Category: 300 Days

No. 5: Mittens: Ninja at Large

Write about the secret life of your pet.

She watched and waited. The hooman was still in the room and hadn’t noticed her and she had no intention of getting caught. This hooman liked to mess with her fur and she didn’t like that. She worked hard to get every bit just how she liked it. She still had time before she needed to go on with her mission. The hooman sat down and played with the shiny glowey thing that made the cool noises when she sat on it. Now was her chance. She popped out of her hide out and dashed through the room.

She wasn’t seen. The hooman didn’t even notice that she was there. Hehe, she was awesome.

She wasn’t sure of what her mission was going to be today, but no matter what it was going to be awesome. Everything she did was awesome. That was why she was the queen of the place. Everything here belonged to her just because she was so awesome.

Oh, what was that smell? Now that is way more delicious than the tribute the hoomans put out for her and the old one. It smelled… divine. She snuck under the desk. No one ever saw her hear. Her fur blended perfectly into the shadows. She slid around the soft fuzzy thing, and there is was.

It was displayed perfectly on the black pedestal. This wasn’t for her. She knew that, but she had to have it anyways. She crouched low and waited. Patience was the key here. She waited as the picture box changed rapidly. She waited as the hooman set a drink aside.

The hooman got up. Now was her chance. She slinked up to the pedestal and carefully hooked a claw into the treat and pulled. It was way bigger than she thought. She started eating it as fast as she could. It was juicy and wonderfull.

“Hey!” Hands wrapped around her middle and lifted. “That was mine. Bad cat.” She was carried to the door and tossed out. “You can stay out.” She licked her lips. Banishment. She had survived banishment before. She licked her claws and started grooming herself as the door shut her out. It was totally worth it.

No. 4: The Aspect of the Biome

If you had to choose one of the following biomes to live in, which would you choose, and why: desert, rainforest, deep sea, arctic, mountains, tropics.

Biomes is actually one of the things that I often neglect while I am worldbuilding. They are one of the most influential and necessary ingredients to any fictional world. I tend to get so focussed on plot and character development, that I forget that the world in which my characters travel and live in, is a character in and of itself.

There is so much to unpack when thinking about a biome, from the temperature, to the seasons and it has a huge impact on the lives of the people and creatures that live in it. The biome of the world even determines what obstacles that my protagonist has to over come. I have to thank my hobby of playing Dungeon and Dragons for much of my awareness of what a biome is and of the types of cultures that spring from that type of environment. I also have to thank all of the authors that I read for their wonderful works. If it wasn’t for these two things, I would suck way more than I do when it comes to this aspect of world building.

Now, to answer the question. If I were a character in one of my own stories, I would live in the mountains.

This is because of all of the biomes that are listed above, it is the mountains that offer the most in terms of vegetation, water and wildlife. There are often species located in the mountains that are found in no other place and it is super easy to imagine coming across a creature that no one has seen before. It is just as easy to imagine a hidden valley where a whole civilization exists. What can I say? I am a explorer at heart, living in a world where everything has already been found.

No. 3: No Good Deed…

A character finds an odd looking egg in the woods. When they take it home, they never could have predicted what was inside it.

It was an odd thing. It was smooth to the touch and pulsed when he lay his hand on it. It thrummed under his fingers, and gave him the sense that it was trying to talk to him. He knew that this was the real world, and that this wasn’t a dragon’s egg waiting to hatch and lead him to a great destiny, but it was an egg. He didn’t know what kind of egg or even guess of what kind of creature would lay such a thing, but he was quite sure that it was an egg.

He took a great deal of time getting the egg home. He didn’t want to break it, and the egg was heavy. It was far heavier than something its size was supposed to be. He guessed that it had double the density of iron, but he couldn’t be sure. His kids were going to love this. He remembered their disappointment when they had worked so hard to care for a hen’s egg, only for it to fail to hatch. They had even done everything right, from keeping it warm to turning it everyday so that the chick inside wouldn’t stick to the shell.

This was a chance to make it up to them for that disappointment. This wasn’t going to be a chicken. What ever was in that egg was going to be way cooler.

He got it threw the door of the old house and leaned against the wall. He wasn’t a young man anymore. He didn’t like to think of himself as getting older, but sometimes, the world had a way of reminding him. The kids, thankfully, hadn’t come home from school yet. That gave him sometime to get things set up and surprise them.

He tossed the laundry from the good wicker basket. His wife was going to be pissed, but it was going to be worth it. He used the softest foam and lined it with the best rags in the house. To complete this little nest, he dug out the old Hudson’s bay blanket. This blanket hadn’t been used in years, but it was clean and soft and gave the nest a wholesome feel that he liked.

The kids loved the egg, right from the start and the egg loved them. His wife, wasn’t thrilled and left the thing alone. He placed the egg in the courner of the parlor, where it would be out of the way and where the fire would keep it from getting too cold.

The egg’s thrumming grew in volume as the seasons past. It glowed brighter as time went on as well. Sometimes they could see something moving inside when it glowed.

The kids took turns each night to read to the creature inside. They showed it their toys and told it all about their day. They asked him everyday, when it would hatch and he always told him that he didn’t know, because he didn’t know what kind of egg it was. It could be any of a hundred wonderful things. It could be a dinosaur, a dragon, a golden eagle. Guessing what would come out of the egg became a game which they shared.

One day, in the middle of winter, the egg dimmed and lost it’s glow. He placed his hand on the shell and felt something move inside. The egg rocked as the creature within struck the inside of the shell hard beneath his touch. The kids were still in school, it was the last day before the winter break. He hoped that they wouldn’t miss its hatching.

The egg rocked again and their was a resounding crack as the egg split open. Oh my god! It was hatching. This was it. He was going to be the first to see what kind of creature would lay such a egg.

He rushed to the kitchen and scooped his cell off the counter. He fumbled with it until he managed to get it recording video. He had to record this. He didn’t want his kids to miss it just because they had to be at school.

He focused the camera on the shaking egg. The cracks had gotten bigger and pieces of the shell had fallen away. He couldn’t tell what was inside. He stepped closer to get a clear view. The kids wear going to love this.

The egg stilled. The creature inside stilled inside the shell and paused. In one single convulsion, it heaved and the shell shattered and the creature rolled out onto the hardwood floor.

“Holy Fuck” He dropped his phone and scrambled back. It looked like a cross between a centipede and a squid. It squirmed around trailing ooze. Solid black eyes blinked and focused one him. He swallowed. “Um, hello there.”

It jumped from the floor and engulfed him. It pulled him to the ground. Like the egg, the creature was far heavier than it appeared to be and it was massively strong. He couldn’t even scream when it’s teeth found him.

No. 2: Enter the Star-Father

Write about a frail mobster searching for his lost friend in an asteroid.

The lock clicked and a slow hiss echoed through the airlock. He waited for his bodyguards to give the all clear before proceeding. He waved his attendant away. He was old, but he wasn’t stupid. One did not become the head of the family by being stupid.

The airlock opened into a dimly lit corridor. Why would anyone want to live here? He didn’t want to spend any more time on this godforsaken rock than he had to. There was business that needed his attention on Titan, and he didn’t dare send any of the ungrateful brats that called him father. As always there were somethings that one had to do himself, like coming here.

Vinnie flashed the all clear and stepped away from the door. He strolled down the ramp and took in the site. This place was a real shithole. The grey rock seemed to stretch on for forever, and the lights flickered. People actually lived here?

He tapped his comms. “Search this rock. I want him found and I want him alive and unharmed. I want you to treat him with respect.” Good help was hard to find these days. One had to make do with what one got. These were eager to please, and all to often, were more than a little trigger happy.

It was essential that he was found alive. He had given his word a long time ago and he intended to keep it. These kids, they didn’t know the first thing about honor. That is what made a man successful, the value of his word.

“Come back into the ship and let me get you out of that suit boss.” His attendant said. “It isn’t healthy for a man of your years to be out here.”

He shrugged him away. “I am fine.” They were worried about what will happen to the family if he died without a clear heir. That was why he was here. They came without question to this lifeless rock.

It didn’t take more than an hour or so. This wasn’t a big asteroid after all. He was perhaps the last alive who knew the true name of the man that they were escorting. This was a man to whom he owed his life.

“Morgan.” He smiled, offering his hand. Morgan accepted and pressed it to his lips. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes,” Morgan replied. “That it has.”

“Come. It is time for you to come home.”

Day 1 : Do Brains Taste Like Chicken?

Write about a delighted zombie.

It is light, but it is cold. But I am always cold now. I don’t really understand why. I think that I died, but I didn’t really die. Oh, there is so much that I don’t understand, so very much. I should be worried about the state of things, but I just can’t bring myself to care. I think that I need to sleep, but I am too hungry to sleep. It just smells so good.

Everything seems so fast. Those dogs are lightening fast. How did they get so fast? I try to grab one, but it is just to fast. I want to cry. All I want to do is touch one. It is so cute and fluffy and it smells really good to, not as good as the other thing, but really good all the same. All I want is just a little taste. Come closer doggy. I won’t bite. I promise. I will just take a little nibble, if only you will let me pet you. Why do you have to run so fast.

I wish that I could run that fast.

I remember running fast. It was so long ago. I had two feet then. Yes, I remember, it was Bob. Bob ate my foot. Fuck you Bob. I liked that foot. It was my favorite. Now, my legs don’t work right. I want my foot back.

Someone is shouting. I think that they are shouting at me. I try to say something back but I can’t remember how to talk. The sounds coming out of my mouth don’t make any sense. They are just sounds. I sound like a ghost, like from one of those really old movies.

Others are there. There isn’t going be enough left if I go with them. There are too many. That is okay, because, I can still smell it. They can have the shouting people. It means that I can have the hiding ones all to myself. I am too hungry to share.

They are quiet, but I find them. They did a really good job at hiding. This is like playing hide and seek. Why is it that I am always the seeker? When is it going to be my turn to hid?

Ahh, there they are. They are fast, but not as fast as the dog. People, especially the little ones are so much better than dogs. They smell better, and taste better. Oh, I am so hungry. They can’t get away. One tries to push past me, but I grab him. I like hugs. You won’t mind if I take a nibble will you? I haven’t eaten since, forever.

This is so much better fresh. Leftovers are okay, they will do in a pinch, but nothing beats fresh. The texture is still somewhat mushy, and it smells soo good. It smells better than it tastes. Why do brains always taste like chicken?