Tag / friendship

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 24: Knight and Doc

Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. Story dedicated to my friend Sam, the inspiration for Patches, and one of my oldest and best friends.

Battlefield clean-up was far from glorious. Lady Rune Lostsabre and the medic she was bound to protect, Patches, were some of the few figures standing among the dead and wounded. Rune had been prepared for gore and destruction — in the past she’d caused plenty of it herself — but you never got used to the smell. Even with the smear of ocimea oil under her nose, the reek of death still stung her nostrils.

Patches primed the scanner. A grid of blue light settled over roughly one quarter of the battlefield that was his to monitor. Rune circled him, eyes sharp, shield raised. Medics weren’t permitted to carry weapons; their protector had only shields. Rune had forgone the standard lightweight energy shields most soldiers preferred. Hers was enhanced, of course — she wasn’t stupid — but she preferred the heft of a real metal shield.

Patches’s scanner chirped, indicating that it was ready to start scanning the area. Gray light filtered over the dead bodies. Blue marked wounded allies and red marked wounded enemies. The light trickled over the area: gray, gray, gray.

Green.

Green meant alive, unhurt, and neither friend nor enemy. The rarest color in clean-up. But it was tucked underneath a pile of gray.

“Careful,” Rune warned the doc. She’d known Patches half her life now. They’d both started in Basic together. He was prone to running headlong into things without thinking of the consequences. Admittedly, Rune was similar, but it was her sworn duty to keep him alive. “Scene isn’t safe.”

“It’s never safe,” Patches said, and moved toward the green mark. Rune matched his stride, but let him roll over the dead body on top of Green.

Greens were usually civilians, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They usually were panicked or in shock, and grateful to see anyone who wasn’t pointing a weapon at them. Underneath the dead body, Green was alert. “Damn!”

He leaped to his feet. Rune had only a second to assess. Chainmail boots. Bits of armor stolen from both armies. Beads in knotted hair that were actually small explosives, and a push knife in either hand. A war scavenger. Nasty, dangerous business, but a lucrative one.

Green charged toward Patches. He thrust one of the knife points towards Patches’s neck.

Rune intercepted the scavenger in a second. Her heater shield went up, blocking Green’s first blow, then the next. Rune flicked on the dial to burn mode.

Green ran at Patches again. Rune swung her shield, bashing Green in the side of his head. He staggered, his flesh already reddening. Rune tilted the shield back and jabbed its pointed end into Green’s throat.

He fell, stunned and whimpering in pain.

Green’s color marker changed to purple. Wounded non-combatant.

“Thanks for that,” Patches said, shaking his head.

“No worries. You want me to arrest him first, or you wanna fix him up first?”

“Arrest him. Once he’s immobile we can triage the rest.”

Rune set about cuffing the scavenger, and Patches looked over the battlefield. He was duty bound to heal all he could, even the enemy. And Rune was sworn to protect him, with only a shield.

It was an ugly job. A hard one.

Rune finished with the scavenger. “You good?”

Patches sighed. “Not really.”

Rune squeezed his shoulder. “You know, when I was transferred to Med Corps. I was pissed. Then I found out you were the doc I got assigned to. And I thought, ‘Great, the trouble twins are together again.'” Patches smiled at their old nickname from Basic. “But I was glad. ‘Cause I knew you’d have my back.”

“And your blood,” Patches added with a small laugh.

Rune punched him lightly in the shoulder. She may have been a universal human donor — and living blood bag in a pinch — but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“I was glad too,” Patches said. “Cause I’d knew you’d have my back.”

“Right. Let’s do this.”

Knight and Doc went into the battlefield, fire-forged friends.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 19: Maize Maze

Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

“We’ll never find it.” Janine and I had been in the corn maze for hours. The sun was getting low and the sky was already turning pink. We’d already found the exit, but had doubled back to the center of the maze when Janine realized she’d left her phone in the center of the maze. “And the place is gonna close soon. Can we please just let someone know and head home? I’m sure someone’ll find it and call you in the morning.”

“On what phone, Hillary?” Janine snapped. Even though her earbuds weren’t connected to anything, Janine still had them in. She’d been listening to music the whole time we were in the maze.

“Give them your mom’s number. Or mine. But it’s getting seriously creepy here.” The corny Halloween decorations—plastic skeletons and scarecrows with pumpkin heads—strewn throughout the maze hadn’t bothered me in the full daylight. But in the setting sun they cast long shadows that kept making me do double-takes. The beautiful October afternoon had turned chilly and windy. I shivered. “Let’s just go.”

“My whole life is on that phone. I’m not leaving without it.”

I knew how she felt. Janine had years of photos saved on it, a ton of apps, not to mention the phone number of everyone who mattered (and a few people who didn’t). She hated to be apart from it. Even in class, when she was forced to put it away, she would put her hand in her pocket every few minutes like she was making sure it was still there.

A gust of wind blew through the stalks. Dry leaves rustled against one another. It sounded like the field whispering.

“Please.” I shivered. “Let’s go. You know this place closes at sunset.” I glanced up at the bruise-colored sky. “Which is about ten minutes from now. We need to find the exit.”

As if on cue, the PA system that had been playing “Monster Mash” shut off. All I could hear was the wind, crickets, and Janine’s angry, “No!” She stomped deeper into the maze.

“Janine, please!” I grabbed the sleeve of her sweater. “We’ve gotta go!”

The sun disappeared below the horizon. A crackly voice on the PA system announced that Barley Farms would be closing in five minutes. That wasn’t enough time to get out.

Somewhere behind a row of corn I heard footsteps. Probably staff.

Maybe staff.

I hoped staff.

“Let go!” Janine tugged her arm out of my grip. She squinted in the dying light. “Where’s your phone? We need a flashlight.”

“I didn’t bring it.”

“You what?” Her voice rose into a squeak.

“Because I wanted to spend time with you for a change! Not you and your stupid phone!”

Janine opened her mouth to yell when a low howling sound floated over the maze. It sounded like a wolf, then turned into a mournful moan. “The hell is that?” Janine grabbed on to my arm.

A distorted man’s voice rolled over us:

And in the death
As the last few corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare
The shutters lifted an inch in temperance building, high on Poacher’s Hill

Janine’s breath caught. “What is that?”

“I told you we had to leave before dark!” I tugged arm back towards where I thought the exit lay. “Weird shit happens here!”

And red mutant eyes gazed down on Hunger City
No more big wheels
Fleas the size of rats sucked on rats the size of cats

This time Janine didn’t fight me. We jogged down the paths while the man kept speaking.

And ten thousand peoploids split into small tribes
Coveting the highest of the sterile skyscrapers
Like packs of dogs assaulting the glass fronts of Love-Me Avenue

In the dark, we didn’t see the roots sticking out of the ground. Roots that I would swear hadn’t been there when we walked in the maze hours before. Janine face-planted, jaw smashing against the hard ground.

“Are you okay?” I asked. She started to get up, blood falling down her chin.

She screamed. “Oh my God something just touched my ankle! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—”

We ran. I didn’t know where we were going. I could barely see anything but the stalks in front of me.

“I can hear music!” Janine said with panting breaths. “It’s just a song!”

“‘This ain’t rock and roll!'” The man called out. “‘This is genocide!'”

We both screamed.

I don’t know how we found our way out of the maze. By the time we did, we were breathless and clinging to each other. We finally got back to Janine’s car. She locked the door as soon as we got in.

“God.” I ran a shaky hand through my bangs. “The haunted corn maze was actually haunted.”

“M-maybe.” She looked at the holder connected to her air vent where her phone normally sat. “It’s okay. I know how to get home from here.”

I noticed then that she didn’t have her air pods. They must have fallen out during our mad dash for the exit. “Damn. And you lost your earbuds too.”

“Huh?” Janine touched her empty ears. “I guess they’re gone forever.”

That was not the reaction Janine would have had a few hours ago. “You don’t want to go back and look tomorrow?”

She shook her head furiously. “Never again.”

“It’s all junk anyway,” I said.

“Yeah.” Janine started the car. “It’s all junk.”

It’s my favorite challenge: David Bowie Day! Celebrating the 40th anniversary of the movie Labyrinth, which was my introduction to David Bowie.

ELEMENT 1: Your story must take place in a labyrinth. Easy, right? Too easy? Well, since you were all begging for more Bowie…

OPTIONAL ADD-ON ELEMENTS:

♫ UNDERGROUND: Include a reference to the movie Labyrinth in some way, shape or form. I really wanted to have a reference to the worm, but “it’s all junk!” worked better.

♫ DANCE, MAGIC DANCE: Someone in the story must be listening to a song from our David Bowie song randomizer. I got “Future Legend” and “Janine.” “Future Legend” is so spooky~

♫ AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN: Include something forgotten. Janine forgets her phone in the maze.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 15: Unclean Break



Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. To be clear: this is not directed at anyone, it’s just something I’ve been reflecting on lately.

I just got tired.

The smallest thing inside me turned, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted out.

If we were dating, it would be easier. I know the rules of a break-up. Someone leaves. You awkwardly return each other’s stuff. Maybe someone moves out. You avoid talking to each other. Maybe you’ll see each other again, years later, and exchange cordial but awkward words.

I wish it was that simple.

There’s no such thing as a clean break from a friendship.

I just reply to texts less, and then one day I realize either you’ve stopped texting, or I haven’t replied at all. We stop hanging out, just the two of us. Soon I only see you at “group hangs,” and then not at all.

I’m okay with this.

And it hurts that I’m okay with this.

I’ll never get the sweater I left at your house back. Or taste your mom’s extra-cheesy macaroni again. We won’t exchange books ever again, or stay up all night talking about everything and anything.

I have the good memories of you and I together, even though they hurt to look at now.

It’s not enough. They can’t replace you.

But someday, maybe we will see each other on the street and exchange our cordial but awkward words.

Maybe then we’ll fall back in sync, they way we used to be.

Until then, keep the sweater. It looked better on you anyway.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 25: As the World Falls Down

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

It was the summer of Titanic. 

I wasn’t allowed to watch the movie (PG-13 rating), but everyone knew about Jack and Rose. We cut out pictures of Leonard DiCaprio from magazines and found pictures of Titanic in the encyclopedia. Some of us even read the articles. 

We played Titanic, like we were playing Barbies or House. Abby, my best friend, and I would stand on her pool deck, clinging to each other. We called each other Rose and Jack, and repeated lines we knew from the movie. We said that we would rather die together than live apart, and jumped into the pool together, giggling. We did the dead man’s float until one of us had to come up for air, then we’d run back up to the deck and do it all again. 

Summer meant staying up until ten o’clock, playing street hockey in the morning and swimming at Abby’s in the afternoon. Or it meant pooling change with the other kids to buy candy at 7/11, buying a sugary smorgasbord with quarters and times. It meant riding bikes down by the river, coming back with muddy tires and muddier shoes. 

In summer, the world was ours, and I never wanted it to end. 

But somehow, August came. 

I called Abby to ask if I could come over. “I can’t,” she said in an annoyed voice. “My mom’s making me try on uniforms.” 

My heart sank. It wasn’t just an unwelcome reminder that summer was coming to an end. If Abby was getting uniforms, then the worst thing was really happening. She was going to a different school. We had both pretended like it wasn’t happening, but we couldn’t ignore the evidence anymore: a plaid skirt and white polo shirt. 

“Awww,” I whined. “That stinks. Can you come over tonight?”

“Um…maybe. I’ll ask my mom. MOOOOOOOM! Vanessa asked if I can come over later.”

Abby came over for dinner. We had pizza and soda and I showed her what movie my mom had finally let me rent. 

“No way!” She squealed. We ran to the living room without even cleaning up our dishes and popped the first VHS tape into our VCR. I turned off the lights, and we shrieked with excitement while the opening credits rolled over sepia footage and slow, melancholy music. 

We were captivated. We sighed at Jack and Rose’s kiss on the bow, gasped when we saw Rose’s hand against the foggy car window (they weren’t married!) and cried when we saw Leo sink beneath the icy waters. 

The credits rolled, and Celine Dion’s voice soared over us. “Do you think it was a dream, or do you think she died at the end?” Abby asked.

“I think it was a dream,” I said. I didn’t want Rose to be dead, even if she was old. 

“I think she died.”

I wiped my eyes. “Maybe.” Abby’s eyes were equally wet. When I looked at her, I knew that we would never play Titanic again.

“But then she could be with Jack forever,” Abby said, and smiled through her tears. 

“Yeah.” I paused. “We’re always going to be friends, right?”

“Yeah. Best friends.” She hugged me, and then we belted together:

You are safe in my heart
And my heart will go on and on

It’s my favorite challenge of FFM, the David Bowie challenge! At first I wasn’t sure what to do…then I remembered what might be the most 90s song ever, “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion. Then nostalgia did the rest of the work for me.

Element 1: Choose one of the decades of David Bowie’s career. Your story must be set in your chosen decade. It must be made clear in your story, in some way, that it is set in this decade. (You aren’t allowed to switch up the century; no 1860’s here, sorry.)

Element 2: You must include a song from the decade that you chose in your story. It does not have to be a David Bowie song, but we’ve included some examples for you below. The song must appear in the story as an actual song (i.e.; played or sung), not just referenced or used as a prompt.

HARDCORE MODE: Use the name of the example Bowie song for your decade in your story, word for word, or as the title of your story. I almost went with “Changes” but that seemed too easy.

You can take Bowie’s glitter, but you can never take his sparkle.

by booksoverlookedblog

Angelic Layer, Chap. 2: Making Friends

Time for another action-packed episode of Angelic Layer!

Except not at all.

The first chapter was all about explaining just exactly what Angelic Layer was. In the second chapter, we learn a little bit more about the sport, and Misaki makes some friends. That last part is probably the most important for me. People read fiction for all kinds of reasons, entertainment being the most obvious. But I think wish fulfillment is also a big part of it. It’s one of my theories as to why Twilight was such a success. Bella is so bland and dull that it’s easy for readers to put themselves in her shoes.

Fortunately, Misaki is likable and has a personality (unlike Bella), but I think there’s still some wish-fulfillment for the thirteen-year-old version of me reading this. This is because junior high is pretty much the worst time of anyone’s life. It was a time when I was bullied and miserable, bushy-haired and awkward.

Maybe kids are nicer in Japan, because Misaki makes two friends with ease on her way to school. They start talking about Angelic Layer, and that’s that. I wish making friends was that easy in real life, and that the kids I went to school with were really that friendly. And even though I had more friends during middle school than I’d ever had up to that point, friendship still comes with drama, jealousies, and petty squabbles. Misaki and her friends don’t have any of that. They support each other and cheer Misaki on. It’s simple and uncomplicated. I could call it unrealistic, because relationships aren’t that straightforward. Maybe it’s the leftover strain of reading Snow Drop talking, or maybe it’s because it would be nice for things to be that easy, I’ll forgive it.

One trope that CLAMP is really fond of is a young genius character. In Chobits, it’s Minoru. Here, it’s Hatoko. I’m generally okay with it, depending on the kid. The thing withe child prodigies is that writers will sometimes forget the “child” part, and just focus on the “prodigy”. Minoru is a cool, intelligent twelve-year-old, who also dresses his persocoms (humanoid robots, for those who haven’t read it) in sexy, revealing outfits. Minoru’s calm demeanor and wisdom don’t really make him seem like a pre-teen, but I could totally see a twelve-year-old boy dressing up his robots in sexy clothes, whether he’s a genius or not.

Hatoko is six years old, and doesn’t act like it at all. She’s cheerful, but is too well-spoken and mature for her age. At six, most kids can’t sit still for more than a couple minutes. Even if she runs off from her older brother, Hatoko’s really not like that. It’s Misaki’s other friend, Tamayo, who’s bursting at the scenes with energy. I found Tamayo pretty obnoxious as a kid, and still annoying as an adult. This might be because I was similar to Tamayo when I was in eighth grade, and had a lot of self-loathing going on. Many years out of junior high later, it’s embarrassing to think that I used to act like that.

Or perhaps Tamayo is objectively annoying. Can any other Angelic Layer fans confirm or deny this?

One last thing before I go: Hikaru’s armor. The clothing angels wear is made out of special fabric and designed by their owners. Okay, I can buy Misaki sewing Hikaru’s clothes in a few hours. Hikaru’s small, and Misaki is clearly a beginner, but puts a lot of effort into the outfit. The head-scratcher here is the details of Hikaru’s outfit. Those screws and cuffs at the top of her gloves can’t be fabric. Even as a kid this bugged me.