Lost in The BoZone - Too

Broken Man - Terrible Minds Challenge

2012-01-12T10:03:00.000-08:00

Challenge from Terrible Minds
For Friday 1/13/12- use song title from random song pick from list - 500 word limit
My song title was "Broken Man" - Rage Against the Machine
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Carson sat with his back against the ruined front wall of what had been a nice upscale McManision a year ago. He was a sitting duck here and he knew it. It would not take long for one of the random flitterbugs to spot his heat signature. He had to get underground and do it soon. He could not stay here upside like this much longer.

He had to wait for daylight. His heat signature would be harder to spot and it seemed there were fewer flitterbugs out and about. It had taken Humans at least 6 months before they caught on to this one weakness of the Urigions, or Uriggers as they became to be known. Their day was Humanity's night. Their physiology juxtaposed against Mankind's told a story of a species from a planet and existence completely alien to the Human mind.

Finally after some had been killed and cut open, the high IQ’s still left among Humanity’s ranks figured Urigon was a planet of low light, low gravity and was very noisy in the wavelengths humans were used to. Uriggers hearing dropped to deaf below the sound of a dog whistle and their vision stopped at the infrared level. The visible light Earthmen favored seemed to be poison for the Uriggers. They only stepped out of their sealed encampments at night, and only on cool nights. Of course their machines emulated their species' particular physical eccentricities.

Did this make the Uriggers superior? Or inferior? Carson once wondered this. The Uriggers had certainly shown their technology was better. The mankind that was left existed now underground in forgotten mine shafts, natural caverns, and deep basements under destroyed tall buildings. Once dominant, Man had been reduced to competing with rats in order to survive.

Carson had quickly forgotten to worry about the fate of his world. His only concern was self preservation. Making it back to his hole in the ground was his focus right now. He concentrated on remaining still this last hour before the Moon turned over control to the Sun.

Something rubbed against his leg. Carson looked down. A righteously well fed rat had it's head buried up his right trouser leg. Carson panicked, but only inside. He managed to remain perfectly still. The rat bit him. Carson flinched. Still he kept his wits. Slowly he brought his machete up and then quickly down, cutting the rat in half. A needle of light burned a hole through Carson's brain. He slumped over.

~*~

Urigions are nothing if not environmentally conscious. It took them several Epochs, more than a few downfalls, but eventually they figured it out. It was possible to hunt a species to extinction. Lleg and Brnk walked up to Carson's body. Lleg sliced Carson's right hand off with a beam knife.

"It's a shame hunting season ends tomorrow. But if we want to keep this place primal and full of game, we have to let it heal. Besides, with this hand, I'm tagged out."

(500 words on the nose)
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Lying Truth - Indie Ink Challenge - 100 Words

2012-01-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

Facts intermingled with conjecture and forgone conclusions cast Truth aside in favor of expedient knee jerked solutions. Lost in a sea of deception, specious goals are massaged by lying hands, replacing Honesty with Truth’s ugly step sister, the Half Truth.

The Midway Squawkers and Snake Oil Salesmen insist and demand the Half Truth into our lives hoping their deception lasts long enough for them to cash in their nickels and dimes.

Assaulted long enough, we allow recent lies to become our New Truth. Delusion casts itself in stone and merry populations dance around it happy as if they had brains.

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For the Indie Ink Writing Challenge this week, Sherree challenged me with "There's a world of difference between truth and facts. Facts can obscure the truth. Maya Angelou" and I challenged Catherine with "Water is the theme - either too much or too little - any setting"
_________________For Challenge week 1/6/12 to 1/13/12________________

Some Below the Fold Thoughts on the Piece

Along with the rules of the prompt, I usually write down snippets of thought pertaining to the story or essay I want to write. I do this more often when I really have no idea of what I want to write. I hope that by seeing these random thoughts that may or may not be connected to the prompt, a story will cross my mind.

I leave these snippets at the top to help remind me of what I might want to include. For this challenge, I dutifully began a story, then stopped. I kept coming back to Maya Angelou's quote and the phrases and words I had written down to jog me in the right direction. Her quote was so concise and utterly complete, I thought I should try to be also. Thus I decided to limit my effort this week to 100 words, a style of flash I really enjoy. Regardless, this is what I came up with this week.

Chicago Likes Things Tidy - F3 Cycle 62

2012-01-07T02:46:00.000-08:00

Flash Fiction Friday Challenge

Prompt: Write a story set in the 40′s or 50′s where the protagonist is addicted to something
Genre: Pulp Crime or Pulp Romance - I picked crime
Word Limit: 1,800 - Actually finished with 1794 words
Deadline: Wednesday, January 11, 2012 at 9:00 pm EST

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Rip looked up the front of the five floor brownstone on East 173rd in the Bronx. He looked at the slip of paper in his hand. "Fifth Floor - back apt." Then under it, “Ask for Gus”. He looked again up the five floors, every window hanging wide open in respect to the brutal summer of 1943. Rip pulled a grimy handkerchief out of his back pocket, removed his hat and wiped the running sweat from his forehead. He took one more anguished look up and started climbing the steps.

Plodding up the stairs, Rip considered why criminals always set up shop in the dumbest of places. Here was a stand alone five story walk up and the flounder not only deals his drugs here but also runs his counterfeit gas ration card operation on the fifth floor. Just what kind of brainiac was this clown anyway? No way out but down these stairs or some rickety steel fire escape out back that may or may not be safe to even let the cat out on. Gasping and red faced, Rip finally reached the fifth floor. He wondered if he’d be able to get some free smack along with the fake ration cards he was there to pick up.

On the landing Rip collected himself. He took a moment to re-wipe his brow, pull up his britches, and run his right hand up under his left pit to make sure his gun was still there. Rip performed this unconscious ritual every time he was involved in criminal activities in a new location or meeting with someone he did not know. This visit would entail both. With a final few tugs readjusting his crotch, he headed down the dim hallway to the back apartment.

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Turn Left and Look Up - Indie Ink Challenge

2012-01-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

Avery hated the cold. He hated being broke worse. That he didn't have to worry about rent, food, or even clothes had nothing to do with it. Avery did not like owning empty pockets. When his agent called with a photo shoot involving ski wear, he jumped on it. The gig paid eight grand and he got a free weekend in Vail. He grabbed his ready bag, left a note for Marta Sugar Mama and headed to Miami International for the last flight to Denver.

Avery never considered that women found him attractive and men envied him until he had dropped out of high school ten years ago and hitch hiked from Buffalo to the Big Apple. He had no plan or idea of what he was going to do. All he knew was whatever it was wasn't going to be done in Buffalo. That first night he was hit on by two different gay blades and one older woman at a bar near Times Square. He went home with the woman. Three weeks later he was still massaging her feet and her libido, only he was doing it in Palm Beach. He had finally left the hated cold behind him.

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The Realm of Possibility - F3 - Cycle 61

2012-01-04T14:15:00.000-08:00

Elder Jacob Bean closed the banned copy of the Scripture. He understood why the second book had been outlawed during the Troubles. Harsh times called for harsh measures. The clearly defined rules found in the first book were perfect in their simplicity and dovetailed well with the brutal measures taken to fulfill the Great Elder’s prophecy of the Final Reformation. He could not understand though why owning such an innocuous collection of harmless fables was still on the list of capital offenses. Would not a good caning suffice?

Dreams Do Come True

2011-12-29T18:34:00.000-08:00

"Keep me in the loop." Arthur rang off and went back to studying the recent siesmic report. He noted with some satisfaction the intensity of the after shocks seemed to be fading and were fewer and farther between since the last report two hours ago. Well, that was some good news. Maybe now he could catch some sleep. The worst was over.

~*~

Mrs Kildane, Arthur's mother, was a seasoned survivor of earthquakes. She experienced her first as a child living in the San Fernando area in 1961. She was ready for this one. The first tremor drove her outside and away from the five story building she and her husband of 40 years were living in. She made sure to not use the elevator. Good thing too, she could hear people trapped somewhere near the third floor. Holding her "Important Box" she hit Sixth Street just as the second and much larger tremor hit the Mission Bay neighborhood in San Francisco. The shock knocked her off her feet cracking her left hip. Her husband was still out somewhere running errands.

Rudy - Indie Ink Challenge

2011-12-28T05:05:00.000-08:00

Five years in a row Rudy had been voted the best Red Cap on the line from Grand Central Station in New York City right through to the LaSalle Street Station in Chicago. His behavior like his uniform was always spotless. His smile was always quick and pleasant. And his ability to solve baggage problems became mythical tales told in station break rooms from coast to coast. He remembered all the regulars by name and treated the many travelers just passing through like old friends.

Many times early in his career, the company had offered Rudy the opportunity to leave the baggage to others and step into a management role. Rudy refused. More than one train executive had tried to steal him for their own station. Rudy would not budge. This station was his home and for the brief moments travelers came thorough his house, they were his family.

The Wing Suit

2011-12-23T20:52:00.000-08:00

From Thursday 12/22/11 Thinking Ten Prompt

Jack's stomach knotted hard when he opened the cheap metal wardrobe in the garage. His wing suit was missing. He knew immediately who had taken it.............

"Tommy!" Jack ran back into the house almost taking out his mom who was busy with some kitchen drudgery of one kind or another.

"Jack, slow down. No running in the........" Jack had already made it up the stairs and was well beyond her voice. He quickly checked Tommy's room. He opened his closet and looked under his bed. No Tommy. Standing in the middle of the Tommy's room, panic and fear of what might come twirled out of control in his mind.

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Till Death Do Us Part - 100 Words

2011-12-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

From the Wednesday prompt over at Thinking Ten - 11/21/11

Carla stared at her half empty wine glass. She had expected another excuse not to be home for the intimate supper she had planned. Yet here he was cheerfully suggesting she relax on the sofa. He would clear the table.

“You’re going to divorce me aren’t you?”

“Why would you think that?”

John came in holding a dishrag and a coaster. “Use this. No rings. Your rule, remember?”

Carla set her glass on the coaster. John threw the dish rag around her throat and strangled the life out of her.

“Divorce? No my dear, I take my marriage vows seriously.”
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Wednesday, Words, Inc.:

table, ring, glass, wine

At 12 minutes I had 143 words - It took another hour to get it to this point.

I find that no matter what my plan is going in, my stories never finish according to that plan. This was actually supposed to be a 100 words that would be warm and fuzzy. Uh, guess I'm just not in a warm and fuzzy mood.

Compatible

2011-12-21T14:23:00.000-08:00

Flash Fiction Friday - Cycle #60

Caleb Winters sat in his wheel chair on a dock that crudely interrupted the flat calm of Harpshead Pond. His presence and the dock the only proof Mankind even knew of this peaceful place. A loon cried off to his left and dragonflies swarmed in manic flight wolfing down mosquitoes foolish enough to be out and about. Caleb spotted his bobber begin to bounce.

Caleb's fishing pole was stuck in the rod holder Harold had zip tied to his chair a week earlier. Learning to fish with one hand had been difficult, but over the last seven days he came up with a system and yesterday he finally caught his limit. One more now and he would reach his limit today also. He pulled the rod out and yanked hard setting the hook. He immediately returned the pole in the holder to brace it. Awkwardly he began to reel the line in.

Decisive Action

2011-12-20T12:20:00.000-08:00

I have decided that this blog will become the repository, the depository, the toilet I place most fiction I come up with from now on. In that this decision is not one of Life or Death, I reserve the right to undecide my decision if I at some point in the future decide to. The decision is up to me, not you. You can only decide to either read it or not read it.

Not sure why I am doing this. The reasons I came up with not 24 hours ago escape me now. But the urge to do it still insists on me following through. So to anyone out there who happens to be interested, "Lost in the BoZone - Dimension Two" is now back online and hopefully going to be getting fatter.

As there is nothing on here yet, I promise nothing but more words.

We'll see..............................................

You Are in the Other Dimension

2008-10-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

If you have punched up this blog hoping to find the real "Lost in the BoZone", what you really have done is enter into another time warp continuum where there is nothing to see, nothing to do, and nowhere to go. Call it an undeveloped universe in search of a Donald Trump. I recommend you turn around and go back from whence you came. Or you can punch this button and be fast forwarded to the here and now. See you on the other side.

An Aside - Feel free to leave a comment as a sign you were here. Perhaps in 10,000 years someone will take notice of this unaltered and virgin territory and will contact you or your descendants.