Harriet's calves burned as she plodded up the dune. Why the hell was she here? Even on paper Tycos looked inhospitable. Absolutely freezing at the poles, made of nothing but rock and sand in the so-called temperate zones--it was a wonder anything at all could live on this god-forsaken planet. But no, she just had to jump at the first extraterrestrial opportunity that came along.
A momentary lapse of concentration and Harriet's foot slipped out from underneath her. She swore. Damn dunes. They got increasingly unstable the more tired you were just to spite you. Jerome might laugh, but she knew they did.
Reaching the top, she at last caught sight of the base. Harriet half-ran, half-skidded down the slope, an avalanche of sand following her. At the bottom she looked back at the trail she'd carved in the dune, knowing she'd get teased for her inelegance if anyone had been watching. Oh well. At least she no longer somersaulted down the things.
The base sat in an ancient, dried-up lake bed, its small metal pods connected by enclosed walkways clustering around their ship. As she trekked closer, Harriet could see that sanddrifts were already forming on the wind-ward sides of the pods. Someone would have to clear that soon, or they'd be completely buried during the next storm.
Harriet sighed. Just another perk of being stationed on Tycos.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
What She Missed the Most
She missed waking up next to him the most. Cocooned in a warm pocket under the duvet, limbs tangled, drool on the pillow. They'd occupied that in-between place, where you're left with only fleeting images of dreams but have yet to remember the plates in the sink or the report due at work. It was that small space of time she missed, the moments before he had rolled over and whispered, "Fancy a quick one?" in her ear, or rolled the other way and got out of bed to slip on his jeans, or she threw back the covers to let the shock of cold air wake her.
It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed the quickies, the way she felt hurrying into the office a little late, a smile tugging at her lips. The comfortable silence as she watched him dress, shooting a smile over his shoulder as he walked out the door, well, she had liked that, too. Even his protests on those mornings she had shucked the duvet were familiar, and therefore missed.
She didn't know why she missed the waking up the most, although she imagined it had something to do with that pang she felt each morning when she moved her arm and found the other side of the bed was empty.
***
Sometimes you just have to write something clichéd.
It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed the quickies, the way she felt hurrying into the office a little late, a smile tugging at her lips. The comfortable silence as she watched him dress, shooting a smile over his shoulder as he walked out the door, well, she had liked that, too. Even his protests on those mornings she had shucked the duvet were familiar, and therefore missed.
She didn't know why she missed the waking up the most, although she imagined it had something to do with that pang she felt each morning when she moved her arm and found the other side of the bed was empty.
***
Sometimes you just have to write something clichéd.
Waiting Room
Continued from previous post.
***
It was like those numbers taken by people waiting to be served at the the local butcher's. Ben had one too, he realized. He opened his fist and examined the crinkled paper. Had he always had it?
The number on the ticket was really long. The numerals were small, and they seemed to be flickering. That was strange. Squinting, Ben brought it closer to his face and realized they were wriggling around, switching places. They refused to stay in one place and be read.
"You won't be able to read it." The boy sat across from him, flipping through a sports magazine without looking up. "I haven't figured out mine yet."
"I don't understand--do you know why we're here?"
The old woman next to Ben started snoring softly; her head nodded onto his shoulder.
The kid shrugged and turned a page. "Nope. Doesn't matter."
"Where are your parents?"
"Dunno."
"Don't you care?"
He shrugged again. "They're around here somewhere."
Ben ran his hand through his hair and sighed--
And woke up. He propped himself up on an elbow and blinked in the morning light.
"Weird." Ben dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, wondering if he had any toffees. Maybe if he met the old woman again she'd offer him one.
He paused in the middle of measuring out his ground coffee. Not that he'd meet her again, because that had just been a dream. Ben shook his head and laughed softly to himself.
***
I'm bored with this already... Writing ADD?
***
It was like those numbers taken by people waiting to be served at the the local butcher's. Ben had one too, he realized. He opened his fist and examined the crinkled paper. Had he always had it?
The number on the ticket was really long. The numerals were small, and they seemed to be flickering. That was strange. Squinting, Ben brought it closer to his face and realized they were wriggling around, switching places. They refused to stay in one place and be read.
"You won't be able to read it." The boy sat across from him, flipping through a sports magazine without looking up. "I haven't figured out mine yet."
"I don't understand--do you know why we're here?"
The old woman next to Ben started snoring softly; her head nodded onto his shoulder.
The kid shrugged and turned a page. "Nope. Doesn't matter."
"Where are your parents?"
"Dunno."
"Don't you care?"
He shrugged again. "They're around here somewhere."
Ben ran his hand through his hair and sighed--
And woke up. He propped himself up on an elbow and blinked in the morning light.
"Weird." Ben dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, wondering if he had any toffees. Maybe if he met the old woman again she'd offer him one.
He paused in the middle of measuring out his ground coffee. Not that he'd meet her again, because that had just been a dream. Ben shook his head and laughed softly to himself.
***
I'm bored with this already... Writing ADD?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
2010
Oh, look, a new year!
I finished my creative writing class, obviously. In the end my revisions for the portfolio went well, despite my stressing. I'm still not quite happy with the story and the poem, but my professor liked them, so I suppose that suffices.
(She suggested I submit the poem to journals for publication, which was a bit of a shock. I don't think it's up to that, but I may do so anyway--never too early to start racking up rejection slips. ^_^)
I've joined meri in a new years resolution, to post at least 200 words at least 4 times a week to a thread in Locution. Mine is here, and meri's is here. I think I'll co-post here, just to keep things in one place...
***
Ben found himself in a waiting room suddenly, in that strange, scene-hopping way that dreams change. One minute he was fishing with his dad in a lake of lava and the next he was sitting in a plastic chair under fluorescent lights.
"Would you like a toffee, young man?"
Ben stared down at the candy in confusion. It shook in the old woman's hands, the red wrapper bright against her skin, and she smiled at him.
"Um, no thanks."
"Ah well, suit yourself." She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, sucking noisily. "I shouldn't, really, but if you can't indulge when you're old, when can you?"
"Yeah..." The lake was fading, and then it was gone. Ben couldn't remember how he got here, or what he was waiting for. He said so to the old woman.
"Oh, don't you worry about that, dearie. I expect someone will be along in a bit to sort it all out." She patted his knee twice and settled back into her seat.
"Wait, don't you know why you're here?" Ben asked.
She frowned, puzzled. "Now that you mention it, no. My memory must not be what it used to be. Maybe I wrote it down." She patted her trouser's pocket and drew out a slip of paper. "Oh, look, my number. Perhaps they'll call it soon."
It was like those numbers taken by people waiting to be served at the the local butcher's.
***
It's a story idea I came up with over Christmas break, while vacationing in the swamp. I'll see where it goes~
I finished my creative writing class, obviously. In the end my revisions for the portfolio went well, despite my stressing. I'm still not quite happy with the story and the poem, but my professor liked them, so I suppose that suffices.
(She suggested I submit the poem to journals for publication, which was a bit of a shock. I don't think it's up to that, but I may do so anyway--never too early to start racking up rejection slips. ^_^)
I've joined meri in a new years resolution, to post at least 200 words at least 4 times a week to a thread in Locution. Mine is here, and meri's is here. I think I'll co-post here, just to keep things in one place...
***
Ben found himself in a waiting room suddenly, in that strange, scene-hopping way that dreams change. One minute he was fishing with his dad in a lake of lava and the next he was sitting in a plastic chair under fluorescent lights.
"Would you like a toffee, young man?"
Ben stared down at the candy in confusion. It shook in the old woman's hands, the red wrapper bright against her skin, and she smiled at him.
"Um, no thanks."
"Ah well, suit yourself." She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, sucking noisily. "I shouldn't, really, but if you can't indulge when you're old, when can you?"
"Yeah..." The lake was fading, and then it was gone. Ben couldn't remember how he got here, or what he was waiting for. He said so to the old woman.
"Oh, don't you worry about that, dearie. I expect someone will be along in a bit to sort it all out." She patted his knee twice and settled back into her seat.
"Wait, don't you know why you're here?" Ben asked.
She frowned, puzzled. "Now that you mention it, no. My memory must not be what it used to be. Maybe I wrote it down." She patted her trouser's pocket and drew out a slip of paper. "Oh, look, my number. Perhaps they'll call it soon."
It was like those numbers taken by people waiting to be served at the the local butcher's.
***
It's a story idea I came up with over Christmas break, while vacationing in the swamp. I'll see where it goes~
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