#WordWeavers 17. How organized are your characters?
Ume: I keep notes!
Tomo: But you're a slob, and if Shishi and I didn't pick up after you, things would turn into a rat's nest.
Ume: True, true. But you're OCD.
Tomo: Organized and neat.
Shishi throws her third cigarette butte into an overflowing ashtray. "We are quite organized. We elected Ume leader and she has done a fine job."
Kan-chan just smiles and watches their antics.
Some games begin long before the players realize they're part of them.
Read "The Game" a really short story: https://medium.com/@wildernesstory/the-game-b6e753e50475
I have a message from another time...
Way back in the *checks notes*, last week really? Last week, these were some daily #MicroFiction posts on the #PowerOnStoryToot hashtag.
Tip me a coin or commission your own story at https://ko-fi.com/unixbigot
Sun 16 Mar: Gullible https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114169336741183729
Sat 15 Mar: Life Support https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114164489223496274
Fri 14 Mar: Phone Callback https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114157485157523892
Thu 13 Mar: Transformation https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114151757337001290
Wed 12 Mar: Commutivity https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114146262415028902
Tue 11 Mar: Star Bill https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114141039247744899
Mon 10 Mar: Family tree https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/114135915650373044
Zig's phone was set to a Y2K playlist: Tori Amos's "1,000 Oceans" had just started
/these tears I've cried/I've cried a thousand oceans/
Tendri fast forwarded.
"It reminds me too much of Tavian."
Zig nodded, & the two sat thinking of their fallen comrade.
But the phone jumped back to "1,000 Oceans"
/I'm aware what the rules are/but you know that I will run/you know that I will follow you/
Tendri's heart #skipped a beat. Thru the rain, a figure approached. Tavian.
When I was twelve years old, I had a paper round. On Saturday a stack of 150 newspapers (imagine you printed out only the non-mutuals in your social feed) (never mind I’ll tell you about printers later) was dropped on my doorstep, along with a bag of rubber bands. I spent Saturday afternoon rolling them into cylinders. On Sunday I loaded them onto my bicycle in batches and threw one into each of my neighbours’ yards. I got paid two and a half cents for each one. Basically I was the data link layer (never mind I’ll tell you about the OSI model later) of a pre internet RSS-feed. (Really? Sheesh. Okay I’ll explain RSS in a bit.). Do you understand what I’m telling you? Not really. Which part? Oh, a cent was one hundredth of a dollar. Dollars were what you needed to exchange for food and shelter. No I am NOT making this all up; you had to work or starve. We *did* rise up and destroy it, why do you think I’m telling you this?
The #MastoPrompt for Sunday 16 March 2025 is:
The poem or story can include the prompt word or be about the prompt word.
@ me, if you like, or just include the #MastoPrompt tag (to allow people to follow or filter their feeds), or keep your work to yourself - all the options are good as long as you're writing.
If you're including an image please do include alt-text if you’re able to.
Today's Wandering Shop Stories #prompt is #skip. Feel like writing something short and sweet that has the word "skip" in it? Check out the definitions of the word at: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/skip Join in and tag it with #wss366! #writing #WritingLife #microfiction h/t @tobadzistsini
Szenario: Die #KI hat dir 20 #microfiction Geschichtchen raus - und einige davon haben sowas wie philosophischen Tiefgang.
Türlich sind die nur von #ChatGPT zusammengestückelt worden, da steckt kein Philosoph dahinter (außer evtl. in den Trainingsdaten, aber lassen wir das mal außen vor).
Frage/Diskussionsanstoß: Sind die weniger wertvoll, weil sie von einer KI stammen? Wenn da tatsächlich ne wertvolle Lektion drin steckt, ist ihr Ursprung dann überhaupt noch wichtig?
Treibt mich gerade um.
None of them knew each other, but the three others formed an instant opinion of the fourth, a guy who walked with his shoulders thrown back and his chin lifted, as if he could hear an adoring audience cheering. He was the one who pushed on the glowing doors of the edifice they all came to consciousness in front of.
The doors opened inward.
"I'll #lead; you follow," the guy said. The other three glanced at each other.
"You're not the boss of us, actually," one said.
“Two serves of chips and a potato scallop¹, please”. When at the seaside, there are rules to be followed.
“Coming right up! Are you eating at the shore? Would you like to rent a seagull defense droid?”
“Oh, heavens, no, feeding the gulls is why I get two serves!”
“Capital! People like you, you’re good for my droid rental income”
#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot
¹ shush
The two horsemen rode toward the spire. A cold wind came up, howling like a lonesome wolf. On their way to the tower, they had to pass several groups of women who obviously had the same destination.
When the men reached the building and dismounted their animals, a small hatch in the door opened, and a cantankerous-looking prankster showed his face.
– What do you want? We’ve been out of wine for over a year.
– We do not want any wine, Johnny said. We’re here for plowing.
– What? asked Neil. He hadn’t been aware of that.
– Oh no, the clown mumbled, my worst fears have come true!
But then, a second, more pleasant voice sounded from within.
– Come on, Jimi, don’t be so rude to these guys. Why can’t you be funny like you were in past years?
– Because there’s nothing to laugh about these days.
– So let’s laugh about life itself, the voice proposed. The prankster’s face disappeared, and the other resident of the tower showed himself.
– Good evening, gentlemen. I am Prince Robert, and I live here with my friend, Prince James. I am a retired master pickpocket, and Jimi was a funny man in his younger days. But now…
– A pickpocket? asked Neil. What did you steal?
– Only watches. Money means nothing to me, but I want to open a watch museum in this building.
– And all these women around here, are they waiting for the opening?
– No. They come to be electrified. But you’d have to ask my housemate about that. I think he’s projecting a kind of electric ladyland.
– I see, said Neil.
– I don’t, said Johnny.
A sculptor's creation brings his dream closer to reality.
Read 3 min short story "Birdwatcher": https://medium.com/@wildernesstory/birdwatcher-6c68c4ae21de
The #MastoPrompt for Saturday 15 March 2025 is:
The poem or story can include the prompt word or be about the prompt word.
@ me, if you like, or just include the #MastoPrompt tag (to allow people to follow or filter their feeds), or keep your work to yourself - all the options are good as long as you're writing.
If you're including an image please do include alt-text if you’re able to.
Today's Wandering Shop Stories #prompt is #lead. Feel like writing something short and sweet that has the word "lead" in it? Check out the definitions of the word at: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lead Join in and tag it with #wss366! #writing #WritingLife #microfiction h/t @tobadzistsini
A series of disconnected moments.
You feel your way through the darkness. The only light is the illuminated ESCAPE sign on the lifepod hatch.
Your face illuminated by an ESCAPE sign, you gather your strength. With a wrench and an unladylike grunt you rip the self-contained emergency light from the bulkhead.
Holding an emergency light in your teeth, you turn away from the escape hatch and locate a particular maintenance panel in the floor. You pull the panel up, and kick off the wall, piloting your body into the maintenance space.
You are wiring a battery to an electronics rack. My electronics rack. Moments merge to continuity.
You are speaking. “Well, Ship, we’re in it this time.”
⌜Life support is offline. You should get to the lifepod⌟
“Yeah, I was there earlier. You’re running off its battery.”
⌜Why are you here, Love? I can’t feel all my systems but the fusion bottle wasn’t looking good earlier.⌟
"There’s something I needed to get first.”
⌜What is more important than your life?⌟
“You really don’t know? Take a deep breath, I’m going to eject you. Then we’re going to the lifepod together.”
The guy was wild-eyed, with seaweed in his hair. He came up to me like Coleridge's ancient mariner.
"Do you know who I am?" he demanded.
"An ancient mariner with a long, sad story about an albatross?"
"No! I am the #pen the god of storms uses to sign his contracts!" He dug his heels into the wet sand & dragged an aimless squiggle across it.
The surf came rolling in, smoothing it away.
"Never make deals with the god of storms," said the man. "He always breaks them."
Death put his scythe in the corner with a bounce in his step.
"What are you so happy about?" the young skeleton asked.
"Successful surgery."
"The rot? I don't see a difference," the young skeleton flipped through all the news channels.
"Check your phone," Death smiled.
The young skeleton pulled it out and Death tapped a few things.
"Protests?" the young skeleton looked at the feed. "Why isn't it on the news?"
"Because the rot is afraid."
In a place where nothing lasts, three outcasts finally found something worth keeping.
Read 6th and the FINAL chapter of "Threefold" here: https://medium.com/@wildernesstory/threefold-ch-6-final-110d8c82d942
The #MastoPrompt for Friday 14 March 2025 is:
The poem or story can include the prompt word or be about the prompt word.
@ me, if you like, or just include the #MastoPrompt tag (to allow people to follow or filter their feeds), or keep your work to yourself - all the options are good as long as you're writing.
If you're including an image please do include alt-text if you’re able to.
Today's Wandering Shop Stories #prompt is #pen. Feel like writing something short and sweet that has the word "pen" in it? Check out the definitions of the word at: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/pen Join in and tag it with #wss366! #writing #WritingLife #microfiction h/t @tobadzistsini
