One thing I've learned from writing small – wonderful surprises can lurk round the corner, like linguistic sharks ready to bite with their brilliance.
So it goes this week, and I've found it necessary to go to the Twitter of several of last week's writers and SHOUT AT THEM. It's a justified response to delight and surprise, I feel, and if not I have done it all the same.
I hope you join the writers one of these times, I really do. I like shouting nice things and I'm anxiously wanting to shout them at you.
Spoilers, Surprises, Stories That Thrill
In answer to the get up now writing challenge last week – I really encourage you to go read them all – may I present wee snippets from the fuller stories shared? I may.
Get up. C’mon, on your feet. The house is burning… It’s a nice home, all things considered. It’s worth saving. As are most of its occupants—seven and a half billion, give or take. Plus the countless non-human denizens, too.
So, yeah. It’s on you, on all of us. And time is running out.
Get up now.
“Darling.” Callie frowned and shook her head as if to clear it as she thought. “Are there… No. Of course there are. Darling, how many subroutines have you written for yourself?”
The first few bars of the prelude of Bach’s first cello concerto grace the air before Callie yells.
“One thousand, two hundred and fifty four.”
Robbi never got to Bright or Öpik, instead she found herself on Palace, prospecting on one of the planets gem mountains. If a sentient was tough enough, they could make their fortune on the steep sides of one of those arid peaks and she was double tough.
Funny it took her so long to realise that, for a sentient who needed little oxygen, she damn well couldn’t breathe.
One thing she’s grateful for: she got rich before she fell.
Someone is kneeling before me, their face swimming into view, blurred and out of focus. I feel like I have seen the man before.
I think I might be dying and maybe the man needs to know.
“I think I’m dying.”
“Seriously, Kyle, you ridiculous drama llama. You had one beer and were in bed by 11:30. Class starts in 45 minutes. Get up!”
“What if the kids make fun of me?” Kel stepped into the coverall and zipped up the front.
“Why in stars would they do that?” Ell’a was holding out a pair of shoes for Kel.
“I dunno… because I’m an orphan? Because I’m half Miralan and I’m all green?” Kel took the shoes and put them on.
Ell’a put her arm around her granddaughter, “You think you’re the first orphan to go to school here on Yavin? Sadly, not even close. And so what if you’re half Miralan. And all green? You’re all perfect just as you are.”
Warm sleeping bag snuggles. Unzipping the tent, reveling in the green, the crispness of the air, the mist on the water of the lake. It’s time to get up now, but. Lingering. Existing. Breathing. Treasuring.
“Get up now, the days a-wasting!”
He threw the blanket over his eyes, the flashlight beam seemed to drill directly until his head.
“Get up now. The boat’s gonna leave without you.”
She took his hand, and kicked as he pulled. Together they maneuvered her over the side.
“Get up now, you don’t want to miss this. The ladder is over there.”
As ever, it's your turn now. What do you say?