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Friday, February 01, 2008

The first path ain't always the right one...

Well, I sat down and started playing with my first writing challenge. I had originally planned on writing a fun little scene between Yoda and Sigmund Freud - had some great ideas for dialogue (Freud would SO have a field day with the lightsaber!) - but it just didn't pan out.

I was writing away on it but I felt like I just wasn't hitting the right notes, it felt forced (yeah, yeah, like the concept wasn't...) and I realized I wasn't having much FUN writing it. I was getting frustrated trying to imagine what these two characters would say to each other.

So I stopped and put it away.

I picked up my alternate topic ("My leg, it clicks when I walk" said David) and started writing. Remember how I was saying that I felt I needed to express a darker tone? How I needed to examine that dark jelly-like spot in the back of my mind? Well, I shined a light on the bugger and it exploded in a caustic, gooey mess.
Needless to say, I pumped out a page pretty darn easily. I've decided to stop there (for now, may come back to it) and post, well, what I think turned out pretty good for a first challenge.

Incidentally, I didn't even get around to using my own 'bonus' word - I just felt it didn't fit with the flow of the story I was trying to tell.

So, anyways, I hope those of you who took part had some fun with it, I've already got a couple new ideas for the next challenge. Also, if you have any cool ideas for future challenges, feel free to let me know.

My story follows:
“My leg, it clicks when I walk” said David, his mandibles glinting in the dim light of the bunker.

“I told you these things were to be expected, David. The transition’s taken quite a toll on your body, I said the repairs will only fix…” He sighs, “...here, let me see it.”

The leg clanks forward and hisses open to reveal the fibrous, fleshy structure beneath.

Pushing the bulging muscle tissue aside, the sweaty, balding doctor is careful to avoid the many tiny ‘excretion’ tubes and their acidic, bluish-black payload.

“I don’t see what the…” His now slippery hands probe and prod around inside the cavity. “AHA!” He exclaims, shaking his head at his own foolishness. Adjusting his glasses he leans in closer with a penlight.

The pneumatic screwdriver whirrs to life and disappears inside, the scaled, metallic knee vibrating in turn. “I’m sorry David, a simple error on my part. Try it now.”

A few tentative steps around the room confirm that all is well. David closes the hatch and prepares to leave.


The cyborg stops in the doorway, his clawed hands flexing, anticipating the battle to come.

“You can’t get her back, she’s gone. What they did to her… there’s just no way to undo it.” He says, making one last plea to the remnants of his friend.

“It stopped being about Julia the moment they -- Listen, Mark…” His voice strains inside its bloodied, chrome housing; the servos whine as he turns. “Thank you. You were more of a father to her than…” His head tilts as the acoustic sensors detect movement above. David continues out the door and toward the elevator. “I fucked up, Mark. I ran and she paid for it.”

The twisting groan of the bay doors inform them that she’s arrived, the screams of Team Delta let them know she’s coming in fast, the crashing at the bottom of the shaft tell them she’s there.

Elevator doors crumple outwards as she steps from the wreckage. Through the cloud of dust and debris the taut, corrupted face of his daughter emerges. Living flesh stretched over raging machine. She towers above him, the stench of smoldering blood and oil filling the room; her long, mantis-like forelegs twitching with a mocking glee.

“Hello, Daddy.”

So, yeah, pretty much as far away from the 'funny' idea I'd had with Yoda and Freud as humanly possible - yet somehow this feels more satisfying.

I can only imagine what Freud would say about that...

Anyways, more challenges to come, lots more words to snare in my net until then.


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