For the Love of Writing and All Creeping Ideas that Seek the Sun--YA Fiction and Illustration
Friday, June 27, 2014
Smarts
I just have dragons on the brain. I can't quite get enough of them. And I know I'm not the only one out there who NEEDS a Nightfury more than life itself. So, in the spirit of inventiveness, what would you do if you had access to dragons? Me, I'm feeling lazy in the summer heat. Stick and marshmallows, here I come.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Limit Break
"Watch," Dedis said.
He pounded his hand into the stone, and my jaw opened as the end of his arm melted into a round ball of tissue, as though he had rolled dough on a wall and buried his fist inside it. When he pulled away, the stone was cratered.
"Cara," he said, flexing his hand back into shape. "You do something."
On the other side of the room, his daughter sighed and lay her book down, then stood and with a look of concentration, kicked fiercely to the side. Her yell reverberated through the room, and instead of stopping at its full extension, the leg stretched double, triple its length, and smashed into the stone beside us. I now knew where the odd craters in the walls came from.
"The very shock on your face tells me that you expect something different," Dedis said to me. "Different rules, a different reality. I couldn't believe it myself when my master showed me--he could wind his arm into a piece of chain and heft a dumbbell beyond the highest tower in the city."
I probably looked as shocked as I felt.
"We aren't superheroes, Phix," he said. "We simply have the privilege of journals. In those journals, the thoughts and experiments of our predecessors show us that this world is not our home. We don't know why we're here and we don't know where we come from, but we believe our presence here is a dream. Lived, and perhaps wasted. We want to find a way out of it. Not by suicidal means," he twisted his mouth, "but by shifting our reality. Now, it's your turn."
"My turn?" I shook my head slowly. "You think I can do that?"
"You're fresh to the City. Give it a try."
I pushed my fist half-heartedly to the rock.
"Not like that. Mean it."
I took a breath, and punched the stone. Pain radiated throughout my hand, and I brought bruised knuckles to my lips.
He smiled grimly. "I said, mean it."
"You're kidding, right?"
He waited, and Cara gave a sigh of exasperation from the table. Finally, I shook out my hand and slammed it into the wall.
I yelled as I felt the bones of my knuckles crack.
"Better," Dedis said. "This time, you must will your flesh to flow. See it defy physical laws--they aren't the same as you expected, are they? Move past the pain and make your skeleton bend. What kind of a will do you have?"
"One that doesn't break my bones," I muttered, staring at my hand. The knuckles were red and swelling blue, and ingrained with divots. Heat and pain throbbed through them.
"Exactly. Strike the stone."
I laughed under my breath. The bones were already broken, right? A little more broken wouldn't make much difference? With a last glance at Cara, who flicked her face back to her book, I closed my eyes and imagined my flesh rolling like Dedis' had, extending like Cara's kick had. I launched my arm at the wall and willed.
I stumbled, and opened my eyes to see the wall an inch from my nose.
Dedis shouted, and Cara exclaimed, close enough suddenly that I could smell her lavender scent.
My arm was a puddle past my elbow.
I turned my head and threw up.
___
This prompt for this fiction was Show someone discovering a new ability. I've broken through cement brick in my martial arts classes, and I've seen some broken bones that make the flesh all doughy, but I do NOT recommend trying this unless you're in a dreamworld. :) What limit-breaking ability would you like to have?
Friday, June 13, 2014
How to Make a Souffle in Zero Grav
This story goes beyond flash today. I couldn't give an intergalactic cooking class full justice without adding more detail. Well, I could, but where's the fun in that? I hope you enjoy. :) --Elm
"Are
you sure this is a good idea?" I asked, letting my sister into
Teddy's bedroom first, since she was hefting the toaster oven.
She
paused to hitch it up with her knee, and gazed at me levelly. "Where
else are we going to learn how to make a souffle for Dad? He oversees
the entire earth. I had to find something outside of his jurisdiction
or kxxx,
no surprise."
"Dad
doesn't know anything about chemical reactions," I argued.
"Cooking isn't classified as magic at all."
"Steph,"
she rolled her eyes. "If souffles aren't magical, then I don't
know what are. Now, be grateful I filched some of Ted's IGCs and paid
for both of us."
Teddy's
Intergalactic Currency was stashed in the safe in his closet, but he
wasn't very careful about keeping it closed when distractions like
"Tucker just exploded your shaving cream in the bathroom"
were shouted above the jargle coming from his mp3 player. Baby Tucker
was gifted like Dad; Teddy, Stace and I were just gifted with
survival smarts.
"But
the toaster oven?"
Stace
smiled grimly. "I want to be able to make my souffles at home as
well as in a space station. It may not be as nice as their
technology, but it's the only tool I have that Teddy hasn't stunk up
with his Stinky-richies."
Cerrichis
were Teddy's new find. He imported them from some satellite off the
Andromeda galaxy... Cetus Dwarf, I think. They smelled like roasted
goat hoof and looked like seaweed. Not really my thing, either.
"Can
you get the Gate for me?" she asked. "This thing is heavy."
I
hung a Com unit on her ear and one on mine, and then unlocked the
Interdimensional Gate using the passcode that was scrawled on a
little piece of paper also inside the safe. Then I entered in our
destination code as Stacy rattled it off to me. The wall on the other
side of the bed began to wriggle and then boil as the molecules sped
into their vacuum. It always amazed me that the paint and sheetrock
didn't crumble when it all slowed back to normal. A strong gravity
threatened to pull the bed in, and I was glad that Ted had let me
clean his room for him in light of Tucker's distraction--a sweet,
sisterly, and completely loaded offer. No way did I need his smelly
t-shirts coming through the Gate with us.
"You
have the ingredients?"
I
lifted the Target bag and wrapped the cord to the toaster oven around
my wrist to make sure it didn't remain in the bedroom when the gate
closed behind us, and allowed the vacuum to pull me in.
For
a second, it felt like my cheeks and clothing and all the skin under
my clothing were sucked off of my body, and then my insides began to
tingle, rearranging themselves like the wall had. I stumbled on the
other side, hoping that my molecules had arranged themselves back in
the right places, and was glad I'd foregone breakfast.
"We'll
have to take the transport," Stace said, blowing her hair off
her face. "The classroom is about three miles down from here."
She smiled. "Sure is easier to carry this thing in low grav. We
should file for this at home. Dad could pull it off."
I
snorted. "He likes things to be stable, remember? Bouncing
toaster ovens are not stable."
"I'm
just saying."
We
bounced ourselves and our belongings through the crowd to the nearby
elevator and squished in with some other passengers. Squished was
literal--a whole family of balyoonis (who as far as I could tell were
one giant lung) shoved in with us, and the younger ones couldn't hold
their breath long enough to keep their middles in the whole way down.
I tried not to stare and was glad that skin contact was not on the
list of "aggressive behaviors that will cost you your life".
I didn't smile reassuringly at the kids, either, since that was
on the list.
I
clutched the bag of ingredients as I followed Stace to the classroom,
set it down briefly as I clamped on my harness in the ante-chamber,
then wrapped myself around it tighter as the ingredients threatened
to float out of the bag's opening inside our giant cube of a
classroom. The classroom itself was zero grav to allow for some of
the more delicate life forms to participate... or maybe it was
because that was standard for many of them already. As my lemon
floated off into the air, I snatched at it and shoved the entire bag
into a cupboard on the wall.
"Oh
shoot," Stacy said, placing the toaster oven on a work surface.
The tables were anchored with lines to hooks in the vaulted ceiling
and floor. "Can you go find a converter for me?"
I
clipped my harness to the bar traversing the perimeter of the room
(not unlike a ballet bar), and clung to it, squinting at the signs
posted beside each cupboard. I scanned down at least thirty different
scripts before finding one I recognized--in Chinese. Thankfully for
my beginner Chinese skills, beneath it was a word in English. WHISKS.
I sighed and pulled myself along the bar, bowing excuse me's (another
non-aggressive motion) to the individuals whose stations I tried not
to bump into.
All
the cords made it hard not to trip, especially on the plastic-looking
bubbles many of my classmates had attached to belts that clipped to
their harnesses so they floated within reach. They looked like they
were filled with flour or sugar or cocoa... I mean, this was an
intergalactic cooking class for souffles, there had
to
be certain ingredients that all lifeforms used, didn't there?
Finally,
near the portable power tools, I found the cupboard labeled
CONVERTERS, and I rifled through the collection until I found one
resembling our American plug. Why there needed to be so many shapes
and sizes for plugs (including one the size of a football),
I couldn't guess.
I
turned around and gulped as a huge watery-looking fellow gurgled, and
my translator flicked on. "Did you find what you were looking
for?" he asked me, and I nodded, holding up the converter. "Very
good. Please make your way to your station, we are beginning the
class."
Maybe
that's why there were plugs as big as footballs. His hands were my
body-size alone.
On
the way back, I raided the cupboard labeled CONTAINERS and grabbed a
set of those bubble things for us. I also asked my Com what in the
universe the teacher's species was. Wallerum. Mostly water, can
stretch and cohese at will.
The
Wallerum began to speak.
"Welcome
to Soufflendous Souffles," he said. Stace rolled her eyes as
strange noises came from around the room. Funny in other languages?
"I am Teacher," he said, and I tapped my Com. Teacher
Teacher.
"First,
you will preheat your oven to 190 degrees Celsius," Teacher
gurgled.
Stace
fiddled with the dial on the toaster oven, while I moved the eggs
from their carton into a bubble container. They floated like little
versions of another of my classmates two stations over, and I
nervously clipped the container onto the ring closest to my body on
the belt, just in case he? she? it? glanced over and freaked out.
"Next,
grease your baking bubble with butter."
I
glanced at Stace, who looked doubtfully at the souffle pan she'd
tucked into the toaster oven and opened her mouth, no doubt to ask me
to find her a "baking bubble." I quickly took the powdered
sugar and crammed its end into another plastic container, and then
squeezed. Instead of forcing the powdered sugar inside, the end came
out, and powdered sugar exploded into a thick white cloud around me.
I
coughed and waved at the powder. Then something sucked at my clothes.
The tension released and I blinked to see that the powder was gone.
Teacher drew back, looking suspiciously white... and pink. "Please
forgive me," he said. "I was nervous that the cloud would
set off an alarm."
"Um,
no problem?" I said, and bowed. I couldn't tell for sure, but I
think he looked relieved. He turned back to his pre-cloud color and
returned to the center of the classroom.
What
had he done, licked me? I tapped my Com and asked it what had just
happened. Swallowing, or cleansing, is thought to be a sign of
affection. Ew. No wonder he turned pink. I shook it off and was
glad I'd brought an extra bag of confectioner's sugar. I decided to
leave it in the bag--a pretty good bubble itself. Stace made it back
and I ignored her questioning look.
Teacher
announced, "Place your chocolate inside a warming sphere. Then
place the sphere into a boiling chamber. Bring the water inside the
chamber to a bubble and allow the chocolate to melt."
He
hung close to our table (yeah, like we needed help), and after watching
us fumble for a while, offered to fetch us the extra baking tools we
needed. I blushed, thinking of his... lick? and nodded, and he
returned a few moments later with a couple of glass spheres and
spatulas in our size, cradled in his enormous, flowy palm. He hovered
close, watching but not commenting on Stace's and my attempts to
insert the chocolate into the warming sphere. We got the chocolate
in, and we even got the little bubble into the big bubble, but we
lost it at turning it on.
"Um,"
I said finally, and he reached over a hand to carefully tweak the
control on the boiling chamber. Instead of lots of small bubbles, one
large bubble erupted around the warming sphere, true to zero grav,
and gradually, melted chocolate began to coat the sides of the glass.
I
bowed and turned to Stace. "Okay," I said. "I think
we're getting this."
"Maybe."
She sounded sullen.
Teacher
continued, his gurgle musical in the background as my Com spoke into
my ear. "As the chocolate melts, place eight egg whites into a
second warming sphere, add one-quarter cup of white sugar, two
teaspoons of lemon juice, and mix."
"Eggs.
You brought whole eggs. They were supposed to be egg whites,"
Stace said as I unhooked the bubble.
"All
the containers smelled like goat hooves," I said. "I figured
we could crack them here. You didn't tell me there'd be no gravity."
"Sure,
blame it on the gravity."
"Do
you need help?" Teacher asked, and I looked nervously up at him,
wondering if he was offering another lick. Oh yeah, the eggs.
I
handed over the bubble and with a glance at the neighboring classmate
two stations down, he turned and extracted the eggs from the bubble.
His hand kind of melted around them, all fluidy-like, and inside it,
the shells cracked, the yolks separated from the whites, and the
whites themselves coagulated into a ball. He took the second warming
sphere and deposited them inside.
I
snapped my jaw closed. "Wow," I said. "You have
skills."
The
teacher turned that suspicious shade of pink and backed away. "Happy
to help," he said.
"You
don't think he's just showing off for you, do you?" Stacy grinned
at me.
"Even
if he was, there's a reason he's the teacher."
I
turned back to bow at him but he'd hustled off to help
another, rather pickly-looking classmate.
She
harrumphed and I shook my brain back into gear. "I think you
have to measure the sugar in a measuring sphere while it's inside the
bubble," I said, as Stacy sorted through our measuring cups.
She
slammed the cupboard door. "Fine, you do it, then. I don't know
how I'm ever going to repeat this at home."
"They're
just different tools."
"I
told you the toaster oven was all I knew how to use."
"That's
next."
I was getting the hang of it by now. I inserted my hand
and a knife into the bubble and poked a hole in the lemon, then
squeezed it. Juice floated in beads around the outer shell and I
gathered them up in a large, glass pipette. I squirted the fluid in
with the eggs and sugar, and then shook the sphere as hard as I
could. It all kind of lazily mixed into clumps, and I frowned. I
grabbed a whisk from the WHISK cupboard and shoved it into the
sphere. It kind of worked.
"You're
ahead of me," Teacher said, and I jumped. He was so... impressive. "Very good. Now insert the warming sphere into the boiling
chamber, and as the water comes to a boil, continue to whisk the
mixture. When it's warm, fold in the chocolate with the spatula."
"Whisk 'til warm, then fold," I repeated, and he made a funny noise that
my Com translated as happy, or, noise of approval.
I
whisked while Stace watched with a dazed look on her face, and not
long after, I sucked up the melted chocolate with another pipette and
squirted it into the eggs. I poked in the spatula and waved it around
in what I hoped was a folding motion. How you "folded" in
zero grav was beyond me.
"When
the ingredients are combined, take the warming sphere from the
boiling chamber and place it into the oven. Bake at the preset 190
degrees Celsius for approximately 20 minutes or until brown."
"Brown?"
Stacy said. "It's already brown."
"Darker
brown, a bit," I said.
"Oh
sure, that makes sense."
"This
is your part. The toaster oven, remember?"
"Oh,
yeah." She perked up and removed the little sphere from the big
sphere. She opened the oven and shoved it at the opening, but it
caught at the door.
As
I considered how to break it smoothly that the toaster oven
wouldn't work, she scowled, then broke into a smile. "I have an
idea." She took out the Earthy souffle pan.
"You
can't seal it," I said.
"You
brought foil, remember?" She opened our cupboard and took it out. "This'll work."
"It
won't," I argued.
"It
will," she promised, and crimped the foil all around the edge of
the pan.
"Why
can't we just use one of their ovens?" I half-asked,
half-whined.
"I
told you why," she said. She took the pipette and gathered up
the batter, then squirted it into the opening in the pan. It worked,
mostly. A few droplets escaped, which she caught on her tongue.
I
rolled my eyes nervously.
"Teacher
did it, why can't I?" she said, and I blushed.
She
slid the souffle into the toaster oven and set the timer. I started
to clean up, and a little while later, Teacher came over again,
making another happy, or, noise of approval.
"How
is it cooking?" he asked.
Stace
peered at the oven. "It's too dirty to tell."
I
yelled as she pulled open the door.
The
souffle exploded.
Threads
of chocolate burst through the air and spread from the oven door in a
great, pressing growth. I blinked because it
looked so blurry, and then I realized I was watching the souffle
explode from inside
Teacher. So was Stace.
Awkward.
But somehow, it didn't matter.
Then
we were on his opposite side and I ran a hand through my hair. It felt
dry. I watched as Teacher spread his body in a great stretch to grab
at the flying souffle. Seriously impressive.
"There
really is
a reason you're the teacher," I bowed as Teacher pulled himself
back together. "You're not burned, are you?" I asked him.
Teacher
turned pink again. I really had to check what pink meant for a
Wallerum. "Only a little," he gurgled.
I
watched, fascinated, as all the little bits of chocolate inside him
gathered into a collection and surfaced inside his palm.
"Do
you want these?" he asked, and I reached out and grabbed one,
and put it in my mouth. I felt my mouth muscles spread in a helpless
smile of ecstacy.
"No!"
Stacy yelled.
I
put my arm around her. "Stace, they're not ruined."
"Hang on," I told Teacher, who was turning away with our dessert. He'd turned a sorry shade of gray.
"Hang on," I told Teacher, who was turning away with our dessert. He'd turned a sorry shade of gray.
"He
just regurgitated it," she wailed. "He regurgitated us!"
"I
think it's different for him. Seriously, Stace, please?"
She
looked at me and blinked. I know, when was the last time I said
please? Finally, she took the thread of chocolate from my fingers and stuck it hesitantly
between her lips.
Her
eyes went wide. "Wait," she said as Teacher placed them
into the cupboard labeled COMPRESSOR. "I want those back!"
His
eyes turned around and the chocolate floated through to his other
side.
I
bit delicately on another flaky wafer. "We'll just have to make
Dad another souffle. When's the next class?"
Friday, June 6, 2014
Flaming Expectations
Mason encouraged the stone to open a pocket and deposited his prize inside it, where it couldn't be smelled. Then he trotted to the end of his journey.
Flames brought the hot air to life and licked the edge of the pit, and Mason pressed his ears to his head and opened his mouth. The heat burned his teeth and tongue but he didn't step back. He was here to ask his enemy for a favor. He couldn't appear weak.
He gazed into the wavering heat for a hint of the presence that every hair on his body knew was here. He yowled.
The flames leapt and the heat seemed to gather itself. A pressure flattened the orange tongues against the outer rim until they appeared as only an afterthought, and heat filled Mason's mouth. A black ember rose from the depths, unfolding its coil.
"Hello, bruzzah." The serpent grinned and flicked its tongue toward him. "Are you here for a job interview? I need my back scrubbed. Flaking mica is so itchy."
Mason's tail twitched in irritation. Sussah thought he was so funny. He wanted to catch that tongue and shred it through his claws. The whole "brother" thing made him want to howl to the Winds at its unfairness. Whoever heard of a cat paired to a serpent, of all animals?
"If you touch me with that thing, I'll topple all your rocks on top of you," he growled.
"Still the self-righteous, boring animal you were always were, I see," Sussah hissed, bathing him in steam.
Mason gagged on the intensity of the sulfur. He thought he'd accustomed himself to that part of the ordeal on the long pathway downward. Thankfully, he'd had something in his mouth to sweeten the flavor.
"So? Why did you come here, if not to aid me in my eternal predicament?"
Mason hesitated. He wasn't sure his mate was in her right mind, and uncertainty and disbelief (not to mention instinct) had made him argue against her for most of the summer season. But she'd held out, and in the end, he bowed to her wishes. Anything for the cat he loved.
"Murra wants a fire serpent to watch her kits. The ice is coming and she's worried they'll freeze."
A crunching noise filled the cavern and Mason shrank until he realized the serpent was laughing.
"Let me get this straight. You want me to entrust one of my kin with your clan for the winter? Ask a serpent to live at the heart of a nest where serpents aren't allowed to slither, at the time of year when my kind are the weakest?"
Mason crouched, acknowledging the hilarity of the idea. "She said it would be a show of our truce. She told me I should learn to get along with my bond." He flicked his tail, irritated and amazed that they were having this conversation.
Sussah's laugh grew. "And what promise would I have in exchange for this truce? Will she send one of her own precious kits here?"
Mason wanted to bite him in outrage at the idea. Instead, he shifted his feet. His pads were sweating and made the ground feel slick. "You know they can't endure this kind of heat. But she promises moles next summer."
"Moles?" Sussah's tongue flicked again, and Mason resisted the urge to swipe it.
He shrugged. "I told her I'd ask. I didn't think you'd take me up on it." He turned his back on the serpent, telling his fur firmly to stay sleek.
"Wait. Tell me about moles," Sussah hissed.
Mason turned back around, reluctant. "I will accompany my kits down here with one mole apiece each quarter, when they are grown enough to make the trip. Until then, I will bring one myself each quarter."
"Moles...." Sussah's neck rolled in a circle of pleasure and the flames danced. "I haven't tasted mole in over a hundred years."
"They are tasty," he licked his lips.
Sussah bent his body close, and Mason flattened his ears and squinted. "How do I know you will keep your end of the bargain?"
"I have a mole for you now, up above. And," he hesitated and closed his eyes entirely, unsure of how he could ever mutter the words that he knew would close his end of the deal.
For Murra and the kits.
"I'll scratch your back for you."
A cloud of sulfur enveloped him. "Bruzzah, I'm in."
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