Daily Archives: October 5, 2012

Friday Fiction – The Rebellion

It’s Friday, so there’s a prompt from Madison Woods and a picture courtesy of Raina Ng. What caught my eye in this picture probably isn’t what caught everyone else’s eye – I hope you like it and I’d love to see your feedback.

If you’re looking for the last part of Voice Week it’s here on the previous post. And if you’re not looking for Voice Week, you should be – do have a look back over the past few days for a fascinating project I’ve been enjoying!

The Rebellion

The X-wing soared around the red planet. The Deathstar loomed in the distance, menacing and almost complete.

“He’s on my tail, Red Two, I can’t shake him!” The pilot pulled into a sharp dive, but the Tie Fighter mirrored every move.

“Roger that, Red Leader. Hang in there, buddy.” Luke lifted his own X-wing into a steep ascent.

Beep Beep Beep

“He’s locked onto me, Red Two!”

Luke pulled on a lever to manoeuvre into position, then closed his eyes and let the force guide his trigger. “Ready, R2?”

“Max! Get down off that table! Didn’t you hear the microwave?”

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Voice Week #5

In the final part of my Voice Week exercise, below is another possibility for the story which began as A Mother’s Legacy. You can see all the other versions of this story, and read about Voice Week as a project, on Monday-Thursday’s posts. Again, I’ve tried to break my own mold a bit with today’s version, going right outside they world I know.

If you’re looking for Friday Fiction, go to the next blogpost, Friday Fiction – The Rebellion. Either way, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments about this piece, which started life from a Fictioneers’ prompt a few weeks ago.

Legacy

They came from us and so they must all eventually return. For we are All that is and ever shall be.

She walks bent; her human body no longer of value. She will shed it at the shore.

He still clings to his form and, in doing so, clings to hers. He senses, but does not understand. He knows that he must let her go, but wishes she could remain.

He leads her, tenderly, to the water’s edge.

She hesitates, clinging to the last tendrils of experience. For the All feels nothing, hears nothing, knows nothing. And yet, is everything.

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Filed under Voice Week, Writing