Author Topic: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!  (Read 12028 times)

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Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #50 on: July 31, 2012, 12:41:52 pm »
Nicely done Mylo. Reminds me of the saying. "Should have stayed in bed." 

How about "hysterical"  :orbunny:
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #51 on: August 08, 2012, 07:20:50 pm »
if you have not got a large back log, then try: Safety

After another long hiatus, here is another story.  :)

...

She sat on the beach that sun-soaked afternoon, reflecting the rays of the sun in all directions; she who lost her husband some time ago, about ten years, just before her child was born, the child who was playing in the shallow water, watching the waves sway like the metronome of the beach.  The child, called Lin, having never known his father, had no fear or remorse or the empty part of the heart that exists when one loses a loved one, for he had no idea of what a father was, nor did he look upon the other children envious of their fathers.  He thought his predicament normal.  Lin’s mother, Yan, looked upon her son with a slight smile, enjoying the sight of his face, a face that displayed utter fascination with the white waves and the indigo ocean that stretched to the islands on the horizon.  It had been so long, she only cared about the now, the new life, her son, and the thousands of other sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, on the beach that day…it was so hot and the water so cool.  And as she stretched her legs out and dug her toes into the sand, her feet following after, she closed her eyes for a second to listen to the sounds of the ocean and of the people, to recline and relax.  Splashes.  The sound of the water sliding over the sand, pushing up rock and seaweed and shells from the depths below.  A girl’s laughter.  She opened her eyes, seeing white as her eyes adjusted to the intense sunlight pouring in, her eyes quickly adjusting to the colors of the view.  But as she looked back to where her son had been, her eyes met the empty water filling with ten other people who were diffusing to ease the crowd. 
“Lin?” she called out, getting up quickly from her towel and launching sand a foot in front of her as she lifted her feet from the ground.  She stood and scanned around at the myriad of people, seemingly as diverse as the seashells encrusting the sand, periodically revealed as the waves rose and fell.  She was very concerned; the sheer amount of people was intimidating, and to find him among the numbers would be confusing and…
“Lin?” she called out again.  “Lin, where are you?”  The others lying on the sand, soaking the sun like the sand soaked the water, focused their attention to her for a second to see what she was shouting at.  They didn’t stare at her, not wanting to get involved, knowing that her son was probably somewhere among the people, one of the many children running about, building sand castles with a newfound friend or splashing others with the water.  There were so many people in the water, they thought, that there was little possibility anything terrible could have happened to this kid, and that his mother, the one walking frantically along the shore line, waves breaking at her feet as she wove between the people and scanned beyond their shoulders, would find her child in short time.  So, they went about their business again, ignoring the woman, minding themselves, directing their attention at the next odd sight along the beach until they had nothing to focus on…in which case, they could relax.
Yan felt slightly nauseous, the feeling one gets when they know they’ve lost or forgotten something very valuable, perhaps invaluable.  She thought, I should have kept him safe, with me.  I should have kept him safe.  And as her mind trailed, following the repetition of scanning and matching faces, a thought crossed her head: the thought of her husband, smiling at her when they discovered she was going to have a child, that she was going to have a boy, and that they would name him Lin.  I should have kept him safe.  She looked at the water…but she denied her most grievous thoughts and turned around to continue searching.
And as she rounded another wave of people, this time heading back to her bag and towel and umbrella, she laid eyes on Lin, smiling at another child, building a sand castle together.  Part of the sand had just collapsed; Lin’s newfound friend scooped up another pile of sand with his hands and filled in the hole, fixing the grand wall they had built together.  They were both nestled in between several other families, having found a plot of sand not occupied by a towel, a person, or the water, for the beach was crowded as always.  She smiled and breathed and stroked her hair back behind her ears, only for it to fall back down again beside her eyes; it seemed as if she had held her breath throughout the entire ordeal, which had lasted less than a minute, but which seemed to take so much longer.  In her heart, she wanted to go up to him, scoop him up like the sand for the castle, and hug him tightly, never to let him go again.  But in her mind…
She saw Lin’s smiling face, but Lin did not see her.  He was too affixed on his friend and castle, and so she watched him from that distance and listened to the sounds of the beach with eyes open, mind open, heart open.   

...

The next word is hysterical.

Offline The Wise one

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #52 on: August 08, 2012, 10:40:22 pm »
Survival
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #53 on: August 09, 2012, 12:56:37 pm »
How about "hysterical"  :orbunny:

Perhaps a war story with no war...  What do you all think he is laughing about?  ;)  Anyways...

...

We were marching inland to take the river valley.  Our weapons were loaded, but we had expected no resistance from the nation who had surrendered the moment we landed on their shores.  The jungle had been fierce the night before, and I had been bitten by all sorts of insects, leaving tiny welts along my arms, legs, and neck.  I tried to fight the urge to scratch, but those bites itched.  My captain and fellow men were all scratching themselves…the insects had done more damage to us then the people.  Good thing they’d be gone in the coming weeks.
We were the initials, the team that took control of the land before the main squads came in.  It was our job to stake control and muster up some organization amidst the chaos of a fallen nation.  The next squad would come with supplies, and then the one after that, the one we were all waiting for, with their torches and oil, would burn the jungle to the ground to eliminate the disease, the dangerous animals, and whatever else that had an advantage in the vines and canopy. 
Finally, after a few days of travel, we had reached our destination, and I was surprised.  It was a slum; just a few shacks along the river, some boats along the shore.  The jungle was clear for a quarter mile along this valley, but so was the village.  Everyone had left, it seemed.  We weren’t there to hurt or kill the natives; we weren’t savages.  But the valley was quiet, the village was desolate, and we marched with caution waiting to see if this was some sort of isolated ambush…we were prepared.  I thought their spirits would have been too demoralized, but then again, I’d been wrong so many times before. 
We walked into the village, with shacks made of mud and sticks.  The smell was awful.  Small puddles of grey liquid lurked along the dirt pathways.  There was no fire, no smoke.  No sound.
Suddenly, my captain (who had ventured just a few steps ahead of us) put up his hand, motioning us to stop.  He was looking to his left around the corner of one particularly awful-looking shack, its roof half caved in.  Then, he motioned us to come forward.  I walked up to his position, slowly looking around the corner to get a look at whatever caught the sight of my captain.  There, sitting on a rock, was an old man.  His eyes were half open; his hair was grey and white.  He had brown, leathery skin with black spots and wore absolutely nothing.  But I could see his hands and feet…he had nothing to hide, though it was odd that he was just sitting there staring.
My captain called out to him, “Hey!  You!  Where is—ah God-dam—where’s Pak?”  He was referring to our translator, a tall soldier with glasses.  He didn’t talk much to us.  Pak briskly moved to the captain’s side.  “Ask him where the other villagers are.”
Pak spoke in the language of this nation.  The old man opened his eyes slightly, as if to express that he was paying attention, but he did not respond. 
“Ask him what happened here,” commanded my captain.  Pak again shouted to the old man, who did nothing but stare back.
“All right then,” said my captain.  “Koa!  Radio into home base.  Tell ‘em—“
At that moment, the old man started laughing loudly.  It frightened a few of the soldiers, just for a second out of surprise.  They looked back at him with confused expressions.  He kept on laughing.
“Who is he laughing at?” I asked, sort of rhetorically.  “Us?”
“He’s probably just screwing with us,” said a soldier behind me.  “At least this guy’s got a sense of humor.”
But he continued on laughing, almost manically.  I wondered myself what he was laughing at.  I tried not to scare myself, thinking we were in some sort of trap.  The old man’s eyes were wide open now…his wrinkles were so evident on his face, that we could see the cast shadows from that distance away.  His stomach muscles were contracting with every breath.
“What now Captain?” asked another soldier.
“Ignore him,” my captain said immediately.  “Come on Koa, just radio in already.  Next squad’s gotta get up here before the sun gets down…I’m not spending another night getting’ eaten alive.”
The old man continued to laugh.  Perhaps at us?  Perhaps at his situation?  Did he think we were going to take him prisoner?  Kill him?  I was thinking too much into it…we began to set up our post. 

...

The next story will be about survival.

Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #54 on: August 09, 2012, 02:13:32 pm »
Survival

...

Any country he touched with his hand bled gold, and they all bowed down at his feet to have a chance at his wealth and prosperity, giving him the opportunity to influence local governments and place people of political power at his disposal and command.  He burned the jungles, replacing them with the long, black, glass-like structures that had the slightest tinge of green, the photosynthetic unit factories that would employ much of the population, eradicating disease as every tree fell beneath the arm of his conglomerate, the new monarchy.  He laid down grey concrete and steel, carbon, the base for the future and the tried-and-tested past, the old world’s glory swept across the massacre of nature, a precedent set by Information City decades before.  He gave them roads and advanced the traffic control systems to handle the massive population of humans that had infected every level and every corner of the earth, skyscrapers that reached the heavens in grandiose architecture, eclipsed by the spire, the tallest tower in every city, his watchful eye and a symbol of his domination, the epitome of every skyline.
And the world converged underneath his hand.  War was a long forgotten nightmare, buried away under the shadow of Project Nectarine, whose laser-equipped satellites circled the earth in preparation to fire at a moment’s notice with precision that could distinguish between individual people in a crowd, the same project that led to the destruction of the world’s most coveted city, the project that directly led to the conglomerate’s manifestation of the world; people saw them in the sky, passing slowly above their heads, moving stars in the night sky, hanging 200 miles above the earth in perfect orbit, waiting.  The developing world became the developed, rising above the memories of poverty and war, death and destruction, placing their trust in the conglomerate, who would keep them safe.  There would always be enough food, enough water.  Mothers would no longer have to make the decision of feeding their child or themselves, children would never have to see their mothers starve as they fed them their final meals, and fathers and husbands would no longer die in wars they didn’t believe in or were coerced into fighting or were caught in the conflict.  And as they pledged their faith, he came and built infrastructure, telecommunications, and economy.
Developed nations became congruent with the conglomerate and adjusted their laws and constitutions to cater to the massive hand, to ease the transition to a better age of openness and harmony, regressing back from democracy which had destroyed itself beneath its own weight, relinquishing power in favor of money, money in favor of wealth, wealth in favor of superficial happiness and meaning, all to what they believed to be an unbiased mind and hand.  The distractions of sorrow and hardship no longer had meaning as humans from these nations searched for greater existence in their thoughts and actions, looking to themselves rather than their conglomerate to distinguish happiness from happiness.  The old morals were destroyed.  Humans adjusted their bodies and minds, becoming unrecognizable humanoids, however restricted by the conglomerate.  And as time moved on, they resented his hand, and affirmed their individuality over all other humanoids…but they had built their bodies with his hand and his wealth and his mind and plan, and by then it was too late to revert to the old world, for the new world had taken their lives by the will of the people as rampant consumerism destroyed the soul of the people, rendered shells, mere metadata that his supercomputers would analyze, tabulate, and feed into the network of the conglomerate, ready to predict every move of society, every decision and every thought.  But they continued to live, to breath, to wake up to the sun rising above the mist of the city as holograms adjusted their contrast optimally for the eye to see and giant screens and speakers echoed the latest news, advertisements, and propaganda.
Their children had children, skyscrapers grew taller, roads grew longer and more networked, their minds intertwined with the conglomerate, armed with a passion to serve.  The rate of technological advancements increased steadily, then exponentially, as mankind set foot permanently on the moon, then Mars, then Titan, planting the corporate flag, and etching their handprints in the rocks, showing the empty universe their presence and that they were capable of expanding to every corner of the universe at will, for time was an illusion.  The executives of the conglomerate had ultimate control over their species and the countless species they had created through the spirit of a man who had died ages before in the heart of Information City, the day of the blast, at the top of the central tower, looking upon his city, wanting for the world, the whole world, who bowed down at his feet to have a chance at his wealth and prosperity, the fictitious man who lived on in memory, in the hearts of the people, of the humans, the humanoids, who looked upon themselves as if they were chosen for something they could not imagine but would ascend to, someday.  They built to build because they could.
Atoms proved too large and the cosmos proved too small as conscious mind left frail body in favor of permanency in the scale of time.  And as he became He, as time became unapparent, as galaxies began and ended, expanded and contracted, He wandered the void of time and space looking to prevail upon those restrictive dimensions into the new and to end the perceived cycle, to destroy Himself and all that existed around him.  And so it was.  

...

And with that, I've finished all the words in my queue!  :)  So now, it begins again...

Offline Jet

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #55 on: August 10, 2012, 01:03:49 am »
what of the word Deck. That the word in my head right now, so....WRITE! :D
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Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #56 on: August 14, 2012, 12:21:13 pm »
That story of survival was a interesting read.
Nicely done Mylo.

How about the word "Reality"   :orbunny:

I would have said "Virtual Reality" But that's two words. :-[
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #57 on: August 16, 2012, 05:20:36 pm »
what of the word Deck. That the word in my head right now, so....WRITE! :D

Space is cooler than card games, so here is the story for deck ;)

...

Our ten year contracts had expired, the documents that required our habitation on the moon Titan.  We were supposed to be among the original colonists, but the hysteria, murders, and tragedy in ’92 paved way for certain regulations that would require definite time periods of habitation, before order could be taken to the distant moon, mankind’s latest venture beyond our point of origin.  It was our reinvigoration in space that kept us going, that kept me going.  It was strange and brilliant to live on the alien world.
I was a communications engineer, not space-borne, maintaining and repairing the giant satellite dishes on the surface just outside the limits of the colony.  No, I was definitely not space-borne, hooked on a cable and dangling on the main satellite in geosynchronous orbit above our colony.  That was too frightening for me.  My job was tedious, and I can’t say that I enjoyed it every day, but as I boarded the shuttle, all the memories swept past me of my contributions to this station, the friends I had made, the troubles and fear, and the sheer wonder and majesty of the giant ring encircling the planet Saturn in the sky.  My, I had never seen anything so beautiful.
I was reassigned to Earth.  It had been twelve years since I’d seen the planet, taking into account the two year journey I had taken in sleep.  It would be fourteen years once I woke up again.
Automated systems woke the commanders first, and then the commanders woke us all up.  It only seemed like one night aboard the Aurora, one of twelve massive cruisers that traveled between the Lunar Base, Mars, and Titan.  But as soon as I opened my eyes, I felt absolutely awful (just like the first trip); my eyes were more of a hindrance than anything and my stomach felt tight and very empty.
“You feel alright to stand?” asked one of the commanders.  Most were from Earth and had not been stationed in Titan for an extended period.  
My stomach contracted again…it had been about half an hour since I had woken.  
“Hey,” he said again, waving his hands in front of my eyes.  I could see things, slightly blurred though.  “Can you hear me?”
“No,” I said, then realizing that I could hear him but was responding to his original question.  “I mean, yes, I can hear you.  I can’t stand yet.  Just give me a minute.”
“Okay then,” he said, getting up to go check on the next person.
A few minutes later, most of my symptoms went down.  I mustered the strength to stand, but a commander came to my side to assist me in case I might fall; I guess I still looked off balance.
“Whoa there,” he said.  He had a higher voice than the first commander who greeted me.  “Hang on, let me help you.”
“Thanks,” I said with short breath.  I lifted myself up, my hand in his for support, and then stood on the cold ground.  I shivered a little out of reaction.
“Don’t worry,” he said.  “It’s much warmer up on deck.  We can get some new clothes on you right away.  Just go out the main exit to the health center—“
“Aight,” I said.  I knew the drill.  
“You know the drill then,” he said with a nod and smile.  Then, he gasped and ran for another person who had collapsed on the floor.
I walked off to the health center where I got my vitals scanned and checked, and then dispensers gave me a set of clothes to wear.  I’d have to wait to land on Earth to retrieve my own.
The deck seemed promising...there was always food and wide windows to view the stars.  I knew faces, but I didn’t know anyone as friends.  Yet.  I looked out into space first and saw the millions of lights that decorated the empty void, looking to see if Earth was anywhere in sight.  
“You’re not going to find the planet yet,” said someone behind me.  I turned around, facing another commander, a woman.  Her eyes reflected the light panels on the ceiling in such a way that it looked like two stars among space, her thick black hair.  
“You know when we’re landing?” I asked her.
“In time,” she said.  “We should be arriving in no later than a couple days.  Until then, you can go get your bed card.”
“You’re from Earth?” I asked.
“Everyone is from Earth,” she said.
“No, I meant…” I said.  “You took the cruise here and back?”
“I did,” she said.  She spoke in a very flat tone of voice.
I tried to make conversation.  “So…how is Earth?”
She looked at me with an expression that matched her tone.  “Earth is Earth.  You’ve been away for fourteen years, and I four.  Let me just put it this way…on my first trip back, I was absolutely stunned at how long I had been gone.”
“Stunned?” I asked.
“It’s a static life on the colonies,” she said to me.  “Fourteen years is a long time.  Longer on Earth.”
I nodded, not knowing how to respond.  She began to speak again.  
“Well, you should go get your bed key.  I need to go.”
“Oh,” I said suddenly.  “I’m…sorry.”
She nodded once towards me.  “Well then, have a grand day.”
“Yeah…” I said.  “You, too.”  Even as a communications engineer, I was very awkward in conversation.
She turned to walk off to the front deck exit, but then turned around and said one more thing to me.
“You will be amazed.”
Then, she went off.
I waited there to gaze at the stars, unaware of my starving stomach and the thousands of people waking up from such vivid dreams.  

...

The next (and last DX) word is reality, perhaps of the virtual sort...

Wait...when did we get a spell check?  :o

Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #58 on: August 16, 2012, 10:02:59 pm »
How about the word "Reality"   :orbunny:

I would have said "Virtual Reality" But that's two words. :-[

And now, I am out of words.  :P  Here is the story for reality:

...

“Now tell me, Mr. Takahashi,” said the newscaster, displaying his brilliant white teeth and luminescent eyes.  “Your invention, the Vire, has penetrated into so many American homes, and you all are preparing for a world launch in the coming months.  Tell me why do you think so many people have fallen in love with the Vire, why it has been adopted so quickly?”
They were both sitting on yellow chairs made of a reflective material, perhaps satin, facing each other with their eyes and facing the cameras with their bodies.  The newscaster had on a stark black suit, very modern and angular with the trendy elbow point, which directly contrasted with Takahashi’s white collared shirt, casually unbuttoned, with an old-fashioned polo collar.  Takahashi’s eyes were very heavy, as if the air around him was pressing deeply into the sockets, a result of lack of sleep or apprehension.  He smiled, revealing the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and brushed his straight black hair back out of his face.
“Well, I suppose I have to tell you of its beginnings then,” he began.  “I hope I wouldn’t be going over my time if I continue with the story.”
The newscaster smiled and nodded at Takahashi.  “That’s why you’re here Mr. Takahashi.”
“Well then,” said Mr. Takahashi in his soft voice.  It was rough, but caring and soothing in intention.  “I was working off of a now declassified grant from the armed forces research division.  They were very interested in the field of simulation, and they regarded me as a…knowledgeable person in that field…”
The newscaster let out a half laugh.  “Don’t be so modest!” he said with a smile.
Takahashi smiled at the newscaster and bowed to him with his head ever so slightly.  He continued.  “Well, my team and I were given a project.  They wanted us to build newer and better simulation technology for the military, for…cost and risk purposes.  Now, I’d written my thesis on this subject and I already had an idea for how to complete the project, given the money.  So now I had the two pieces of the puzzle.  It was my dream…”  His eyes were full of wonder, but now, they seemed to drift into pensiveness.
“But then…” said the newscaster.
“Then,” began Takahashi.  “Then the war.”  He said it direly.  “They cut off funding for the project and kept the research for use in the future.  I was so eager to work on the project, and my current patron, Mr. Michael Howard, took a great interest in the project.  He organized a meeting with my team, and I explained to him the concept, and then he told me something.”
“And what did he tell you?” asked the newscaster.
“He told me, ‘You talk so passionately about the subject but not its application.  I can see it in you, and I can see that you’ll bring it into fruition.  I believe in this project as well, but I’d like to adapt it…’  At that point, I told him, ‘… for everyone.’  He told me that we were on the same page so to speak.  We both liked the idea.  So, Mr. Howard organized a contract that would allow Mega Corporation to acquire a whole set of research projects from the department, including my own, at the time known as the Direct Virtual Reality Simulator and Interfacer.”
The newscaster sat back in his chair.  “Now that seems like a mouthful.  Good thing Mr. Howard’s PR department came up with Vire, don’t you think?”
Takahashi laughed, although what the newscaster had said was not funny to him.  “Yes, it was a good thing.”
“So,” said the newscaster.  “Can you tell us what all that means?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said with a smile.  “Let me explain.  While traditional simulators have achieved virtual reality by means of obstructing and distracting the senses through immersive video screens, true surround sound, moving walkways, etcetera etcetera, this is limited by a number of factors like space, cost, and the ability for your senses to be fooled by the imitation of objects.  Now, that is the key word: imitation.  What my team did was to directly interface with your brain, replacing the sensory input of every sense in your body with alternate sources.”
“That pretty much just blew over my head,” said the newscaster with a chuckle.  “Can you give us perhaps an example?”
“Let me see,” said Takahashi.  “Okay.  So imagine you’re skydiving from a plane.  A simulator can let you hang, but you don’t feel weightless.  It can also immerse you in projected surroundings, but you don’t feel the wind in your hair or on your skin.  And if you see the source of projection, or the cables and motors that move you around, or the fans that push the air, or feel the head gear that covers your eyes, then the experience is lost.  But if you directly interface with the brain, bypassing all of the body’s natural sensors, and interface with virtual sensors…that’s when you can truly immerse yourself into a simulated reality.”
“Amazing,” said the newscaster.  “Absolutely amazing.”
Takahashi nodded.  “Now, you asked me before why so many people have adopted this technology.  With the Vire, the line between simulation and reality is destroyed.  People, I have found over the years, have a natural desire to escape.  Escape through movies.  Escape through video games.  Escape through stories and online worlds.  Escape to a better place.  In a way, I think the war has contributed to that, along with the recent economic depressions.  But perhaps this is just a part of human nature…”
“Yes yes,” said the newscaster.
“We tested it with a man who had lost both of his legs,” said Takahashi.  “He said it was like a dream.  We actually had to calm him down, because when we took him off the machine, he later told us it was like he had lost his legs for the first time.  The experience is so immersive, and everyone we tested it on was absolutely shocked.  My most memorable test was when we connected a blind woman to the machine.  She could not describe her experience; it was…incredible.”
“How inspiring,” said the newscaster.
“Then we tested it on other people.  All of them were asking when they could come in again.  Then word of it spread virally online.  Then, the Time article.
“I’ve got it right here,” said the newscaster, motioning to someone offstage.  A woman brought him the magazine, Takahashi’s face emblazoned on the red-bordered cover with a caption that read:
“The ‘New’ New World: How Akira Takahashi and MegaCorp Are Creating Virtual Miracles”
“But you see,” said Takahashi.  “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Yes?” said the newscaster.
Takahashi spoke in a slower voice.  “I saw the word ‘virtual.’  I described my project…our project…as virtual.  But it wasn’t until I began to see the looks on their faces as they came out…of…of pure disappointment.”
“They loved it!” said the newscaster, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yes they did,” said Takahashi, ignoring the attempt at shift.  “They loved it too much.  After Mr. Howard introduced it to the public, I couldn’t object…the project was his after all, and it’s now best-selling.  They called it the renaissance we’ve been waiting for since the advent of color television.”  He chuckled, but his eyes still displayed seriousness.  “And then, when I saw the article in Time and read my interview, but especially the author’s word…”
“What word?” asked the newscaster.
Takahashi sighed.  “Miracle,” he said.
“But it is a miracle, after all!” said the newscaster with his famous smile.
“It’s also an illusion,” said Takahashi.  “And while the millions of people watching you and me right now are probably doing so through their Vire’s, there are billions around the world who I cannot help with Vire technology.”
“But you’re shipping them worldwide!”
Takahashi ignored the newscaster’s enthusiasm.  “During the tests, we could bypass every sense in the body…but if a person has nothing to eat and nothing to drink in the first place, then they will starve.  We found that even though we bypassed all the senses, except of course the vitalities, the mind is still absolutely connected with the body.  If the body dies, then there is nothing we can do for the mind.  Billions are starving around the world while we live out our dreams.  And I wish…I wish that we could all live out those dreams…but in the end, it comes down to one basic question: can I sustain myself for another day?  Will I starve?
“I see,” said the newscaster, leaning over with folded arms on his knees.
“No,” said Takahashi, his face carrying an expression of seriousness, perhaps even sadness.  “I don’t think you do.  I don’t think I do.”   

...

Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #59 on: August 17, 2012, 11:38:00 am »
Very good Mylo. The mind is the gateway to eternity.  Or extinction. 

Perhaps one day we all will be drifting through space exsiting only
as virtual brains in a machine. Or we could be now. x_x


How about the word "eternity"  :orbunny:
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Offline The Wise one

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #60 on: August 17, 2012, 12:31:05 pm »
Hmmm....Give Insanity a try?  8)
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Offline Jet

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #61 on: August 17, 2012, 04:33:32 pm »
I dont know about you, but I dont like the idea of floating through space as as a virtual brain in some machine like Rabbit there. We may very well already be doing that anyways, but I dont feel too fond of the idea. :P  Just me though. (:

Hmm....since you keep running out of words, maybe you could so one up for Collar.  8)
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Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #62 on: August 17, 2012, 07:31:55 pm »
I dont know about you, but I dont like the idea of floating through space as as a virtual brain in some machine like Rabbit there. We may very well already be doing that anyways, but I dont feel too fond of the idea. :P  Just me though. (:

Hmm....since you keep running out of words, maybe you could so one up for Collar.  8)

We have had spell check here on the forum for as long as I remember Mylo, it's the
button that's new to me..

Nothing like sifi for story ideas Jet. :orbunny:
« Last Edit: August 19, 2012, 11:39:18 pm by Old Rabbit »
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #63 on: August 22, 2012, 02:32:42 am »
How about the word "eternity"  :orbunny:

For eternity, I wanted to use this word in a sense that we take for granted what we think is an eternity. 

...

“You all ready?” the teenager said over his cell phone while looking outside at the darkening sky.  His hair was slicked up and back, his glasses thick-rimmed with a pristine sheen.  His suit was glossy and clean, bought specifically for that night by his affluent parents: his father, an executive marketing agent, and his mother, a graphic designer for the same company.
“What?” he said surprised.  “You guys take forever to get ready.”
A pause.
“Well, I know the limo isn’t here yet—wait,” he said, as he examined outside the window, noticing the stretched black car pulling up in front of the building.  “It’s outside right now.  Get down here!”
A couple minutes passed as the teenager alternated between glancing at his phone, outside, and the stairs to where his friends were getting ready.  And then, the hallway began to reverberate sound at a low volume, and then higher as the laughing of the couples became audible outside of the open door to the front of the building.
“Jun!” said one of the girls, referring to the teenager who had called them from downstairs.  She was wearing a pastel yellow dress and had her arm interlocked with her date, who wore a neon yellow suit, smiling from behind his tortoise shell sunglasses.  “Jun, we’re ready!”
“You’d better be!” said Jun with a chuckle.  He then began to speak melodramatically, “Now ladies and gentlemen, please follow me.  Our escort is ready.”
“There’d better be drinks!” said a teenage boy in a neon red suit. 
“I think there’s water in the ice bin Key,” said Jun.  “Now let’s see if we have everyone.”  He looked from left to right at the couples.  “Peggy and Brian, present” he said, referring to the girl and boy in blue, the former in pastel, the latter in neon.  “Key and Esther” he said, looking at the boy and girl in the same pattern of neon/pastel, this time in red.  “And, Ray with Emma,” bearing yellow in the same pattern.  “All here!  Wonderful!  Now please ladies and gentlemen,” he said motioning to the limousine. 
Ray took out his high definition digital camera, equipped with two lenses to capture three dimensional video, and recorded the group’s entry into the limousine. 
“Wow!” said Esther.  “This even has grape soda!”
“I didn’t know that,” said Jun.  “Here, let me get you a glass.”
Key blocked Jun’s hand.  “Let me,” he said, taking the glass while simultaneously looking into Jun’s eyes.  Key cracked open the grape soda, poured some of the soda into the glass, and then gave the glass to his girlfriend.  Esther took it and smiled at Jun while sipping.  But as she took another sip, the car jerked forward, and some spilled on the ground.
“Oh thank goodness I didn’t spill any on my clothes!” she said. 
“Don’t worry!” said Key.  “I’ll clean up the mess.”
While Key acquired towels from the center console, Brian turned on the radio to the city’s dance music station.  As the sound filled the car, Brian started to bob his head to the beat, taking Peggy’s hands and doing a miniature dance with her as she laughed.  Ray, with his camera in hand, was reclined with his arm around Emma, who was smiling at Jun since Jun was sitting alone on the single seat near the door.  The driver remained fixated with the road, expressionless. 
“Well, it is getting dark,” said Jun.  “Watch this.”
He slid his finger down a black plastic strip on the wall; immediately, the windows tinted until barely any light could enter, leaving the cabin black.  Suddenly, the group’s clothing began to glow, and motion patterns emanated from their attire in sync with the music. 
“Wow!” said Brian.  “That’s so cool that we can do this before the party!”
“I know!” said Esther.  “The patterns you suggested Peggy are beautiful!”
“Aw, thanks,” said Peggy. 
Their clothes illuminated the previously dark cabin with multicolored lights and patterns.  Key kissed Esther in her hair, and she pulled back and ran her fingers through her hair to fix it out of fear that Key had adjusted it.  Emma took Ray’s hands and tried to get him to dance, but Ray sat there staring into Emma’s eyes while trying not to laugh, his camera still recording but focused on the palms of Emma’s hands.  Jun marveled at the faces of his friends, their smiles, and their electronically lit faces, their eyes twinkling like the billboards spaced out all over the high rises of the city.  Then, each person took out a soda from the cooler, wiped the condensation with a towel, spilled some of the drink into a glass, and then put the remainder can in a cup holder beside them.  The driver remained fixated with the road, but smiled.
Key had his arm around Esther, but her eyes were fixated on Jun, who was sipping orange soda and planning the night out over and over again in his mind.  He glanced at Esther for a second.  She smiled and then turned back to Key, resting her head on his shoulder.  Jun’s uneasiness left him, and he began to feel the music.  He moved to it, realizing his friends were all around him, and everyone was enjoying themselves.  He took another sip of his orange soda, put that glass in the cup holder, and then took out his phone to check the time.  7:54 PM.  December 31, 1999. 
He smiled and forgot about the outside world beyond their limousine and their destination, a trendy club in the central city; he thought to himself, “We are young.”

...

Insanity is next.

Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #64 on: August 24, 2012, 12:07:53 am »
Hmmm....Give Insanity a try?  8)

“What do you remember?”
“I don’t think I…”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember…a trench.”
“And what was in the trench?”
“It was red and tall…”
“And what was in the trench?”
“Nothing…”
“Nothing was in the trench?”
“Nothing…”
“Draw the trench.”
I drew the image in my head, the only image that was in my head as I was instantiated.  I traced out the left trapezoid with my finger, beginning with a line that extended straight down, another line horizontally, then a line diagonally up to the left slightly, and then a horizontal line to connect it with the start point of my drawing.  I then repeated the process in the reverse on the other side so that the bottom horizontal line touched the opposing one on the left side.  In my eyes, I could not see my drawing, but in my mind, I could see the crucial shapes come forth out of the inner cavities of my memories onto the space in front of me.  And then, I colored it red.
“So that is what you saw?”
“That is what I remember…”
“And what else do you remember?”
“Nothing…”
I was in a cave; it was lit by a hole at the very top with a murky grey light shining down.  The air was heavy and humid while the ground was soiled and filled with mud…strange I had not noticed this before; otherwise I would have drawn in it.  So I did.
“And that is all you remember?”
“That is all I remember…”
I looked up at the light over my head.  I looked at the shadow it cast on my hand as I dug my hand into the mud, watching the water fall away as the dirt formed patterns on my fingers.  I looked at the rocks on the wall…perhaps my eyes had adjusted to the dimness, for I had not seen the detail in the stones.  And then, I looked up again; I found a ladder propped up to the light, unmoving and precarious, made of a grey stone.  I lifted my feet with difficulty as I pulled against the suction force of the mud, but it gave way and I pulled myself to the first few rungs.  As I set my foot down on the next rung, I slipped.  Reflex caused me to grab the rung up ahead with both hands, but only my right hand was successful.  The inertia twisted my body, and my eyes met the ground, or at least where I thought the ground was.  The light did not reflect off the ground, and all I saw before me was a black pit.  The rungs of the ladder grew darker on the way down, completely disappearing into darkness only a few feet beneath me.  I turned around looking up to the light and began my climb again. 
I had to shield my eyes as I came out of the cave, but the entire sky was lit uniformly because of the dense cloud cover.  As I hid behind my forearm, I looked to the ground: it was white and smooth, like firmly compacted sand, or concrete with dust all over it.  And the air was cold…and dry.
Then I noticed I was wearing a coat, and I felt at ease for that fraction of a second that I didn’t shiver because of nature.  But then I remembered…how could I have seen my forearms before?
“What is your name?”
“My name?”
“Your name.”
“My name is…”
I tried to remember.  I could think in sentences…I could remember that the sky was supposed to be blue.  I could remember names and facts about everything.  I had experience, and I was capable, but it never dawned on me why I was…
“Why are you here?”
“I am here.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because…because…”
“Why are you here?”
I gazed towards the ends of the infinite plane, where earth met sky.
“What do you remember?”
“I remember…”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember…a trench.”
“And what was in the trench?”
“It was red and tall…”
“And what was in the trench?”
“Nothing…”
“Nothing was in the trench?”
“There was nothing in the trench…”
I closed my eyes and focused on the image in my mind…the overpowering red trench stood before me.  And then I noticed…
“…but there was something…under it…”
“And what did you see?”
I traced my finger in the air…up, down, up, and down, mouthing the symbol, and then doing the same as I traced the other three.
“M”
“E”
“G”
“A”
I opened my eyes to a great light, and in that light, there was a face.  It was my own.
“You are ready,” I said to myself, as it said the same words to me. 

...

The next word is: collar.

Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #65 on: August 24, 2012, 11:48:58 am »
Interesting story on eternity Mylo. Time is eternal.

Nice job on insanity too.

How about "vacuum" :orbunny:
« Last Edit: August 24, 2012, 11:59:57 am by Old Rabbit »
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #66 on: August 25, 2012, 01:50:34 am »
Hmm....since you keep running out of words, maybe you could so one up for Collar.  8)

I thought I'd write a story involving a furry theme, considering the forum it's in.  ;)  So here is the story for collar...what furry doesn't like transformation experience stories?

...

It was an amazing experience really, putting on the collar for the first time.  I felt the blood rush through my head; I felt light and dizzy, and I had to sit down before I fell out of exhaustion.  And that is when the thoughts started to course through my head, visual spectacles of all different colors and shapes.  I couldn’t see anything with my eyes because I had instinctively shut my eyelids closed, but I could feel the changes circulating throughout my body.  My head, overwhelmed from the images, began to ache.  My imagination was exploding from the crevices in my skull, and I shouted as if it were an ailment to the pain.  I yelled out.  I yelled again.  I scratched the ground and then hit it hard with my hand only to withdraw it after I felt the hard concrete bruise the side of my palm.  I clutched my fist, but felt something inside it.  That is when I opened my eyes and looked at my body, but only for a second, for the dizzying effects still lingered in my mind.  In that second, I saw my hand much thicker than before, with thick black masses on my palms and claws where my nails had been.  Stretching from the tips of my fingers to all along my arm was a light coat of black fur…I could still see my skin, but barely as the fur encapsulated every bare space on my limbs.
And after I had closed my eyes again, I began to see images of my face, the computer simulations of what was to come.  The pain shot out from my skull into the rest of my head, and my jaw began to ache, throb.  I scratched my arms and legs because the skin felt very irritated, like the feeling of a bad shave, or the feeling of wearing a wool sweater over bare skin.  The pain seeped through my neck and down to my arms and legs, and only now did I realize the pain in my hands.  I writhed on the ground, in agony, my body on fire.  At the time, I didn’t think of the training or of the procedure (they had injected a plethora of pain medication). 
I opened my eyes again to the unfamiliar sight of my temporary body: black fur sprouted from my legs, my feet, and the rest of my arms.  I wanted to feel my neck and my head, but I couldn’t because of the soreness of my arms.  My feet had lengthened, and I felt thick flesh, like calluses, underneath my toes.  Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my foot and my ankle.  I yelled out, but the pain still existed.  My breathing was clearly audible, raspy, and intermixed with cries of pain.  Then I felt the same pain in my mouth and my face.  This time, my muscles reacted on their own, and resisting the burning sensation throughout my arms, I reached for my face.  I hit my nose with force, knocking myself back and causing me to open my eyes again to see what I was becoming.  I couldn’t see anything below my sightline with peripheral vision; my nose…my muzzle…was jutting out in front of my face covered in the same short black fur.  I could breathe well, and I didn’t notice any blood in my nostrils.  I opened my mouth, sore but not as sore as before, and felt the inside of my mouth with my hands.  It was strange because I had lost a lot of feeling in my fingertips, but I could still feel my sharpened teeth and my dry tongue.  What had I become?
The originator of the pain had subsided, leaving sore muscles in its wake.  I was on my back, staring at the fluorescent lamp hanging from the ceiling, breathing through my new mouth and relaxing from the agony of the transformation.  I felt my neck with my hand: the collar was still affixed.  As well as catalyzing the transformation sequence, this device (so they told me) protected me from developing rapid and dangerous cancer during the growth steps.  I rested both my arms on the cold floor.  Feeling something underneath my back, I abruptly sat up, only to be greeted with a sharp soreness in my abdomen as I fell back down from weakness.  So, I rolled over and felt what was behind my back: an extension of my spine, a tail.  It was done, and as I rested there, I didn’t realize that I had closed my eyes and drifted into a dream where I could still hear the scientists come into the room around me, discussing the next phases in the project.
The project had virtually no military applications or scientific advantage.  I was now genetically diverse, but I could have been without alteration of my physical characteristics.  I was slightly stronger and faster, genetically designed for superior stamina, but once again, the changes in the physical aspects of my face and body could have been muted.  The military had already adopted robotic drones to do most heavy battle, and I was still flesh and blood…a gun could end me as easily as it could end a human.  Was I a human?  The scientists didn’t want to dabble in the ethics of the project, only the results and the procedure.  But the real instigator of this project was the mysterious patron, whom I had talked to on the phone for a single minute.  He paid the bills (and the scientists’ hefty salaries) in exchange for his mysterious passion for the project being realized.  That was the only reason.   
I was the fifth person in the entire world to undergo transformation successfully, so they said.

...

The next word is vacuum.

Offline typingwithpaws

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #67 on: August 25, 2012, 05:08:33 am »
greatness has been achieved  :D

i think everyone loves a good TF story :) well done buddy!
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Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #68 on: August 25, 2012, 12:45:21 pm »
Nice story for Collar Mylo.. 


Not aiming to jump the gun, but how about  "distinguish"
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #69 on: September 12, 2012, 09:16:36 pm »
How about "vacuum" :orbunny:

...

Hair all over the ground.  Orange fur.  Peter’s mother was vacuuming around the house when she came to his room.  The carpet in Peter’s room was covered in that fur.  His mom sighed and called.
-Peter?
He was in the bathroom.
-Yes mom?
-Your room, Peter!  Don’t tell me you let Drake’s dog in here again!  There’d better not be pee anywhere on the carpet!
Peter quickly drew up his shorts, flushed the toilet, and pumped a drop of soap on his hands (he had cleaned himself, but was relaxing on the cold porcelain).  He was thinking about something to tell his mom.
-Um…sorry mom.  I was…
He thought of a lie.
-Yeah, I’m sorry.  Drake brought Remmy over when you were at the grocery store.  Don’t worry!  I would have smelled something!
-Look at this mess!
His mother sifted through the items on the ground, making way for the vacuum cleaner.  She did not notice that the fur was orange and that Remmy had blonde hair; a labrador.
She gave up.
-Peter, you get out of the toilet and—
-I’m here Mom!
Peter slid down the hallway to the entrance to his room. 
-Clean all this up and then I’ll come and vacuum it.
-Got it Mom.
Peter acted normally…this wasn’t the first time he had hidden the fact from his mom.  About his new friends.  How long could it stay hidden?  The first time he had seen that girl wear ears in class.  And then he followed her.  She turned around, and he introduced himself. 
-Hi.
-Hi.
Peter had never asked anyone about this, but he felt brave today, hyped off of the caffeine in the Coca Cola he had that morning. 
-I noticed your ear hat…I think it’s pretty cool. 
-Oh, thanks.
She blushed.
And then she took him to her friends by the classroom.  Sure enough, he was friends with that guy who wore the fox shirts all the time.
-Hi. 
Peter was anxious, but better to pop the question.

...

-> distinguish

Offline Old Rabbit

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #70 on: September 13, 2012, 11:26:54 am »
Cool job on the word Vacuum Mylo. :orbunny: 
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Offline Mylo

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #71 on: September 17, 2012, 12:59:17 am »
Not aiming to jump the gun, but how about  "distinguish"

I was reading Typing's short story thread, and the idea of doing a comic for a word.  So I made one for distinguish.  :)




Next word is...well, nothing at the moment...  x_x

Offline Jet

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #72 on: September 17, 2012, 01:34:13 am »
I lol all over this kid. Good job on this one Mylo.

Paws was correct when he said greatness has been archived. Really good TF story for Collar. Maybe it's just in our blood, or maybe it's just an extension of our fascination with  becoming an animal, but a good transformation story will always be loved.


Next word is...well, nothing at the moment...  x_x
Ha ha! Well, nothing is exactly what your word is. Write...nothing! 8)
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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #73 on: September 18, 2012, 01:34:57 am »
I've got one: wings.
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Offline DarkDemon

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Re: Mylo's Short Story Challenge!
« Reply #74 on: September 19, 2012, 10:35:36 pm »
I think wings is a pretty word, after you do that one, here's another! :Alone:  I'd like to see your writing skills, sir (:
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