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Writing Prompts Week 22

13 days ago

Almost missed this one >~< just cause I lost track of the time (Deus Ex's world is amazing in my defense) and in honor of the fact that I basically "spaced" out :P here, have some sci-fi prompts! And there are space pirates. This is a beautiful week.

1)  A spaceship's computer crashes due to several viruses acquired from downloading porn.

2) Space Pirates 

3) "Siri, how do I land a spaceship?"

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 @Plelb

Writing Prompts Week 22

11 days ago

Lol. Pleb.

Interesting prompts, perhaps I'll manage to write something for this.

Writing Prompts Week 22

11 days ago

Told ya x3 Running gag

Writing Prompts Week 22

10 days ago

IDK if I should do something for this one or not.

Writing Prompts Week 22

10 days ago
Thinking I may gather up links to these and the ones Sentinel did to make a big master list of 2017 prompts for New Year's. There's some good ones that didn't get enough love and people ought to be encouraged to participate even in the old threads if an idea catches their fancy.

Writing Prompts Week 22

10 days ago

Oh, that'd be a good idea :O

Writing Prompts Week 22

10 days ago

Alright, here we go. Please add me into the tags and don't judge me too harshly lol.

 

The physical world was a poor mirror for the spiritual. Behind every structure, every event, every person lay thousands - nay, millions, billions, trillions - of the dead. Theirs was a seemingly quiet existence, hidden from the senses of the living. The dead were the forgotten majority, save for the brief funerals, the memorial, perhaps the occasional holiday. The dead held their silence for all with few exceptions.

Those exceptions lived half-lives. Or, perhaps, it was more accurate to say they lived many pieces of lives. A flash of unearned memory, a sensation of conversation, a mind-shattering and endless stream of thoughts pushed forward. It was a life no one chose. The sheer number yearning to speak, to have their will done, to see their dying wish become reality in the physical world, was overwhelming. Many spirit-servants died even before childhood, while their eyes were still blue and their souls were still settling. Fewer made it past childhood, and these few were often twisted creatures, malformed and anxious and violent and otherworldly in the worst way.

The rare spirit-servants that made it to adulthood found themselves at the bottom of society, cast out or labeled insane. Spirit-servants with status were the benefactors of a family that understood their plight, who took time to groom and train their young sèvitè so they could serve as a functional link between living and dead. Part of this training included a strict regimen of meditation, a practice that allowed the doorways between living and dead to be closed on occasion.

Udo Métayer hated meditating. And so, he’d found the best alternative: run to a place where the dead were less dense. Training to be a part of the navy had been difficult, but he’d pressed on. He’d made it, if only barely. Active duty was wonderful. He’d been a part of this ship’s crew for almost a year. Until recently, it’d been a blissful year, quiet, exciting in a regular way that normals wouldn’t understand. Two weeks ago everything had changed.

Here he lay, body strapped to the bunk, just trying to sleep. The ship’s never-darkened lights cast a flickering world against the back of his eyelids. With eyes closed, that faint fluorescent glow gave shape to the world of the spirits, giving them bodies and voices. With eyes open, the vision he was granted was almost equally irritating.

Kimba had been born a spacer and those elongated limbs made him look demonic. His lack of showering since the Event didn’t help his looks. Covered in oil and sweat and blood. He was repulsive. His mouth was opening and closing and words were coming out. Udo could hear him, but couldn’t understand, not while the spirits screamed at him from the other side of the veil.

“Boy,” he finally said as he unstrapped his torso and his legs. Kimba was older, and Udo hoped the word irritated him. He deserved chastisement, playing along with their captain as he had. Kimba had killed seven men during the Event. Kimba was still talking talking talking, didn’t seem to notice as Udo pushed himself through the bunker. Udo floated across the small space until he grabbed hold of a bar near the door. His joints popped as soon as he flipped on the bunker’s gravity. Kimba’s ceaseless speech stopped with a harsh clang as he landed on the ground. Udo grabbed one of the uniform shirts - a useless representation of old rank - wrapped it around his fist, and smashed the damned fluorescent tube. The room was cast in darkness for only a moment before the backup red lights cut on.

With those red lights on, Kimba’s head didn’t seem to bleed at all when Udo smashed his steel-toed boots into the older man’s skull.

He moved outside the bunker, took a moment to reorient himself. Under his feet, metal floors that creaked with every shift in weight, surrounded by old walls inlaid with the occasional port window and light. This aging structure was small, cramped, and newly steeped with its ghost. Before, he’d liked it well enough. He’d liked being able to look out from the windows to see the live stars twirling around him. He’d liked the arbitrary rules. He’d liked the lonely sound of the ship as it passed through the empty expanse of space, never stopping. He’d liked the dull uniformity of the walls. 

All the things he’d liked, gone now. There was an alarm, blaring, blaring blaring. But not blaring loud enough to drown out the sound of the dead.

They came, the newly minted pirates, but the dead granted Udo second sight. Around the corner, with a rifle, they said. Running from the starboard side, port doors closing, watching your progress on the monitors in the mess, we can interfere with those electronics, we can end your suffering, we need your help. They told him everything he never wanted to know and they told him how to find his old, simple happiness again.

Udo didn’t know how much time passed before the mutineers were all dead. Of course, there was no silence. Not until he found the ejection port. He opened it and was sucked into the vacuum of space, where even the dead couldn’t draw a breath to speak.

Writing Prompts Week 22

9 days ago

That was amazing, I loved the amount of detail that you put into this. Bravo!!

Writing Prompts Week 22

8 days ago

Thanks :)

Writing Prompts Week 22

6 days ago

You're welcome. 

Writing Prompts Week 22

6 days ago
It's a cool premise, but the beginning and ending were a bit weak imo. It didn't need to start out with three paragraphs of setting exposition, as that takes up a third of your story before the character is introduced. After that, we barely get to meet him and have his situation established before he kills himself. (Oh and I was going to include a tiny tiny nitpick about there having never been 'trillions ' of people, but I suppose if this is set sufficiently far in the future it can't be ruled out.)

An emotional or tragic ending needs to be earned to have an impact on the reader, and suicide can pretty often come off as a crutch or at least a weak way to wrap things up. (Hey, just like real life!) In fiction, and especially short stories posted on the internet, I usually read it as the author's admission they have no idea what to do with a character or how to wrap up the scenario they've created, and/or are just bored now and wanting to end the story. (And also going by what's been established in the story, being dead doesn't seem to be a very good time for any of these spirits, so why the hurry to join them?)

I think the events of the mutiny itself might have had more potential for building a story around them, especially if he was able to use the help of the ghosts of the first few killed to stop it. Udo's already been established as clever in getting out to space and away from the spirits, but that's also a way of escaping the problem. Having a story be about him overcoming being the little kid from the Sixth Sense and harnessing those powers for a purpose might have been ultimately more satisfying.

All in all though I'd say you have a lot of potential as a horror writer and I'm glad you posted this here, your writing style itself really works to draw the reader in. I'm always wishing to see more activity in these threads so I hope you'll post again.

Writing Prompts Week 22

6 days ago

Hey, thanks. I appreciate the feedback. Will keep it in mind for the next prompt. :)