Monday, December 7, 2009

I Need Your Help

The awesome, J.M. Strother of Mad Utopia is putting together the Best of 2009 #fridayflash Anthology to celebrate 6 months #FridayFlash. I have been participating off and on for about six months now, and I would really like to submit some of my work for consideration. The participant can submit up to three pieces, and I have no idea what to choose.

This is where I need your help (pretty please)

Some of you have read ALL of these and some just a few. I am not asking you to go back and read them (I am not going to complain if you do), but I would like you to let me know if any of the stories listed below has stood out to you.

Looking for a Savior (Eden Corp)
Goodbye (Eden Corp)
Finding a Nice Girl
Poker Face (Eden Corp)
Exile of Innocence (Eden Corp)
Remnants of War
Expecting (Eden Corp)
Forbidden Fruit (Eden Corp)
Past, Present, Future
The Cave

Jon lists on the site that a story in a series which "requires prior expisodes" should not be submitted. I wrote my Eden Corp stories to stand alone. If you feel that they do not, please let me know (they are all connected).

I REALLY appreciate your help on this. I am always so unsure of myself; and I can't thank you enough for reading, commenting, and just being awesome.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. There is a Possible Contest/Reader's Choice Award on Mad Utopia to go along with the Anthology. Go check it out: HERE

Thanks again!
~2

Friday, December 4, 2009

Looking for a Savior

Lisa sat slumped on the toilet, elbows on her knees, picking nervously at her fingernails. Through the doorway she could see the lifeless body of her husband lying on their bed. . “What am I going to do? Think… think,” she trembled.

When no answer came, she rose to her feet, pushed back the curtain, and turned on the shower. Time escaped her. Steam had filled the small bathroom and began to ooze out into the rest of the living quarters before she realized she was just standing there, staring at her reflection.

The woman in the mirror was unrecognizable. Her eyes had grown dark and her face was splotchy red; eyes swollen from tears. Her lips were moving uncontrollably; mouthing words that her brain could not register. She covered the mouth of her reflection with her hands, and stole a glance again at her husband.

Greg’s bulging stare bore holes in the ceiling, and the prints on his face and neck were darkening by the minute. Nausea overcame her, and Lisa folded over with sickness. She had loved Greg like the Eden Corporation had told her to. He was her ideal match, or so she thought.

Lisa stood up pulling the shirt off over her head. She wiped her mouth with it, and dropped it onto the floor. A heavy fog engulfed her as she opened the shower curtain and stepped into the running water. She closed her eyes for what felt like hours, as the water painted her face and chest red. It pooled in the pockets of her jeans and in her shoes, soaking her socks.

“I killed him, I killed him… ” Lisa whimpered, “He was going to turn me in. His loyalty to Eden was stronger than his loyalty to me.” This comment stopped the tears. “I am right.” She shut off the water, pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the tub.

Sloshing water across the room, Lisa confronted her dead husband, “I am saving our civilization,” she said through gritted teeth. “I found a genetic error, and I corrected it. There is no reason for us not to conceive our own children; we have been relying on surrogate clones for far too long… I was not wrong! How could you say that?”

Lisa began to pace and wring her hands, “Not wrong… Not wrong! There is no reason to turn myself in. I have saved our colony…” She shook her head and sat down at the foot of the bed.



After the last trip to the incinerator, Lisa thoroughly cleaned her apartment and took a proper shower. She packed a small bag and loaded her pockets with Greg’s personal items for trade. There would be plenty of takers at Low End, and she needed an escort.



“A recall, are you serious?” Leo Barnes was sweating, and his face was bright red.

”We have no option, Barnes. Elias Eden himself would destroy each and every one of those children. You and I know this to be fact,” Reginald whispered, and looked around. He wanted to be sure they were alone on the basking room floor before continuing, “We are lucky that the codes reset shortly after Dr. Baker altered them, and that we have genetic documentation for each child born at Eden. We will simply explain that the children have a deadly medical defect, and we need to take them in for testing.”

“How many, Foster?” he asked.

“Twelve.”

Friday, October 9, 2009

Goodbye

Dear John,

I hope you won't hate me, but I have to leave the colony. Please know I have always loved you. I knew it that first day in primary when you pulled my hair, and I am STILL sorry I spat in your face. I loved you when you held my hand at our matching ceremony, and you were not sure what to think about me. Even today, I love you now more than ever.

This is so hard, and I hate that I am writing you this note. If I had to tell you face to face, I know I would change my mind. I have to leave. There really isn’t a choice.

I am pregnant.

This colony has been birthed from the same 108 clones since the beginning. Why now, am I able to have a child, when thousands of women before me have not?

Last month, I came across some old documents in Filing. About fifty years ago a woman came to the Eden Corporation claiming she was incubating and that she was the key to a surrogate-free colony.

They killed her. They extracted her unborn child and dissected them both. I don’t want to be cut open and sampled.

There is a light burning inside of me, John. I feel it flicker. It’s like no warmth I have ever experienced before. It is truly amazing.

I’ve known for several months now, and it’s getting harder to hide. I know you don’t like the idea of me visiting Low End on 12, but I had to seek out some answers. I couldn’t tell anyone why I was there, but I overheard some Myrrh talking. They were going on and on about corruption, greed, and the desire to choose their own paths in life; “Free will” they called it. They were planning to leave the colony, and I am going with them.

I am so sorry, but I feel it’s my only option. I hope you can understand. This is so much bigger than us, John. It’s not something Eden should be able to control…

You will find a note under my pillow. It is full of untruths; how miserable I was and how I chose to end my life. It says that I plan to throw myself into the incinerator. Today, I will be seen in that vicinity, and I will be sure to leave some personal item behind. Please take THAT note to security and destroy THIS one.

I love you always,

Bethany



John stared at the paper until the words disappeared. Mucus and saline pooled in the crevices of his face, as the letter delicately slid from his fingers and floated to the floor.

She was gone, and John was sure he would never see her again. “Goodbye,” he whispered, “I love you, always.”

Broken hearted, John closed his eyes just in time to see Bethany walking away. Even his dreams denied him; she never looked back.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Finding a Nice Girl

I am bogged down with work this week, so I didn't have a chance to write more Eden stories for you. I looked this over and did a few minor changes. I thought I would repost it.

Submission for The Protagonist Game
Protagonist: John, the architect from Minnesota
Goal: to find true love
Obstacle: Mother
Action: Takes up stalking



John was shocked back into existence by his mother flicking on the light and shouting “Get Up!” from the doorway of his room. Almost thirty and still living at home with a “Momma” alarm clock, John sat up, rubbed the drool off his face, and made his way to the shower to get ready for work.

Living at home definitely had its perks. John’s mother always made him a hot breakfast in the morning and ironed his work cloths. He had grown rather immune to her nagging impatience for him to start a family and move on.

“John, dear,” his mother said as she poured him another cup of coffee, “are you working late tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” he muttered with a mouth full of toast.

“Mrs. Winston’s granddaughter is in town, and she really wants to meet you.”

John stopped mid-bite and set his fork down, “Now why would she want to meet me, Mother?” he stared at her suspiciously as she began clearing the table.

“She is really a lovely girl, from Texas. She is thinking about moving here, and when I told her I had a successful architect for a son... she was interested.” She was fluttering around the kitchen trying to deflect his glare.

“Successful architect? Is that what you’re telling people? Great.” John slammed both hands on the table, pushed back his chair, and stood up. “I’m going. I will probably be late.” He crossed the kitchen and stepped out onto the back step, slamming the door behind him.

John’s mother had been bragging about him again, and he was getting really tired of her interfering. John practically stomped through the snow to his muddy old Dodge Omni parked on the street, cursing the Minnesota winter and his mother under his breath.

Successful architect? After John finished school, he had lucked into a job at a firm in the worst part of town, where he sat in the smallest cubical double checking measurements. Far from a successful architect, John spent most of the day reading handwriting comparable to chicken scratches on photocopies of photocopies.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled into the parking lot two blocks away from his office, and began the uphill trudge on foot.

It wasn’t like John couldn’t find a date on his own; he wasn’t unattractive or balding, but he was awkward and always nervous around women. He had talked to a couple of women on the way into work on a few occasions. When someone from his office pointed out that they had been prostitutes, John decided it would be best to stare at the sidewalk on the walk to and from the office to the parking lot.

Sometime between making a coffee run for the entire office and assaulting the copier with a screwdriver, John decided he should take a more aggressive approach to the whole “dating” thing. He made use of company time by researching self help books on Amazon and visiting message boards and matchmaking websites. By lunchtime, John was completely frustrated and exhausted, but he pushed on through forums of likeminded posters.

You don’t look for true love… it finds you. Has true love found you, or is your true love waiting for you to take notice? This fail safe guide will help you recognize your true love… This got John’s attention. An even fifty dollars later, John was viewing his “fail safe” guide.

Disgust overcame him when he discovered it was more like Stalking 101 than any self-help book he had ever seen. He didn’t even have a woman he was interested in enough to talk to let alone follow home with a pair of binoculars.

“This is stupid,” John said aloud, and cowered when he realized the words had left his lips. He looked around, and the few people who were sitting at their desks continued working diligently. John deleted the guide, shut down his machine, and left the office early.

Leaving the building behind him, John walked toward the parking lot and his car. While the journey was downhill this time, the sidewalks were slick, so he had to take it slow. This gave him plenty of time to think about his wasted day. He was sick with himself, and continued muttering, “What’s wrong with me?” under his breath as he walked on at a snail’s pace.

As John turned the corner toward the lot, a fog of strong perfume floated before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a woman standing next to an abandoned building. She was wearing a long dark coat and red heels. With his head bowed, eyes on his feet, and moving slower, John pretended he was invisible.

“Hey, baby. Wanna date?” a woman called from the shadows.

Head still down, John stopped. He raised his head and turned to her; she stepped out into the daylight on the sidewalk. “What’s that?” his voice cracked as she moved several steps closer.

“I said,” she met his eyes and flashed him a feathered lipstick smile, “Do YOU want a date?”

There was a moment of silence, and John contemplated running away, but reluctantly, he returned her smile. She winked at him and slid her small hand into his.

...

The light was on when John walked into the kitchen at 11:30. His mother was sitting at the table in her night clothes with rollers in her hair and a sour look on her face. “Mad at me, are you?” she didn’t even give him the chance to answer, “Where have you been?”

“I had a date,” John smiled looking slightly disheveled.

“Oh?” her face lit up, “nice girl?”

“Absolutely,” he said walking past her into the hallway leading into the living room.

Happiness and enthusiasm gathered in her voice, “Will I get to meet her… soon?”

“Maybe,” John said over his shoulder as he started up the stairs to his room.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Poker Face

“God, I love this job,” Martin Ebb said as he laid his cards down and reached for his winnings piled in the center of the table. “Taking your money is just icing on the cake, Pete.”

“I should just give you my money and my lunch everyday instead of wasting time playing cards.”

“Then what would you do on your shift? Work?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Watching monitors through the night… such a challenging job.”

“Better than cleaning toilets,” Pete smiled.

“Shut it. I don’t just clean the toilets,” Martin said as he kicked his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair “I am the foremost authority of the goings on here.” He took a bite of Pete’s chicken salad sandwich and smiled.

“Oh. An authority, are you?”

“Yep,” Martin said with a mouth full of food.

“So… you know what happened last week in Incubation?”

“Yep.”

“What?” Pete quizzed with a raised brow and wry smile on his face.

“They put down a clone. All of maintenance knows. I am sure you saw the footage.”

“I did.”

“You did?” Martin dropped his feet from the table and sat straight in his chair, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I did,” Pete said, “If you must know, that Dalton kid woke her up.”

“Dr. Dalton’s grandson?”

“Yeah, and get this,” Pete leaned in toward Martin and whispered, “he was kissing her.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“Freaking disgusting. Did they tell his wife he was making out with a meat puppet?”

“Oh no, he’s only fifteen. No wife. Matter of fact, he was supposed to be matched last night at the ceremony.”

Martin’s eyes grew even wider. “Supposed to be?”

“Yeah, listen. Nancy works on the 22 in the basking room. She usually just monitors UVBs but she happened to overhear a meeting between Chairs. I think it was Foster and Barnes. Anyway, that Dalton kid killed himself the night before.”

“No shit? That’s crazy.”

“Yeah and even crazier, they were discussing what they were going to do with his match.”

“Do with his match?”

“They mentioned ‘the surface’, but I am not really sure where that is or what level it is. They are going to monitor her and then bring her back in for testing.”

“Testing? What kind of testing.”

“You got me. Nancy said radiation and contaminates. Makes me wonder what they are doing at the surface.”

“Hmn… I’ve never heard anyone mention that before. Sounds kind of strange; are you sure Nancy was overhearing the Chairs?”

“She swears by it, but you know how women are; always gossiping.”

“That’s the truth. Oh well, I guess I better make my round.” Martin said finishing off the last bit of sandwich. “Same time tomorrow night?”

“I guess. I still don’t know why I bother to play cards with you.”

“If it makes you feel better you can just give me your money and your lunch.”

“Nah, I’ll take my chances. See you.” Pete said as he took off down the hall.

Martin left the break room with heavier pockets, and made his way down the corridor and into his small broom closet. He grabbed his mop and bucket of soapy water, and began tracing wet patterns on the floor.

Time flew by as Martin busied himself mopping, but he eventually found himself standing in front of the sliding glass doors etched heavily with the word “Incubation”. With a look of disgust, Martin stepped slowly onto the pad and the doors slid quietly open.

It was hard to ignore row after row of sleeping girls at various stages of pregnancy, but Martin tried his best to keep his eyes on the floor. His thoughts kept returning to the boy kissing the clone, and his stomach turned.

Increasing his pace, Martin began to drag the mop along the floor as he moved backwards through the room. He was making better time, but lost his footing and stumbled backward into one of the beds. As he raised himself up, a petite arm slid off the bed and dangled.

Martin froze. He watched as the clone’s tiny fingers danced to a stop, and then he slowly dropped to the floor. Sickness was inching up on him; he closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before getting to his feet.

He grabbed the young girl’s wrist and delicately placed her arm back at her side. Her arm was not cold like he had imagined, it was warm and soft; much like his own. He looked into her face and a wave of nausea washed over him.

Slapping both hands over his mouth, Martin sprinted out of Incubation, down the hall, and through the heavy wooden doors of the Eden Corporation. He barely made it a step away from the bin when he began to be sick; splattering his lunch down his arms, the side of the bin, and the front of his shirt.

“Hey, I’ll clock you out, bro. Go on home.” Pete shouted from Eden’s doors.

Martin grunted, and Pete watched him stumble down the corridor toward the elevator.

A smile spread over Pete’s face. “Serves you right; maybe next time, you let me win… asshole.”

Friday, August 28, 2009

Exile of Innocence

News of the hanged boy traveled fast among the crowd waiting outside of the grand auditorium. Inside, children were wrapped up in thought and preparation for the evening’s ceremony; unaware of the loss of one of their peers.

Backstage, ties were straightened, blouses smoothed, and fingernails bitten. “Since birth, you have been equally matched,” Wilena Reed, counselor and ceremony organizer, said. “The Eden Corporation has perfected this system many years ago, and it has successfully provided our colony with generations of perfectly matched life partners. Today is YOUR day. The day you find out who you have been matched with.”

Jennifer Watts played with a tiny piece of paper in her sweater pocket. She had written Brian Oldham’s name on it weeks before the ceremony, and made a habit of slipping the piece of paper under her pillow at night when she slept. Brian was oblivious to her as he was any other girl waiting patiently backstage. He looked green, and unlike most of the boys, he had lost his cool in a trash bin outside the auditorium while they waited. This did not phase Jennifer’s desire to be his match.

“Jenn, can you believe it?” Emily whispered, “It’s finally our turn.” Jennifer just smiled and wove the piece of paper in her pocket between her delicate fingers.

“I hope I get a good one,” Rachel said as she eyed the boys in their suits, “Where’s Jared?”

“Probably out back getting sick like Brian,” Emily laughed and Jennifer shot her a nasty look. “What?”

“May I have your attention?” Counselor Reed asked. “We have learned from past experiences, that it is better you learn who your match is BEFORE you get on stage. When I call your names, please line up together against the wall: Stephen Anders and Emily Briggs…”

Rachel laughed and elbowed Emily in her side before she hurried off to take her place next to her future spouse. Jennifer stared at her feet and pressed “Brian Oldham” flat against the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me, Counselor Reed, may I have a word?”

“Absolutely, Doctor. Children, will you please excuse me?” Counselor Reed said as she followed the short, balding man out of the waiting area.

“Emily and Stephen… that cracks me up,” Rachel waved at Emily standing silently next to Stephen, “What about you Jenn, who do you think you’ll be matched with?”

“I dunno…”

“I think you and Andrew Davies would make a cute couple.” Jennifer rolled her eyes and stopped listening as Rachel continued to talk to herself about her ideal matches.

Moments later Counselor Reed returned and reviewed her clipboard. “Jennifer Watts,” she said, “May I have a word, dear?” Jennifer nodded and followed the counselor out into the hall where the doctor was waiting.

“Jennifer, this is Dr. Markum, he needs you to go with him…”

“But the ceremony?”

“I am sorry, but you will not be attending today’s ceremony,” said Dr. Markum, “please accompany me back to my office and I shall explain.”

Jennifer’s heart sank as she followed the doctor down the hall. She would not be attending today’s ceremony; Brian would be matched with someone else. Tears began to well up in her eyes, as she began to place him with each of her classmates. “Please not Rachel,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry… how much further?”

“This is it, on your left here. Please have a seat.”

The walk had winded Dr. Markum, so after resting heavily in his chair, he took a moment to gather his breath. “Miss Watts, you were to be matched with Jared Dalton today. Yesterday morning he was found dead in his living quarters.”

“Oh,” Jennifer breathed. She wasn’t sure what to say. She had classes with Jared, knew him fairly well, but never once thought she would be paired with him. Brian was the only boy in her thoughts, and to her the most suitable life mate.

“Eden has requested your services to be effective immediately…”

“Excuse me?”

“You have been selected for a special job.”

“Job? I don’t understand... “

“Miss Watts, since your intended match is no longer alive…”

“Can’t you match me with someone else?”

“Your match has been planned since your birth, no exceptions. You are property of the Eden Corporation and your service is requested. It is your responsibility to the colony… your civic duty.” Dr. Markum stood up from his chair and pushed his meaty hands into his jacket pockets.

Jennifer closed her eyes and gripped the arms of the chair. After a couple of deep breaths she opened her eyes and said, “When? When do I start?”

“Now,” Dr. Markum said as he pushed the syringe into the side of Jennifer’s neck. She barely raised a hand up to her chest before she slumped forward and was out.



Jennifer opened her eyes to the twinkling of distant lights. Millions of them, tiny and sparkling, further away than anything she had ever imagined. Quickly she sat up and glanced all around her. There were no corridors, no hallways, no living quarters, no… people.

Panic rose in her chest. The desire to run was overpowering, but Jennifer did not stand. Tears began to flow down her face as she lay back down on the dusty ground. Slowly, Jennifer slipped her hand into her sweater pocket, pulled out the fragment of paper, and released it into the night. Through watery eyes, Jennifer watched as “Brian Oldham” vanished into the darkness.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Pippa Thinks I'm Kreativ, Sweet!

Thank you, thank you!

That sweetheart, sometimes referred to as The Old Bat, sometimes @battypip (Twiter), or sometimes just Pippa Hennessy, was kind enough to send me a Kreativ Blogger Award.

Thank you for reading, commenting, and just being awesome.

So...

I suppose this means I have to pass this on to seven other blogs AND list seven favorites. I am not sure I can list seven blogs, as Pippa and Laura Eno have swiped several of my favorites already (and those seem to be #FridayFlash bloggers too... I love the #FridayFlash!), but I will try. (not in any order)

1. TheDarkEagle.com - Chris Chartrand @chrischartrand, an extraordinary #FridayFlash blogger and excellent RT'er

2. Fabulous F**king Fiction - Dana @ywdana another #FridayFlash blogger

3. jentropy - Jen @jentropy, beautifully written... intricately woven GOOD stuff and another #FridayFlash blogger

***notice a trend here***

4. Eric's Personal Diary - Eric Marier probably the funniest freaking blog ever. Sadly, he has been rather busy, so there hasn't been a new post in a while BUT I STRONGLY suggest going back through his archive. It's totally worth it.

5. Kemari Blue - Kemari @Kemari, while quite the gypsy, when she posts (whether it here or someplace else) it's always wonderfully written.

6. Yummy Lolly - This is not a writing blog but it is a creative one. I love her templates for blogger here(they are free - donations accepted) and on her other site http://www.acornglue.com (inexpensive templates -- I got the template for InspirationUnderground on AcornGlue)

7. Whole in My Head - Morgan is a good friend and a beautiful poet. It's been a while since she's posted here, but when she posts again, I am sure it will be worth the wait.


WOW! I was able to come up with 7 - I better post before someone steals them. As for Favorites - Pippa wrote it can be anything, so I am going totally random and just listing some of my favorite things.


Favorite things:

1. The rain

2. Strawberry Pez

3. Halloween (Candy)

4. Birthdays (except my own)

5. Brand new socks, fresh out of the package

6. Blue ink pens

7. Getting mail (snail mail)

Forgive me for not going into great detail about those favorites. I think they can probably speak for themselves.

Thank you so much, Pippa, for the award. It was very sweet. I am incredibly lucky to have friends like you.

Gotta run; tomorrow's Friday and I've got some fiction to finish up ;-)

~2

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