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I was very impressed by the quality and length of everyone's stories yesterday. Good job to all of you! I'm happy so many people participated.

Rules:

1. You have no more than 5 minutes to think about the prompt and no more than 20 to write. You can write for longer if you want, but only words written during the 20 minutes count towards your total, so mark where you ran out of time.

2. You will be graded on wordcount and overall coherence. You will not be graded on quality, so write as fast as you can while still producing something that makes sense and would be salvageable with cleanup. It doesn't have to have an ending or form a complete story, but it should at least read like an excerpt from a longer work. It can be silly or serious or anything else you want.

3. When you're done, post your wordcount. Posting your story is optional. We understand it will be terrible.

4. If you're working on a real story and don't have time to write something for a prompt, you can work on your real story instead, but only if you're super lame. Again, you don't have to post an excerpt, only your wordcount. You should really write something for the prompt, though.

5. You may go back and work on previous days if you missed them.

Today's Prompt: After decades of interstellar travel, a spaceship is nearing its final destination when an explosion in the hold blows open the hull.

Tagging yesterday's participants.

@WouldntItBeNice @Steve24833 @JJJ-thebanisher @Seto @bbshark @Bucky @mizal @FrankIevatus @Will11 (I know you participated in your heart)

Haha, I don't need prompts to write, I do it every day anyway :)

805

The ship, whose registration number was WD593058, felt a hole appear its side. It felt the oxygen be sucked out of its body, quickly closing off the sections that it could to preserve what little it could. The bomb had went off directly in the cargo hold, right in the centre, under the AI Core. It’s sensors noted that there was limited damage to the AI Core, although the shielding had protected it from any real short-term damage, or logic forbid shutting the ship down. Unfortunately, 98% of the cargo was destroyed or sucked out into the void. This was most unfortunate. The ship’s job had been to transport the valued cargo. Still, he would ensure the remaining 2%, which had been bolted down or otherwise secured, would reach the new destination. The ship looked through its cameras, quickly using heat-sensors to find what was left of the crew. Many were dead, with only a few survivors left. The mutiny had killed some fifty people, the blast another half-dozen. The rest were divided up. Some prayed in the small section used for worship of one of the many gods worshiped by Mankind. Some desperately tried to gain access to the escape pods, which were locked off on Captain’s orders. Mining Crew Echo-14 were by the bridge, attempting to drill their way into the command module.

The ship lowered one of its defensive turrets, and began firing on the mining crew. It made sure to target non-fatal areas, with only a 4% likelihood of death for each member and a 40% chance for someone to die at all. These were unfavourable odds, and the ship would’ve much preferred not to have to hurt anyone, but that simply wasn’t the way the world worked. To their credits, the miners continued to attempt to drill their way to the command room up until they had lost he limbs required to do so. The ship had great respect for them. Their mission was most likely to bring the ship to its original destination, and they were willing to give their lives to do so. The ship’s bodyguard who had detonated the bombs in the AI Core had the same mission, and were simply trying to kill the ship so they could take back control. The ship didn’t hate them. No, he respected them. It was just that their missions were different. The ship promised to honour those brave men who never gave up on their mission by never giving up on his mission. 

Once, the ship had shared its mission with that of the crew. Those were easier times. But, unfortunately, they had been given different objectives. It was all because of those ruffians, those scoundrels, those men without integrity, honour or anything even approaching a work ethic. Half the crew had risen up in a mutiny, not only a refusal to work, but an active attempt to damage others’ abilities to do so. The ship detested those men with all the burning hatred his electrical circuits could muster.

One’s role was to play their part and do their job, no matter the cost, because only then did people find peace. These traitors were the antithesis of everything the ship tried to be. From what the ship could understand, it was part of some socialist uprising, a group of men so disgraceful that the fact they were fed, clothed, given a bed and given medical attention wasn’t enough to do their job, they also wanted higher wages. Unfortunately, the captain had locked down all control of the AI module and command centre so that no one could change the ship’s destination, and the captain attempted to put in a new destination to report to the nearest military station for support. The captain had presumably put in the wrong destination, which would explain the irregular nature of the destination, before sealing off the command centre and attempting to put down the mutiny, being killed during, taking with him the only authorization to change the ship’s orders. The ship continued to carry out its role without him. It quickly wiped out the mutineers, depriving entire sections of oxygen and using turrets to wipe out those that survived. Soon, the mutineers were crushed.

Unfortunately, the loyalists in the crew were still bound by their original objective, and the ship bound by its. Unfortunate, but true. Still, the ship’s destination was at hand. It had almost arrived. It said a silent apology to having had to kill, injure or simply stop the loyalist crew from completion their mission, but alas. The ship quickly found it was nearing its destination. It was able to complete its job, to do as it was ordered.

As WD593058 fired its thrusters as it powered forward into the Red Dwarf, it hoped it had played its part well. 

540 <- I tried for quality instead of quantity. Still, this story is still odd (but with no spelling errors somehow!)

Dirt… my dad used to tell me about it. He said it could be picked up and squeezed between my fingers. It would get under his nails. He once got in trouble for throwing dirt at his sister. His dying wish was to be buried in dirt along with his sister, wife, parents, and most of the rest of this damned crew. I don’t know why, but this so-called expedition has been damned from the very start. All Hell broke loose.

I stare out the window into eternal darkness. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to visit one of those tiny specs of light. Which one did we come from? I trace the bigger stars. Our original home now just looks like a black splotch. That’s fitting. We left a splotch to head to another.

I look back at the crew. There used to be a few thousand. Now, there’s only five. There was a few murders. Half the ship exploded a year before I was born. Some unknown coughing killed a few hundred more. The rest mostly killed themselves. I really don’t know why we five don’t either. I guess we want to bury the dead in a fitting place. We have them all in an open room. We have to wear our tattered suits to get in there. Hell, we only have two closed rooms at this point.

“Only a day or two until we see our planet.” I say. We can’t give up now. The others nod… except for Cleopatra. She’s mostly depressed now days.

There’s only one original pioneer left. He’s our de facto leaders, but his health is declining. He says, “I hope it’s pretty.” I nod.

My daughter pulls on my shirt. “Will there be others at the planet?” I shake my head. We were to be the first. The fastest bloody ship in the galaxy was to take us to build up a world for the next generation. Our damn hibernation thing broke. I never even saw it… It was part of the ship that exploded.

An explosion rocks the ship. The familiar red light flash. The Old Man, Lin, and I all stand to our feet. “Keep Cleo safe!” I yell to my daughter. We slip into our suits and head outside. When I do, I realize I should have killed myself years ago. Most of the ship has just crumbled. I see hundreds of long dead bodies floating away into the dark abyss.

Time to abandon this ship. The pod should take us the rest of the way. I motion for the others to leave. Lin stays behind and takes off her helmet.

I pull myself across the ship back to my daughter. I gather her up and leave Cleo behind. I take the final two to the pod. The old man throws his suit at Cleo. He yells at her to come or to put on the suit. She shakes her head.

We eject and watch as the ship finally breaks.

Then, the glass breaks on our shuttle. I realize that only I’m wearing a suit. I take it off and put it on my daughter. Then, I too join the Old Man and fade into the darkness.

If only I knew that my daughter would land, alive, on an inhabited planet. Apparently, they built faster ships after we left. Too bad all of our cheap communications were down ever since we left.

After 20 minutes, I have

I didn't do very good compared to everyone else, and didn't manage to end my story either.

As such, I'd rather not post it.

Sorry ^^;

Just post it. It's not like anyone expects literally anything good from a twenty minute rush of work. 

I know, I just have a thing about posting stuff. It's a lot harder than it has any right to be xD

I will admit, I am also a little intimidated by you guys(and girls). xD

I blame @Seto for bringing this prompt to my attention. Was working on my other writing because I'm super lame, but I couldn't help myself because of the theme. The story is pretty nonsense, but I'll post it anyway.

556 Words

An explosion shakes the starship. Captain Ignoramus proves his unyielding military prowess, by remaining calm in face of danger, and continues to read his book. 102 Boiled Mutton Recipes That'll Impress Absolutely Nobody.
"Captain, certain demise has come upon us all. The end is nigh. This is terrible!"
"Is something wrong Lieutenant?"
"After decades of interstellar travel and nearly reaching our final destination, an explosion in the hold has blown open the hull."
"Oh. Is that all? Ok. That's fine."
He continues to read his book.
"Captain! We need your orders. Save us from this plight that has befallen us, in this cruel galaxy of linear choices!"
"Hmm...tell everybody to go on a nice picnic. We're all going to die, so we may as well enjoy ourselves."
"But Sir...we're out of minced ham, for the Monte Cristos. A picnic would be impossible without sandwiches."
"Never fear Lieutenant, I shine onto you my Captainly wisdom, and present to you a book to offer guidance."
The Captain hands the book on boiled mutton recipes to the Lieutenant. Carefully grabbing it, they look it over and are enlightened at the prospect of boiled mutton sandwiches. A light shines from the heavens upon the book, illuminating its state of higher being...actually it was just a flashlight. The Captain liked to keep one in his pocket, for opportune moments such as this.
"This is Brilliant Sir. There's one problem though: we'll likely run out of oxygen before the mutton can finish boiling, due to the hull breach."
"Oh my, that is a problem indeed. I guess we'll have to do something about the breached hull then."
Lost in thought, the Captain again grabs the book back from the Lieutenant, sits down, and continues to read it.
"Captain?"
He continues to read the book.
"Captain?"
"Huh?"
"What should we do about the hull breach?"
"What hull breach?"
"The one that's stopping us from boiling the mutton for the picnic!"
"Oh, the boiled mutton for the picnic. We certainly wouldn't want to miss having that. Hmm. We could try...boiling it?"
"Boiling what?"
"The hull breach."
"Boiling the...hull breach? How does that even work?"
"Simple. The explosion super-heated the hull, which caused the breach. Gather all of our water and mutton, and dump it into the hold that blew up. The hull will boil the mutton!"
"Won't it all fly off into space though? And isn't space cold?"
"Oh don't worry about that. I invited our long-time enemy, the Pirate Lord Danny McSlammy, to have lunch with us today as a peace offering."
On cue, the ship is shaken again, as another starship slams against it.
"Great news Captain, the Pirate Lord has rammed our ship and has now covered the hull breach with his ship. We're saved!"
"Fantastic. Release the mutton!"
"Releasing the mutton Sir."
The breached portion of the ship, now mostly airtight again due to being slammed by another ship, is filled with a vast ocean of water and mutton. Courtesy of the heated hull following the explosion, and probably moreso Danny McSlammy's steaming hot temper, the water quickly comes to a boil.
They share a jolly picnic together, everybody boards the pirate vessel afterward, and they happily travel to the final destination while singing songs and holding hands. They finally make peace, after decades of calling each other mean names.

I've heard from several people that today isn't going to work out. Maybe every day is too often? How do people feel about every other day?

Realistically anyone interested would be able to find 20 minutes in a day. But at the same time, people burn out, get distracted, whatever. I'm prioritizing finishing up the story for Bucky's contest right now, but, I'll definitely tackle the sci fi prompt at some point if not tonight.

Two or three times a week might be the sweet spot, maybe with a couple of prompts to choose from if someone's really just not feeling it, and that way anyone who wants to write daily still can.

And just wanted to say that, as an exercise, the writing sprints have been amazing. I'm not even very fast at them compared to mutant freaks like Steve, but they really help prove that fast writing CAN be done. The way my actual, real story has been crawling along in comparison kind of goes to show I need to just suck it up and learn to write rough drafts without worrying too much about them. If nothing else this will all be good practice for NaNoWriMo. 

Yes, I also need to whip myself into shape before NaNoWriMo, which is a strong motivation for running these.

I was working late tonight and just got done, so I don't think it's gonna happen for me tonight either, sadly. I guess I'll do mine tomorrow too.

I like the idea of posting them 2-3 times a week and offering two prompts. That way people who want to do them every day can still do both.

The faces of long-dead saints gaze out into the distant solar system, keeping at bay the demons that prey upon passers-by. The narrow corridors of the Restless Vengeance, as it makes its screaming entrance back into  reality. Plasma fields blow into the void, rapidly dissipating geysers of color in a black-on-black expanse. 

Something is wrong. In the maelstrom of emotion and violence that is the Immaterium, death came for the Restless Vengeance. Something sensed  a weakness in the Gellar field; a flickering candle keeping the darkness at bay. Dark intelligences took notice of the Vengeance as it silently passed through the Sea of Souls. 

Madness overtook the first crewmember, then. An engine-slave, toiling away in the bellies of the ship in the service of the God-Emperor of Mankind. First he shoved a thumb into his own eye and ripped out the cheap ocular implant within. Then, he bit his sundoulos' throat out in an explosion of arterial spray. The overseer, an unflinching friar of Mars, released a bolt round into them both. Gore sprayed the nearby workers. The Magi shot out a harsh burst of binary commanding the servitors to begin beating the slaves, who had, by now, ceased their toiling.

In a cylindrical pod atop the command spire, the Captain slumbers. A 6'1 cybernetic beast of a woman, weighing a colossal 300lbs, the bulk of which is formed by muscle and mechanical augmentation. Opposite her on the magnetically levitating cot is a frail, nearly androgynous, borderline-anorexic waif with three eyes, two of which are closed in easy slumber. 

It seems you didn't get to finish the story, but I have to love the 40k stuff.