Tuesday’s Tale, 7/26/2016.

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Alright, another Tuesday which means another part of the tale. That means more space! Who’s up for more space? Five minutes on the clock, and away we go.

There was nothing around his chosen landing site, of course, he preferred not to sandwich himself in by landing near mountains or strange jungles. Mountains had rockslides and strange jungles were often teeming with hostile life. So a desert was the best choice; with a climate controlled suit, and easy access to plentiful water, deserts had the least issues.

Of course, while miners could mine in a desert or badlands, and it was probably preferred, no colonist could live long in an alien desert; the amount of supplies needing to be dropped would be astronomically expensive. He snickered a little at his own joke as he stepped off the ship.

Nothing but sand and rock, strangely colored. Just the way he liked it.

Not a whole lot to go on, but meh; had some issues needing resolved when I sat down to write. (Isn’t that always what happens?) Time elapsed is four minutes and 59 seconds. See you next week!

Writer’s Quote Wednesday, 7/20/2016.

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Here we go, another week, another mini-story backed by a quote:

Well, it was over. Twenty years of effort gone in an instant. Reduced to a small box of office supplies; he didn’t even have the small pictures, the photos of the family most other did. He had worked for them for twenty years, and because of one mistake, it was all over.

He had to find another job just before retirement.

He dropped the box off in his battered car and drove straight home. He didn’t snag it from the car, there was no point. The afternoon was spent working on his resume, drink in hand. Nothing would happen if he just gave up, like that one lady said:

“At the end of the day, all you can hope for is to go on. The older I get, the more I realize that just keeping on keeping on is what life’s all about.” – Janis Ian.

He had a new job the next day – seemed his management skills were in higher demand than he realized.

And that’s it. As always, this is for Silver Threading at:

https://silverthreading.com/category/writers-quote-wednesday-writing-challenge/

See you next week.

Tuesday’s Tale, 7/19/2016.

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Alright, Tuesday morning here. Finally got a story closed last week, written start to finish five minutes at a time. It won’t really stand up to a real book of mine (or anyone else)but for what it is, it’s a masterpiece.

So it’s time to do it all over again. This time with space. No title, because I suck at those and feel it is probably better to have you tell me what the title should be.

He checked the screens. The readout for SD-493 filled it much as the planet itself filled his unshuttered window. It was ugly, he decided: Vomit yellow and rust red, with only a few cumulus​ clouds to break the monotony. A fitting contrast to the data which showed one of the few planets capable of being terraformed to Earth standard completely, and rich in mineral resources including osmium, palladium, and iridium.

Chances were it had a few other rare metals too, just not in large enough quantities to scout out from orbit. If it wasn’t a system glitch from the probe, just having the first three in the quantities recorded was enough to justify a full colony.

The planet had a layer of rock, that much he could tell from here, which meant the rig he used to surf gas giants wasn’t needed here. He sent down a more specialized probe; better to do things by the book than rush in and die to something unforeseen but easily discovered; The Carter Trust had lost a new kid last week to some cave-in or something on Antilles Prime, and that was a known world. SD-493 was well and truly out in the boonies.

….And that’s it. Five minutes exactly, give or take a fraction of a second. Enjoy, and see you next week.

Writer’s Quote Wednesday, 7/13/2016.

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Alright, another Wednesday, another quote. In this case, that means some flash fiction. So away we go. warning, this one will be a little dark.

His hands were bloody. Instinct was one thing, but hands were unsuited to holding liquid inside a broken vessel. And his vessel was very broken at the moment.

They were all around him now, and there was no escape – even if he could move to escape at more than a crawl. The spot he was in was under cover at least, and the hole he found himself in ensured the sniper wouldn’t get a second chance to make that good first impression.

His wallet was in his front pocket, which was lucky. He drew it out, fumbling it a little. Opening it revealed the thing he wanted to see. His blood smeared the plastic but the picture itself remained pristine.

She was ten and smiling, with a hat on and a piece of cake in front of her. A time before she hated him. A happier, simpler time, before he was wrong about everything, before the both left and he buried himself in his work. Tearing down regimes and hunting terrorists.

The grenade wasn’t a complete surprise, but he felt a surge of anger; it was a waste since all they had to do was wait, just a little bit! Were they really that impatient?

He felt the truth of it as the device went off; the old Bob Dylan quote: “Take care of your memories, for you cannot relive them.”

And that’s it. Sorry about any feels for this one. As always it’s for Silver threading at:

https://silverthreading.com/category/writers-quote-wednesday-writing-challenge/

See you next week.