subsequently jerked and stabbed me with his knife where my right lung would be. I was stupid that day...I was overconfident in my abilities and my toys, and I thought that I could just run home and forget it ever happened after reporting it to the police. I couldn't understand why I had done that...what was I thinking? I fell down. The stun gun hit the ground beside me; the man realised what he had done and quickly grabbed my things and left. I was still in shock as to what happened.  I was in a dream-like state, but my chest felt like it was on fire. I moaned for help, and laid there, thinking about the rainbow city that I would see tomorrow night as I slowly drifted into sleep, listening to nothing but the eventual car going down the main road.

[Blackrose13]

very good. Mysterious, and very beautiful imagery. Good work Mylo, I applaud your efforts. (round of applause)

[Old Rabbit]

Nice work Mylo. It was easy to get a mental image from the story.

How about  "creepy"   


Old Rabbit

[Mylo]

So, hows about another word for ya? Maybe something like... Disorient

Thanks for the comments Jet, Blackrose, and Old Rabbit.  I'm glad you all like the stories I've written so far. This is a small story I developed from one of my previous ideas. In fact, the earlier story that I wrote for this idea was one of the first things I posted on this forum. Enjoy the story for disorient...

The clouds were perfectly white and the sky was a solid blue. Too blue. The plants were all alive and healthy, saturated with greens and the colours of their flowers. All was perfect on this cool summer day as Leon walked down the road to the soda fountain at the end of the main road.  He was savouring a grape soda and planned on meeting his friends there to talk about the usual things they would discuss: classes, movies, and girls. Leon had a sort of swagger; he was wearing a solid yellow polo with a red collar and solid blue jeans, finished off with a pair of sunglasses to protect his blue eyes.  
The street instantly became crowded.  It was rush hour, thought Leon, and he continued to walk on to the white building just a few blocks down. A mechanical voice confirmed that is was safe to cross the road ahead, and so Leon joined the mass of people transversing the black asphalt, which was completely flat and lacking defect. Everyone was minding their own business, walking in whichever direction, but that didn't stop them from bumping into each other. Leon pushed through; the streets seemed like they were getting more crowded. And then, just like that, Leon fell to the ground after someone bumped into him and he tripped over another's shoe. The crowd blurred around him, but he quickly sat up and saw the person he had bumped into, also knocked down, staring back with a pair of large white eyes. This was a fur, those who walked in the bodies of human animals. Leon never quite understood them...  The fur was what looked like a greyish white wolf or something like that. Leon got up shyly and put on his sunglasses again, which had fallen from his face as he got up. The crowd blurred around him. 
"I'm so sorry," said the fur. From the sound of the voice, Leon could tell the fur was female. 
Leon didn't know what to say back, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "No no. Um. I'm just...it's all right." 
Just then, the wolf disappeared and the black of the asphalt engulfed Leon completely. He saw flashing lights of all colours, desaturating very quickly, and in an instant he was lying in a chair with a small white plastic apparatus on the back of his neck, hearing a soft beeping noise in the background as the words "Connection error. Network overload." flashed across the wide flat panel on the wall in front of him. 
"Where am I?" thought Leon. He remembered that he was in a Vire launch station on the corner of Vandal and 443rd, one of thousands in the old and decaying city Leon had grown up in. 
"Why am I here?" thought Leon. He remembered that he was here to use a Vire (Virtual Reality) Personal Simulator and Launcher to log into the online word built to replace the old world of dying metal, pollution, and overpopulation. 
"How long have I been here?" thought Leon. He looked at the timer on the wall next to the wireless payment system. 54 hours and 3 minutes.  His stomach began to cramp badly. Timers were required by law in some places but not here. Leon felt light headed, and emptied his almost empty stomach in the trash can beside his station. Then he tapped his phone on the payment receiver, saw the balance decrease to zero, and waited for rush hour to subside. 

[Jet]

Ooo... interesting. Sounds like an excerpt from a larger work like a novel or something. Great job. This was amazing and I had t fun reading it. keep it up.

So lets try another word, shall we? *rifles through some words in his head* Uhhhmmm... Let's try.. Disembodied. That seems like a strange and unusual word, so that should make for a fun write.

[Mylo]

How about  "creepy"  

Whenever I think of creepy, I think of online stalking.  So, I decided to write a story about someone's paranoia over this and especially how small details can evoke big responses.  As for the next word (disembodied), I have no idea what to do... This'll be quite challenging because it is such a specific thing.  
Anyways, the story for creepy:

I wonder how deep someone would delve to discover my identity.  What is the motivation?  Perhaps it is  a challenge, or maybe it is intended to make themselves more comfortable around me.  Whatever the reason, the thought crosses my mind of the lengths to which one could go to discover more about me than I ever intended to share with them.  Who knows the paths that people could trace given only a small set of information, a few facts which they can connect like puzzle pieces (actually, more like Sudoku, where you use your found numbers to discover even more numbers until you finish the entire puzzle).  How deep does one invest themselves into a community?  What would someone do?
Danny thought of all the possibilities as he continued to type on his computer.  He had a way of picking things apart, overthinking things…it dug into his mind always sending shivers down his body.  He first thought of the things he had shared…he lived in Rail, was 20 years old, and was involved in a fencing club.  Then the thoughts started to flow in, like a dam had been broken in Danny’s mind, and apprehensiveness and doubt were released to flow uncontrollably as he began a train of thought that led him to the conclusion that someone, somewhere, could discover who he was behind the mask of the Internet.
He began to think.  The fact that he was 20 and in a fencing club had a few possibilities.  Fencing was stereotypically considered a sport for the well-off if it was a stand-alone club in his town.  Then again, his town was relatively normal…something like a large town, and there weren’t enough interested people to justify a fencing club outside of the colleges.  There were three colleges in that area (colleges being the only other place where a fencing club could be found): Rail Community College, Jared Johnson College, and Rail Women’s University.  Danny had shared his gender, so Rail Women’s was out, leaving only RCC and JJC.  Both had club directories, easy enough to search through.  None had intramural fencing, and only JC had a varsity team, so RCC was ruled out.  JC’s Men’s team was 12 men strong.  They each had a picture and information next to the name…simple things like class year.  He thought that his age would be useful in sorting the set in half…the Sophomores and Juniors.  6 men to choose from.  Danny was on the RCC fencing website, looking at his picture eighth from the top, smiling back at him confidently.  But how to choose between the six?  There was his Facebook, but that was set to private everything, so no one could connect to his friends.  But, perhaps someone could look at the other members of the fencing team.  At least one of them wouldn’t be so cautious about his privacy settings, revealing his friend lists and Danny’s pictures to the rest of the world.  Someone could make a false account, friend Danny’s fencing team members, whom one would most likely friend back out of habit.  Perhaps then they could change their name and friend the others (whom they had rejected before, which justifies changing the name so that it is a fresh friend request).  And after all this, they might just get access to the information on Danny’s Facebook indirectly through his friends.  Maybe there was something he liked that could hint towards his true identity, something that would complete that final connection between false and true self.  Maybe someone would crack it.  
Danny was then distracted by a friend’s picture on the fencing website, which was particularly embarrasing.  

[Old Rabbit]

You did a nice job working your idea of creepy into the
story.. 

So how about  "Botany"

[Jet]

Hmm... That is not what I expected...Nicely done. I think you did very good on this. It reminded me of a movie I saw, i think named Sahara? Maybe... I dont know. But this was an awesome story to read.

I am thinking another word could be... Junker.

I can explain why i though of this word after you write it if you want, I dont want to fill your head with ideas before you get the chance to make your own.

[typingwithpaws]

michael howard....LOOOOOL



you 2 are both mad!....hmm....dont tempt me to be a copy cat 

[Jet]

michael howard....LOOOOOL



you 2 are both mad!....hmm....dont tempt me to be a copy cat 

We may be mad, we may even be crazy! But, we are having one hell of a time! You should join, its actually a lot of fun. I little time consuming, but with summer coming up, Ill just be drawing and writing anyways. Gotta keep myself busy somehow. Plus this is great practice, and its given me some great ideas as well, for my novel.

[Mylo]

I'm with Jet on the fact that this is a whole lot of fun You should definitely join if you feel up to it!

So how about  "Botany"

This one also has a theme of war present, but I wanted to take on a different side...there are so many faces to war to describe, whether it be experience or speculation...  Enjoy the story for botany.

She had picked the best flowers to put on the dining table that afternoon, emphasising the ever luscious summer she had seen for many years this time of August.  They reminded her of the times she would come out to her garden and smell the various herbs she grew with such care, picking only the best ones to put in their dinner, hers and her husband’s.  They had moved atop a hill back in the homeland, overseeing a picture-perfect green valley after her husband was promoted in the Army.  She was so excited to find out that they would have space to have a garden, and the weather would be so permitting, which was why she spent the months before the move studying the different plants that she would grow, for eating and for looking.  But this fine day in August, much like the year before and the year before that, she put the flowers in the crystal vase in the centre of the breakfast table and set the table for only one, for her husband was overseas fighting in the War.  She waited patiently, with apprehension, fear, discomfort, and love, waiting for the day when her husband would walk up the hill to the open door of their house.  Then, she would make him pasta with fresh tomatoes and basil from the garden and give her that smile that broke her heart so many years ago.
She hadn’t spoken to him in years, nor had she received a letter of any kind.  She waved goodbye with a static depiction of her husband present in her mind.  She always pushed the doubt from her head, but at times, it was difficult.  At times, it could be maddening, but she trusted him.  As she put the angel hair in the boiling water, she thought of various situations that could arise after his homecoming.  Would she recognize his face or his self?  Would he be the same person that waved back to her as he walked down the hill and into the valley, where he would be whisked off to the coast?  Would he still love her, she who never changed during their separation…would the excitement of war have drained him of his love for his static wife?  What had he seen; what would he see differently?  She felt a sting on her hand and pulled back suddenly.  The boiling water was overflowing rapidly and the bubbles had spewed a few drips of hot water on her hands as she was preoccupied with her thoughts.  She quickly grabbed the pot by the handle and shifted it to the burner on the right, which wasn’t on.  Afterwards, she wiped her hand (which was not burned by the water) and added the spices to her dinner.  She drained the pasta and poured it onto a plate, where it settled into an even circular pile in the centre of the porcelain plate that was etched with a green vine design.  But as she brought it to the table, she noticed a sound (emanating from a distance) much like the sound made by motor cars when she was in town.  She thought nothing of it at first, and proceeded to sprinkle a bit of basil on her pasta (she had prepared a tomatoe sauce concurrently which she had poured on her pasta before bringing it to the table).  The sound grew louder.  She looked to the front window where a motor car was driving up the hill on the gravel road, shooting out a stream of black smoke from its tail pipe.  The car had the insignia on it, the same insignia that graced her husband’s uniform.  She stood there for a moment, out of breath.  She inhaled slightly, and her legs numbed; she consequently sat down in her chair in front of her still-steaming dinner.  She knew what happened when the motor cars came to your house, but she was in disbelief at first, and simply stared out the wide window at the motor car spewing its smoke, rolling towards her home at a constant pace.  It stopped just a little ways down the hill, about 40 or 50 steps.  Her peripheral vision went black, and she became increasingly light-headed…the smell of her dinner was nauseating her, so she stood up and stumbled to the door to breathe fresh air.  In that short walk from the table to the door, she had forgotten about the motor car’s presence, hoping it was her imagination, but as she stepped out the door, she saw the door open to her husband’s scarred face, smiling back at her with a duffle bag by his side.  She said his name softly and a tear shed down her face, which she wiped off immediately while walking to her husband briskly.  She didn’t notice, after he had stepped out of the car, that the left side of his pants was tied to the knee with a large knot.  She smiled at him and felt so joyous that she could still see the man to whom she said goodbye by the familiar eyes which complimented his warming smile, both of which had remained as static as the August summer when the flowers grew so plentifully.  


The next word is junker.

[Old Rabbit]

That is a fine story that touches ones heart.
Very nice take on the word Mylo.

[redyoshi49q]

This is an interesting experiment you two are running.

I have a word for you, Mylo.  Try one on "dissonance".

[Kobuk]

Ok, How about trying this word:  Yukon

[Old Rabbit]

Another fine job Mylo..  

Shows one should carry a survival pack in
a lonely desert environment..  

How about "pack"  

[typingwithpaws]

good read!

stories like that annoy me slightly (in a good way), i have trouble comprehending people who cannot do things such as fix cars. i know i know, i simply cannot sing. same senario.

the whole time while reading that i was thinking "aaaahhhh, check the battery terminals, give the starter a bash with a rock, get it set up and ready for a tow/push start should someone come along"


THIS MEANS YOU DREW THE READER IN!!!! fantastic work mate!

[Old Rabbit]

Well written Mylo.

That story would fit "slaughter or ambush" as well.  It's tragic but soldiers have
died in similar events where everyone was killed.

[Hashira]

Ive read a few and they're awesome Mylo! How about: Spy.

[Jet]

     
what was that! Oh my God! My whole body was shivering and chills raced down my spine shooting out my toes like bolts of electricity! Your story for dissonance was amazing. The total war and fear felt by those who lived and died in that short amount of time. I was ignoring people talking to me in the IRC and Skype so I could just read one more line. Just one more line. One more... Then it, ended... I want to read the whole novel that this small piece was obviously pulled from. Seriously, there must be a whole novel out of this! Ive gotta buy that thing! This was extremely good. Some of the best writing I have seen here. Seriously, I cant even find the words to congratulate you!

Thanks for taking my advice and starting a short story challenge of your own. And Thanks for allowing my eyes to fall humbly upon the words your mind formed. This was an amazing story, and I loved it. Also, its not that bloody. That's just my opinion, but this was rather tame for war. Great job.


I dont believe I have posted a new word after Junker, so let me think of another one for you. How about one of my favorite words to read in literature, what about Materialize. I am interested in what you could write about for materialize.

[redyoshi49q]

Your interpretation of the word "dissonance" is markedly different than my own perception of the term (most notably, I was surprised to see a wartime theme in the result).  Having said that, you pulled off the theme excellently; the story had an irresistibly strong hook, and expressed the concept of dissonance in the myriad of related details you included.

I have another word (or, rather, your choice of a word, since I couldn't decide between two) to append to your queue.  You might be familiar with these words if you've taken a computational theory class.  Try either "determinism" or "nondeterminism".  The latter is easiest to define as an opposite of the former, but this isn't *quite* accurate.  The many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics is an easy to cite example of nondeterminism.