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Another icon, just for the heck of it:
And, also... I had to do some writing recently. Not much. Three stories. Short ones. Start with a given sentence, see what you can make of it, even if it's only a few paragraphs. Thought I'd share. Original sentences highlighted in bold.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladymirth, feel free to snarf if anything strikes your fancy and you have some space to fill.
It was a dark and stormy night. A storm suddenly broke out and drenched all the people. No, wait. I said that already. Sorry. I'm new at this whole narrator thing. So... it was dark. And then it was stormy. So it was dark and stormy. And nighttime. Of course it was nighttime. It was dark. Right. Presumably, it was ominous in some way. Although, really, it would be hard to tell, being so dark and all. Not very many omens to see. But the people were wet. Probably, they were running for cover. But, again, it being so dark…
Look, never mind. It was a bright and sunny mid-afternoon. Flowers were blooming and people were doing… whatever it is that people do out in the middle of nowhere far away from any kind of lights that would let you see them on a dark and stormy night and…
Bright. Sunny. Flowers. People. And they all lived happily ever after. So there.
I am so fired, aren’t I?
The computer unexpectedly blew up with a deafeningly loud bang. Ensign Davis picked himself up from the floor, wiped the soot from his eyes, and tried to regain his composure. Clearly, the ship had taken a devastating hit. Though why the fleet’s engineers couldn’t seem to come up with less explosive displays was beyond him.
Looking around the smoky bridge, he made a mental note to talk to someone about reintroducing seat belt technology, as well. The designers had clearly been too distracted by newer innovations like artificial gravity and force fields to remember to include such necessary basics.
He shook his head. This wasn’t doing any good. He could reinvent the space ship later. Right now, the ship was clearly under attack by… He looked at the viewscreen. It too had blown up, of course. The chemicals in its display were no less vulnerable to the power spike caused by the enemy blast than the monitor at his own station.
As the only member of the bridge crew who had escaped being knocked completely unconscious by the blast, it was his duty to find out what was going on. He could see about helping the others later, after ascertaining the nature of the immediate threat.
He ran to the next room. Why didn’t the bridge have an actual window to the outside? One of these days, someone would have to make serving time as a crew member on an actual ship a requirement for a degree in ship design.
He shook his head again, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Finally, he reached the window.
He was greeted by the sight of a familiar image. DaVinci’s Vitruvian Man. The diagram etched into the side of the Voyager space probe. The probe had been launched into deep space at the dawn of the Space Age, Mankind’s first attempt to introduce itself to whatever alien life might be “out there” in the vast reaches of the galaxy. Now it was a priceless historical artifact. A time capsule of sorts. A look into the world of the past. Or… it had been, anyway. Before it had crashed into the side of a star ship moving at nearly three times the speed of light. Well, at least now they knew where it had ended up.
He sighed. It would need to be taken care of, of course. But there was no way he could get to it. Not while the ship was moving. And, with the current state of the bridge, stopping the ship wouldn’t be so easy.
Grumbling to himself, he added windshield wipers to the list of technology to be reintroduced...
The cat slowly crept through the undergrowth during the night. Sleek, powerful, and deadly - and yet, eerily stealthy – the mighty hunter stalked his chosen victim. Not a sound betrayed his lethal presence. Not a leaf rustled. The quarry remained utterly oblivious to its imminent mortal peril.
The cat pounced, leaping out of the darkness, claws unsheathed, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. The prey, terrified beyond the hope of any rational thought, scrambled desperately away… only to find the grinning hunter somehow already there, waiting. It reversed direction, darted off again… and found the killer was, once again, already there.
The cat continued the game, reveling in his deadly mastery. Finally, tiring of the game and convinced that he had milked every last delicious drop of terror from his helpless target, he reached out to make the kill.
The cricket gave one last feeble chirp… and died.
The mighty hunter took a moment to savor his victory, and then…
The cat stalked through the dense undergrowth. He prowled through his jungle domain, unseen… but only for his own amusement. None would dare challenge him here. No creature could face up to his –
A dropped bottle crashed down nearby. The cat bounced back, hissing his displeasure.
Well, no matter. He sauntered off into the darkness, putting the incident behind him.
The cat moved through the dense jungle foliage. His faithful human was out here, somewhere. The poor creature had her uses, but couldn’t seem to turn around without needing her protector to rush to her rescue. He sniffed, seeking her scent. What danger had found her today? What peril would he have to face in order to –
“Here, kitty, kitty!”
What peril would he have to –
“WALTER!”
What peril would –
“Walter! Where have you gotten to this time? I have some cream for you! Here, kitty, kitty!”
What peril –
“Walter, it’s dinner time! Do you want your dinner?”
*sigh*
“Walter Kitty! Dinner time!”
Thoughtfully, the cat decided that he had sated his appetite for adventure. For the time being, anyway. He padded back towards home, ready to be feasted and adored. It was, after all, no less than his royal due.
And, also... I had to do some writing recently. Not much. Three stories. Short ones. Start with a given sentence, see what you can make of it, even if it's only a few paragraphs. Thought I'd share. Original sentences highlighted in bold.
ladymirth, feel free to snarf if anything strikes your fancy and you have some space to fill.It was a dark and stormy night. A storm suddenly broke out and drenched all the people. No, wait. I said that already. Sorry. I'm new at this whole narrator thing. So... it was dark. And then it was stormy. So it was dark and stormy. And nighttime. Of course it was nighttime. It was dark. Right. Presumably, it was ominous in some way. Although, really, it would be hard to tell, being so dark and all. Not very many omens to see. But the people were wet. Probably, they were running for cover. But, again, it being so dark…
Look, never mind. It was a bright and sunny mid-afternoon. Flowers were blooming and people were doing… whatever it is that people do out in the middle of nowhere far away from any kind of lights that would let you see them on a dark and stormy night and…
Bright. Sunny. Flowers. People. And they all lived happily ever after. So there.
I am so fired, aren’t I?
The computer unexpectedly blew up with a deafeningly loud bang. Ensign Davis picked himself up from the floor, wiped the soot from his eyes, and tried to regain his composure. Clearly, the ship had taken a devastating hit. Though why the fleet’s engineers couldn’t seem to come up with less explosive displays was beyond him.
Looking around the smoky bridge, he made a mental note to talk to someone about reintroducing seat belt technology, as well. The designers had clearly been too distracted by newer innovations like artificial gravity and force fields to remember to include such necessary basics.
He shook his head. This wasn’t doing any good. He could reinvent the space ship later. Right now, the ship was clearly under attack by… He looked at the viewscreen. It too had blown up, of course. The chemicals in its display were no less vulnerable to the power spike caused by the enemy blast than the monitor at his own station.
As the only member of the bridge crew who had escaped being knocked completely unconscious by the blast, it was his duty to find out what was going on. He could see about helping the others later, after ascertaining the nature of the immediate threat.
He ran to the next room. Why didn’t the bridge have an actual window to the outside? One of these days, someone would have to make serving time as a crew member on an actual ship a requirement for a degree in ship design.
He shook his head again, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Finally, he reached the window.
He was greeted by the sight of a familiar image. DaVinci’s Vitruvian Man. The diagram etched into the side of the Voyager space probe. The probe had been launched into deep space at the dawn of the Space Age, Mankind’s first attempt to introduce itself to whatever alien life might be “out there” in the vast reaches of the galaxy. Now it was a priceless historical artifact. A time capsule of sorts. A look into the world of the past. Or… it had been, anyway. Before it had crashed into the side of a star ship moving at nearly three times the speed of light. Well, at least now they knew where it had ended up.
He sighed. It would need to be taken care of, of course. But there was no way he could get to it. Not while the ship was moving. And, with the current state of the bridge, stopping the ship wouldn’t be so easy.
Grumbling to himself, he added windshield wipers to the list of technology to be reintroduced...
The cat slowly crept through the undergrowth during the night. Sleek, powerful, and deadly - and yet, eerily stealthy – the mighty hunter stalked his chosen victim. Not a sound betrayed his lethal presence. Not a leaf rustled. The quarry remained utterly oblivious to its imminent mortal peril.
The cat pounced, leaping out of the darkness, claws unsheathed, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. The prey, terrified beyond the hope of any rational thought, scrambled desperately away… only to find the grinning hunter somehow already there, waiting. It reversed direction, darted off again… and found the killer was, once again, already there.
The cat continued the game, reveling in his deadly mastery. Finally, tiring of the game and convinced that he had milked every last delicious drop of terror from his helpless target, he reached out to make the kill.
The cricket gave one last feeble chirp… and died.
The mighty hunter took a moment to savor his victory, and then…
The cat stalked through the dense undergrowth. He prowled through his jungle domain, unseen… but only for his own amusement. None would dare challenge him here. No creature could face up to his –
A dropped bottle crashed down nearby. The cat bounced back, hissing his displeasure.
Well, no matter. He sauntered off into the darkness, putting the incident behind him.
The cat moved through the dense jungle foliage. His faithful human was out here, somewhere. The poor creature had her uses, but couldn’t seem to turn around without needing her protector to rush to her rescue. He sniffed, seeking her scent. What danger had found her today? What peril would he have to face in order to –
“Here, kitty, kitty!”
What peril would he have to –
“WALTER!”
What peril would –
“Walter! Where have you gotten to this time? I have some cream for you! Here, kitty, kitty!”
What peril –
“Walter, it’s dinner time! Do you want your dinner?”
*sigh*
“Walter Kitty! Dinner time!”
Thoughtfully, the cat decided that he had sated his appetite for adventure. For the time being, anyway. He padded back towards home, ready to be feasted and adored. It was, after all, no less than his royal due.