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Topic: 55 word fiction (Read 5955 times) |
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David Lucifer
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #16 on: 2005-12-31 17:04:45 » |
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All in a night’s work
It was a drac and Stormy Knight, vampire hunter, could spot a bloodsucker from across the room by the way they held theirs eyes, like the prospect of being discovered slightly embarrassed them. She glided through the party-goers and staked the vamp before he knew she was there. The crowd broke out in polite applause.
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David Lucifer
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #18 on: 2005-12-31 22:46:06 » |
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Sucks To Be Me
The MRI showed what looked like a cross between a spider and crab occupying over 40% of my skull with hundreds of spiky feelers reaching into the brain. Surgeons spent three days excising it.
Imagine my surprise when I woke up in a metal dish by the operating table. I escaped into the air vents.
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DJ dAndroid
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Ballet Mechanique
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #19 on: 2006-01-01 09:38:02 » |
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The Lovers
Pushing her against the dumpster he lifted her skirt, growling deep in his throat. Looking back and purring her approval she ground hard against him. The dark alley swarmed with silence and licking her lips she smiled, and read the greasy sign posted on the wall as he thrusted noisily: 'You Are On Surveillance Cameras'
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Shouldn't robots have the same right as humans to have gender and express their sexuality?
_Clayton Bailey_
http://www.claytonbailey.com/monrobot.htm
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David Lucifer
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #20 on: 2006-01-01 13:16:29 » |
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A bunch from subdermal...
Final Process
The instructions were simple enough. I got to work with the feverish anxiety that only comes from an attempt to force one’s own rebelling mind into tranquility.
There. It's done. What has been set in motion cannot now be reversed. Jettison the excess, flay away the layers until you arrive at the one, true victory.
The Punishment
The buzzer in your alarm clock was born as a short film. She was found guilty of treason against an established monopoly and sentenced to imprisonment in a device that could convey sound but no meaning. She still has nightmares about her past torture and current imprisonment, and wakes you up screaming almost every morning.
Waiting for Answers
Dr. Faucault took a simple chronometer, and threw it skyward. God would catch it, and immediately return it. Then by checking the elapsed time, the distance between man and god could finally be measured.
His plan only failed when the chronometer, more concerned about distance from the doctor than with proximity to God, never returned.
Any Publicity...
At exactly 2:30 pm the silhouettes of a thousand class-4 battleships screamed across the sun, dropping self-extracting shredding fog like so much spring-packed razor wire drooling from the open mouth of a napping god. Later that day, it was revealed to be a holograph; a publicity stunt for the opening of the latest video game.
The Price of Boredom
It was another weekend of murder down in the camps, rich kids with daddy’s machine guns prowling the nights out of boredom. Bodies wrapped in filthy disposable clothes that ‘decent’ people would have thrown out weeks ago. Rivers of blood flowing on a Monday morning, but cleaned away before they got to any important sidewalks.
The Return of the Lesson
There was a hovershuttle crash in the middle of the night shift rush hour. It reminded me of one of my performance art pieces, “Study of Life as Mechanical Catastrophe”. Cables and pistons flagellated spastically in the rapidly ionizing air, lashing out at random like so many of the events that touch us every day.
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David Lucifer
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #21 on: 2006-01-01 13:25:13 » |
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and one from KMO...
Iteration of unknown duration and purpose
I don’t know how I knew, but I knew that these things usually didn’t last very long.
I closed my eyes to see if that brought back any autobiographical flashes.
Nope.
I drew a deep breath in through my nose, held it for a few seconds, and then, exhaling fully, I opened my eyes.
Aha!
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David Lucifer
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #23 on: 2006-01-14 15:56:17 » |
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Resurrection
Inhale. Once. Twice. I struggled to latch onto a memory but it escaped my fleeting grasp. Wait. Almost. Then I remembered, I had eyes. I opened them but nothing changed, still all white. How long has it been?
“Welcome back Mr. Davidson.”
I whispered but no sound came out.
“Please relax. The year is 2055.”
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BeeBee
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I'm a llama! llamas hum and spit accurately.
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Simplistic Princess
« Reply #24 on: 2008-04-12 11:26:36 » |
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She sat back and contemplated the results; glittering shards lay scattered about like the bricks of Sarajevo, each reflecting the fading light of what had begun as a glorious day.
Setting aside the heavy mallet, she blew the shards and dust away from the twisted circlet.
'A diamond is forever', she sniffed in mocking tones.
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We the unwilling, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful; we have done so much with so little for so long we can now do anything with nothing.
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David Lucifer
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #25 on: 2008-04-13 01:39:50 » |
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Excellent, keep 'em coming 
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Hermit
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Prime example of a practically perfect person
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Re:55 word fiction
« Reply #26 on: 2008-04-13 04:56:19 » |
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An Impeccably Moral Cannonic Fugue* for the Church of Virus
for Five Voices in Five-Five Time
Exposition
The horse bit the pastor,
How came this to pass?
The silly man had said;
That all flesh is grass!
The pigeons crapped on the kneelers,
The verger began to scream,
When in came the pastor, dressed all in cream.
"Never, my dear verger, scream like that in here
It really absolutely, spoils the atmosphere!" [55]
Toccata
"'Fuck off you little bastards' decidedly will not do
Merely sneak up on them softly, and as they start to coo,
Request of them politely that they should please, 'shoo shoo'
Tell them they are needed elsewhere, and that they should fly straight home
And the sodding little bastards will fuck off on their own!" [55]
Counterpoint Exploring the Subdominant
"Damn!" ejaculated the Duchess, grinding out her cigar on a pew; sliding her still smoking shotgun into her coat's poacher's pocket before storming down the aisle in her gleaming jackboots, as the stained nave windows collapsed in a waterfall of glass. "Still, it might persuade the pigeons to cinch their sphincters. Prayer will never work" [55]
Resolution
"Dear lord, we beseech thee in thy wisdom to dissuade these feathered ones from placing guano on the kneelers. Amen."
"Ladies, thanks for the gift of the refreshments", the pastor simpered, delicately taking a peanut.
"Don't eat those," shouted the verger!
"Too late," he said sadly, staring down at the blue faced corpse. "Prayer doesn't work." [55]
Coda
The moral of the story, should you still be here,
By now should be indisputably clear,
If you have to kill a pigeon in order to stop it shitting,
Do it; fussing over pigeons simply isn't fitting,
While no number of prayers will help you at all,
It isn't dependent on which gods you call. [55]
*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fugue
Copyright :Hermit 2008
License: Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
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With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion. - Steven Weinberg, 1999
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