Ripped a page out of a notebook (which included notes from nanowrimo 2004) to use as scrap paper and found written on it, under a dentist appointment, the following two things in point form:
- Necropuppet.
- Hitler Choose Your Own Adventure
... I think this means I should make sure I burn all my old notebooks before I die
Showing posts with label I have no idea what this is; I just wrote it. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I have no idea what this is; I just wrote it. Show all posts
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Facebook Status Updates
I've fallen into the habit of posting bits of writing on facebook as status updates. Some are just lines jotted down in a file, others are bits and pieces that may (or may not) end up in a current WIP and some are short stories seeds for stories I will never actually write.
Bob knew he was being fired if he didn't upgrade to BrainBot 6.0, but all his education and programs worked with 4.0. Her'd avoided 5.0 by claiming it was too buggy, and now it was too late. Pushing thirty, he didn't even know if his brain could handle the upgrade. But he had no choice.
He told everyone he was a paranormal detective, but really he just liked seeing naked ghosts. Almost as much as watching them have sex.
He stepped out of the time machine, staring at his mantle clock and thinking it had worked, that he had moved an hour into the future and time would be his for the plundering. And then he read the paper, and damned daylight savings time with a heartfelt bitter sob.
"Why did you invent the time machine? To see the battle of Waterloo? The birth of Jesus? To meet Genghis Khan? Find out about the dinosaurs?"
"I wanted to go to my high school prom."
".... For the record, I'm writing down Jesus."
"I can't visit Jesus with a death ray!"
"What death ray?"
"The one I'm taking back with me."
The secret of magic is this: every work of fiction is really a travelouge. Understand that and you know all of magic you need to learn.
"Sanity is nothing more than proof your mind is a virgin," the man in the lab coat said with his cheery smile. "It will all be better soon. Scapel."
Cassie shrugged away Terry's question, her response light and dismissive: "We have an infinite capacity to bear the pain of others."
Jared smiled crookedly. When he spoke, his voice was terribly gentle. "To forgive requires a kind of judgement too."
"College girls?" The vampire managed to look paler than normal, like wamed-over oatmeal. "You don't go after them, little fledgling. What do you mean, why? They have mace! You want to know what it will feel like when the sun burns you to a crisp, get some mace in the eyes."
"Catching the pack of werepoodles was quite easy," Detective Christensen told the press conference. "We just went to pet stores and found out who was buying an excess amount of flea collars."
"You have to understand, mom and dad. I paid Joe Chill to kill you. I had to. There was no other way to become the Bat. The Bat needed your sacrifice for me to grow strong, to become the Batman, to fight crime. Because I couldn't do that with the vast fortune you ... left ... me. Oh."
"It is not that the dead don't wish to return; it's that they lose their way in the other world, lost without a Starbucks to guide them back through the darkness to the day."
There is a moment before the burning begins. The brief, fragile hope that you might escape, might not burn, that even fire can be kind.
"I don't think I get it," Terry said. "I mean, you've helped create a goddess. Doesn't that make you spiritual more than, you know, religious?"
Jared grinned. " Spirituality is just the privatization of religion."
Bob knew he was being fired if he didn't upgrade to BrainBot 6.0, but all his education and programs worked with 4.0. Her'd avoided 5.0 by claiming it was too buggy, and now it was too late. Pushing thirty, he didn't even know if his brain could handle the upgrade. But he had no choice.
He told everyone he was a paranormal detective, but really he just liked seeing naked ghosts. Almost as much as watching them have sex.
He stepped out of the time machine, staring at his mantle clock and thinking it had worked, that he had moved an hour into the future and time would be his for the plundering. And then he read the paper, and damned daylight savings time with a heartfelt bitter sob.
"Why did you invent the time machine? To see the battle of Waterloo? The birth of Jesus? To meet Genghis Khan? Find out about the dinosaurs?"
"I wanted to go to my high school prom."
".... For the record, I'm writing down Jesus."
"I can't visit Jesus with a death ray!"
"What death ray?"
"The one I'm taking back with me."
The secret of magic is this: every work of fiction is really a travelouge. Understand that and you know all of magic you need to learn.
"Sanity is nothing more than proof your mind is a virgin," the man in the lab coat said with his cheery smile. "It will all be better soon. Scapel."
Cassie shrugged away Terry's question, her response light and dismissive: "We have an infinite capacity to bear the pain of others."
Jared smiled crookedly. When he spoke, his voice was terribly gentle. "To forgive requires a kind of judgement too."
"College girls?" The vampire managed to look paler than normal, like wamed-over oatmeal. "You don't go after them, little fledgling. What do you mean, why? They have mace! You want to know what it will feel like when the sun burns you to a crisp, get some mace in the eyes."
"Catching the pack of werepoodles was quite easy," Detective Christensen told the press conference. "We just went to pet stores and found out who was buying an excess amount of flea collars."
"You have to understand, mom and dad. I paid Joe Chill to kill you. I had to. There was no other way to become the Bat. The Bat needed your sacrifice for me to grow strong, to become the Batman, to fight crime. Because I couldn't do that with the vast fortune you ... left ... me. Oh."
"It is not that the dead don't wish to return; it's that they lose their way in the other world, lost without a Starbucks to guide them back through the darkness to the day."
There is a moment before the burning begins. The brief, fragile hope that you might escape, might not burn, that even fire can be kind.
"I don't think I get it," Terry said. "I mean, you've helped create a goddess. Doesn't that make you spiritual more than, you know, religious?"
Jared grinned. " Spirituality is just the privatization of religion."
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Fragments of Something
"There is more than just being your blade, my lord."
"Then what good are you?" he asked.
I sheathed the blade in my heart in reply.
My master said, "A sword is not a weapon.
Your sword should be drawn, swift, like claws, teeth,
a threat; a promise of harm to pause action for thought."
I was asked, "Why does your sword not kill?"
And I smiled. "The way the Fallen struggle
to avoid a return to grace."
Shadows see things people do not, moving through dark.
I asked: "How was that not wrong?"
I was told: "If it cannot be defiled, it is not sacred."
Unless it springs from silence, no action is pure.
A voice will only define that,
a love merely embrace it.
"Then what good are you?" he asked.
I sheathed the blade in my heart in reply.
My master said, "A sword is not a weapon.
Your sword should be drawn, swift, like claws, teeth,
a threat; a promise of harm to pause action for thought."
I was asked, "Why does your sword not kill?"
And I smiled. "The way the Fallen struggle
to avoid a return to grace."
Shadows see things people do not, moving through dark.
I asked: "How was that not wrong?"
I was told: "If it cannot be defiled, it is not sacred."
Unless it springs from silence, no action is pure.
A voice will only define that,
a love merely embrace it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)