Okay, I know it has been awhile since my last post. Of course that is partly because I have been fighting a strong sinus problem, caused by up and down weather. All that really made me want to do is sleep. That did manage to slow down some of writing, but I have been able to write on, and off at work. Even though it has made me realize I seem to write more, if I write by hand using a pen. I will admit, I’m curious as to why that is? Anyone seem to have an easier time being creative on paper, than by using digital means?
while in that oddly rapid spurts of writing I have been focusing on two short story ideas. One is a traditional science fiction idea, about humanities’ first contact with an extraterrestrial race, and the after-effects. The other is more of expansion on one of my six sentence stories. With some degree of altering, I have manged to build a post-apocalyptic style world focusing on the journey of the last surviving soldier after a devastating slaughter of a battle. Honestly, that has been an oddly exhilarating blast to write. Downside, I don’t have a title yet for either piece, but that is something I can always work on later. A short preview of it is below (formatting to distinguish only):
Crows encircled me, as I stood the last man standing in a field of corpses. The stench of gunpowder, still lingered instill, wet, and silent air.. Bodies of friends and foes, rested around me in silent death. A forceful breeze carried the distant sound of horses, galloping could be heard through the wind. Scavengers, no doubt come to steal from the dead. Blasts of agony and sorrow echoed through my body, as stood up letting the cleansing rain fall over me.
The Scavengers were the one thing both the Bladeslingers and the Technos Communion despised completely. While thief original aims to rebuild civilization were noble, they had greatly deviated from that over the past few decades. Now they were nothing more than organized animals, that pillaged from both the dead, the living, and the remains of the old world. Sometimes taking ideas, weapons, and technology that was best left in the hands of the past.
Using the last injection of synthetic adrenaline, I walked checking the what remained of my supplies after the battle. My MK-9R energy pistols, had enough power cells left over to give me about one-hundred shots. I had to limit their use if use if I wanted to head back to the small base we had, about six days away from where I was. The standard Curveous saber for Bladeslingers, was still sharp, with a viable edge. With remorse I searched the remains of my comrades that were nearby, looking for anything I could remove quickly.
After a few minutes a loud, singular beep broke the silence, hanging in the air from an unknown source. It took me a short while to find the source of the unexpected noise. A wrist based device of some kind, attached to a fallen Technos Communion commander, judging the three stars etched onto plate around his right shoulder. The screen of the thing was glowing from underneath, for some reason. Six unmarked bronze colored knobs were around the encased screen. Four directly below it, and the other two were on the upper right side. I moved each knob individually until the beep stopped.
The beep was replaced by a thick, throaty voice demanding, “Report now, Commander Newton, report? How does the battle go? Do you need reinforcements?”
With reluctance I responded, “Your commander is dead, whoever you are. This wasn’t a battle, it was a slaughter. Only I remain alive, for reasons I do not know.”
The voice went silent for five minutes before returning inquiring,”Than who are you? A fellow Technos brother, a Bladeslinger, or have you arrived with the dreadful, monstrous bastards the Scavengers?”
I proudly answered “Bladeslinger, fourth class Orion of the Black Dragon Battalion.”