Wednesday November 30th, 2011

The exercise:

The third movie in the Oliver film club series - Life, Above All - was shown tonight. Still stunned. Can't really say much more than that at the moment.

Your prompt: courage.

Mine: 

Her courage is quiet,

Unassuming.

Her greatest challenge:

To just keep going.

One foot in front of the other,

Spine unbending,

Despite the unimaginable burden

And the road unending.

You can see it in her eyes,

That determination;

She will reach it one way or another,

Her destination.

Tuesday November 29th, 2011

The exercise:

Two haiku about: the moving company.

I got a couple hours of work helping a lady move yesterday and earned a bit of cash and a writing prompt to boot. I'm still hoping and looking for something a bit more regular, but jobs like that certainly help in the meantime.

Mine:

One's on crutches, the

other's ninety - of course they

charge by the hour.

*     *     *

The constant smoke breaks

I can sort of understand.

The beer breaks, less so.

Monday November 28th, 2011

The exercise:

Do what you will with: the aftermath.

Apparently I just couldn't resist one more go at last week's story. But I'm done with it now, I swear!

Mine:

Their response was predictably bureaucratic. Board members stumbled over each other in their rush to introduce new policies and operating procedures.

These were debated, refined, expanded, struck down, and reintroduced in due course. When the hot air finally settled the expanded paperwork was championed at news conferences, on televised interviews, in newspaper article after newspaper article.

The message was uniform and clear. Yes, of course it was a terrible tragedy. But all of these extra words in the manuals and standards, drawn up by your trusted representatives, would ensure nothing like it would ever happen again.

But, of course, it would. For they had not yet found a way to regulate human nature out of the equation.

Sunday November 27th, 2011

The exercise:

Space Week draws to its inevitable conclusion today with: the landing.

I'm finishing up my story today and you're welcome to either do the same (with as many comments as required) or just keep on keeping on with it. I leave the choice in your creative hands.

Regardless, I'd just like to say thanks to you guys for making this week particularly enjoyable.

Mine:

When the ship landed at last on Nukzhul, teams of medical personnel were ready and waiting for them. The moment the main gangway touched down they rushed on board, pulling carts overflowing with fully functioning Individual Environment Suits behind them. Once inside they split off in groups of twos and threes as they began their search for survivors.

There were, if they were being honest, more than they had expected. After all, they'd had no contact with the ship in the final two hours of the voyage aside from the automatons that had taken over the flight controls. Status updates would have been a waste of precious air.

Most of the survivors were in pairs, having shared their breathing apparatuses between them like Old World scuba divers submerged with a single tank. A few of the higher level Technicians had hacked their own suits and keyed in a scaled back oxygen output in order to extend their supply at a minimally life sustaining level.

A few lower level Technicians had attempted the same technique, with fatal results.

The Engine Room was the final area to be searched. The medical crew that had the dubious honor of exploring its claustrophobic corners filed the following report:

The deceased were found next to each other in the Engine Room. Dog tags identified the crew members as Timothy Higgins, Mechanic, Second Class and Miranda Sanchez, Mechanic, First Class.

All signs indicate they were working on an important adjustment on Engine Three. It is our belief that an argument broke out over the correct settings and a physical altercation ensued. At some point during this scuffle First Class Mechanic Sanchez's IES was irreparably damaged.

We believe that Second Class Mechanic Higgins was overwhelmed with grief at the unintended results of his actions and knelt over his fallen comrade for some moments, escorting her spirit to the other side. Eventually his pain was more than he could bear and he made the decision to take his own life with a kitchen knife. We are not certain how this weapon came to be in the Engine Room.

On a personal note, we would like to express our appreciation and gratitude to those on board that this was an isolated incident and that all other crew appear to have pulled together in the face of this terrifying emergency.

The grim truth of what had actually come to pass in the Engine Room was not brought to light until the video surveillance was reviewed several days later.

Saturday November 26th, 2011

The exercise:

The penultimate day of Space Week brings us to a four line poem about: isolated/isolation.

I know some of you chose to work your Two Haiku Tuesday into your prose and you're welcome to do something similar today, especially with tomorrow being the grand finale.

I'm too stubborn to do anything of the sort, of course.

Mine:

You're right where I want you,

No one else is near;

Scream as loud as you wish,

Not a soul will hear.

Friday November 25th, 2011

The exercise:

Space week draws nearer to its conclusion with four lines of prose about: the escort.

I'm sticking directly to the challenge, but I'm willing to let you guys slide if you wish to expand a little since this could be a rather constricting day. But maybe keep it to four paragraphs?

Alternatively you could view this as a chance to ramp up the tension with just four lines as we head into the final two days. Up to each of you though, as always.

Mine:

"Mechanic Second Class Higgins," Sanchez replied with a strained smile, struggling to contain her contempt for the incompetent grease monkey who had interrupted her thoughts.

"Heading for the Engine Room?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder for no apparent reason.

"Yes," came the reply after two soft hisses from her IES and no reasonable lies coming to mind.

"Me too," Higgins said a little too eagerly, "and I'll be happy to escort you!"

Thursday November 24th, 2011

The exercise:

Space week continues with the prompt: adjustments.

In order for mine (and, awesomely enough, pretty much everybody's in the comments as well) to make sense, you'll have to go back to Monday and the beginning of Space Week and read from there, as each of us is working on our own continuous story.

I have no idea how I'll manage to wrap all this up with Sunday's post, but I'm determined to find a way. So, consider that fair warning that my writing on the last day could be like two thousand words.

I'm mostly joking.

Mine:

It had been a difficult adjustment after Eric had left. His declaration that he was accepting a promotion to Head Engineer on another ship had blindsided her and left her to raise her son alone.

Eric may not have been the father, but he had made promises when he first entered her life. Now, on top of her motherly responsibilities, she was burdened by feelings of betrayal, violation, and bitterness.

And now this. Faced with a ticking time bomb with only three options, the last of which was utterly out of the question.

1. They both would die.

2. She would die so that he would live.

3. He would die so...

She couldn't even finish the thought.

Looking up from where he lay sleeping on his bunk, his IES making it seem like he was a patient in the infirmary, the clock embedded on the wall of their compartment showed her there was only six hours of oxygen left for both of them. Which left just five hours for her.

If Eric hadn't left he could have saved us both.

She knew it wasn't a fair thought, but she was too angry and frightened to care. Rising from her seat at their shared desk, she moved silently to the door of their room. She paused to look back at her boy before exiting, reluctant to be apart from him for even a moment.

But she still had her duties to attend to and the call had come in for some adjustments to be made on Engine Three. No point sacrificing herself and then have a ship failure render it meaningless.

Leaving the room and turning left, a thought crept into her mind and took hold with barbed, icy fingers. It nearly stopped her in her tracks but she forced herself to continue walking as it tumbled over and over through her head.

What if there was a delay and her son needed more than an extra hour of air?

She was so troubled by this possibility that she didn't hear her name being called somewhere behind her until the third try.

"First Class Mechanic Sanchez!"