The exercise:
Write about: the maestro.
Showing posts with label Master Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Master Prompt. Show all posts
Sunday April 17th, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the master.
Fun fact: even though my last installment of the Wastelands was March 10th, I haven't actually replied to the comment on that post yet. So, so far behind.
Anyway. Had a good family day. Spent a good part of the morning playing construction games with Max in the dirt, then went for lunch at our favorite coffee shop with all four of us. After we got back Kat and Miles had a rest while Max and I went up to Kat's parents garage and made a wooden bench to replace the wobbly piece of crap I made as a shoe rack... I'm not sure how long ago. A few years, I think.
At any rate, I made sure this one will be more stable. Max had fun helping out, but mostly he worked on his own bench. Which, apparently, we'll use when the one I made gets too wobbly and needs replacing.
This kid, you guys.
Mine:
"What have we here?"
"Who, Master. I have brought you a fellow human."
"I can see that, Sebastien. So... who have we here?"
"An airship crash survivor. As unlikely as that may seem, with his injuries and physical deterioration his story aligns with the most recently reported attack by the North Ridge Brigands. He is, as you might say, not in a good way."
"And who is, these days?"
I hear the approach of slippered feet but keep my eyes closed and my breathing regular. I'm weak - probably weaker than I want to admit - but I can still fight if I need to. Not that I think I'll need to, but I'll be ready if it comes to that.
"I have sent Scout V42 to investigate the crash site and search for other survivors, Master. And to scavenge any useful parts."
"Good lad."
He places a hand on my chest, almost tenderly. I manage not to flinch but I can feel a cough clawing its way up my throat. I try to swallow it inconspicuously but that only makes it worse.
"Fetch my medical bag, Sebastien. I'll need to use my needle to re-hydrate him. And get a pot of vegetable soup started. Make sure that you blend everything thoroughly, so that our guest will be able to ingest it more easily."
"Yes, Master. Should I bring the restraints?"
"Hmm... yes, better to be safe than sorry. It is a rather large needle, after all."
"What?" I open my eyes and try to sit up but he holds me in place with little effort. "What are you going to d-"
The rest of my words are destroyed by a coughing fit that lasts only seconds. It feels like an hour. When I'm finally able to regain control of my breathing my eyes are watering and my chest and throat are burning.
"Relax, visitor. You are safe here. In time, I will bring you back to full health."
"Who are you?" What does it matter, really? But right now I feel like I know nothing, so even the knowledge of this man's name feels somehow valuable.
"You may call me Master Francis."
Write about: the master.
Fun fact: even though my last installment of the Wastelands was March 10th, I haven't actually replied to the comment on that post yet. So, so far behind.
Anyway. Had a good family day. Spent a good part of the morning playing construction games with Max in the dirt, then went for lunch at our favorite coffee shop with all four of us. After we got back Kat and Miles had a rest while Max and I went up to Kat's parents garage and made a wooden bench to replace the wobbly piece of crap I made as a shoe rack... I'm not sure how long ago. A few years, I think.
At any rate, I made sure this one will be more stable. Max had fun helping out, but mostly he worked on his own bench. Which, apparently, we'll use when the one I made gets too wobbly and needs replacing.
This kid, you guys.
Mine:
"What have we here?"
"Who, Master. I have brought you a fellow human."
"I can see that, Sebastien. So... who have we here?"
"An airship crash survivor. As unlikely as that may seem, with his injuries and physical deterioration his story aligns with the most recently reported attack by the North Ridge Brigands. He is, as you might say, not in a good way."
"And who is, these days?"
I hear the approach of slippered feet but keep my eyes closed and my breathing regular. I'm weak - probably weaker than I want to admit - but I can still fight if I need to. Not that I think I'll need to, but I'll be ready if it comes to that.
"I have sent Scout V42 to investigate the crash site and search for other survivors, Master. And to scavenge any useful parts."
"Good lad."
He places a hand on my chest, almost tenderly. I manage not to flinch but I can feel a cough clawing its way up my throat. I try to swallow it inconspicuously but that only makes it worse.
"Fetch my medical bag, Sebastien. I'll need to use my needle to re-hydrate him. And get a pot of vegetable soup started. Make sure that you blend everything thoroughly, so that our guest will be able to ingest it more easily."
"Yes, Master. Should I bring the restraints?"
"Hmm... yes, better to be safe than sorry. It is a rather large needle, after all."
"What?" I open my eyes and try to sit up but he holds me in place with little effort. "What are you going to d-"
The rest of my words are destroyed by a coughing fit that lasts only seconds. It feels like an hour. When I'm finally able to regain control of my breathing my eyes are watering and my chest and throat are burning.
"Relax, visitor. You are safe here. In time, I will bring you back to full health."
"Who are you?" What does it matter, really? But right now I feel like I know nothing, so even the knowledge of this man's name feels somehow valuable.
"You may call me Master Francis."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)