Challenged into Indian Steampunk
Apparently some Campaigners asked for more challenging challenges ... the result was a crazy accumulation of prompts and activities and optional difficulty-raisers. The whole set of rules can be found here.
I actually included all 5 prompts and completed all 5 activities and included all 3 additional difficulties:
1. completed at least 3 activities and tied them together with a common theme (India)
2. written in the genre "Steampunk", which I never used before
3. asking for critique by the other Campaigners
Activity 1 - Write a pitch/logline for a book based on the prompts (less than 100 words)
When a couple of poor, Indian orphans and the young son of a white, rich factory-owner get caught and hurt in the explosion of a sabotaged airship, they hide from the resulting energy-wave beneath the remains of an old, rusty bridge. Only the half-mad water-shaper and scientist who dwells nearby can save them, if his experiments won't make matters worse first, because he is developing a gas that does not only tinge certain particles in the air orange, but also makes them toxic.
Word Count: 83
Activity 2 - Write a short story/flash fiction piece of less than 200 words based on the prompts
"Shanti, wait for me!"
"Hurry up then, Rohan! That brat's wailing surely has called guards with rifles."
"Why did you have to steal that ball?"
The dirty, skinny girl laughed, but did not slow down while skipping over junks of metal and evading piles of garbage. It could be painful, fatal even, to step onto some hidden shard or a rusty screw.
"Because the red coat of that boy was too gaudy, of course!"
When they reached their hiding place beneath the broken bridge, Rohan stumbled on into the water and collapsed in the shallow part.
His sister leaned against a rusty girder, inspecting a bleeding cut on her brown-skinned knee.
"Is it bad enough for the factory?"
An orange flower of stylised energy was its symbol. It created gadgets that formed all sorts of shapes out of water, like shimmering fruit-sculptures or little animals. They only applied for the hard work there when they needed the service of its doctor.
"No, I'll be fine."
Nevertheless, Rohan heaved himself up and crawled to her side. Drops from his dark hair drummed on the ball, leaving tracks on the surface, already smeared with oil and soot, and no longer white.
Word Count: 199
Activity 3 - Write a poem with a twist using the prompts as inspiration (in less than 200 words)
At first, there is the light,
it starts white and bright,
until it gathers in a living knot of yellow flames.
Children's cries of joy and sorrow,
a bouncing ball or no food tomorrow,
their fate gets decided by a steam-powered wheel.
Two lovers escape their iron prison,
through water and with marks of crimson,
finding refuge in the rust and rubble of a ruined bridge.
Only a hand steady and bare
can wield a power so rare
that the water of mighty Ganges can be shaped to the heart's desire.
Word Count: 91
Activity 4 - Write a story/poem in five sentences, each sentence based on one of the prompts (apparently no word-limit here)
During the joyful years of my carefree youth, I spent my time chasing my favourite ball and screeching seagulls by the seaside, trying my best to ruin the fine clothes my mother made me wear.
When I was older, “The Seagull” was the first steam-powered airship that brought me to India where I was a guest of honour at my first international art-exhibition, which inspired me to a series of pictures about starving, brown-skinned children.
My masterpiece, a pear shaped out of water-droplets, complete with a green leaf to add some colour, sold for a fortune and made me rich enough to settle in a villa with a handful of clockwork-servants.
Only a few years later my life was in ruins, ravaged by treacherous fame and false friends, and the very last piece of art I ever created portrayed it perfectly – chaotic swirls of fading light in the middle of an oppressing darkness.
Now that the end is near, I find myself beaten and bloody under an equally battered, old bridge, but for the first time in ages I feel like I have a true friend at my side: drunkard Aamir Kapoor whom I have to fish out of the water every few days.
Word Count: 206
Activity 5 - Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.
The first day of school for young Rahul Chopra, and his mother had insisted on giving him a blessing. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one with a little, red smear on his forehead. To him, however, it was more important that his father had entrusted him with the precious, old pocket-watch. It had been in his family for generations.
The morning-lessons passed quite well. Not only his parents, but also his grandfather and various neighbours had told him again and again to be polite to the teachers and friendly to his classmates. Unfortunately, Rahul had soon learned that the latter wasn't so easy when certain boys already started bullying those who appeared weaker than them.
To his dismay, Devdan had managed to grab the seat next to him in the tinker-classroom. Could Rahul dare to show what he was capable of, or would that only be an invitation to get mocked and hurt?
The teacher caught him by surprise, so he shyly lifted the wooden handle. Flicking the simple switch on it he let the water-crystals get shaped into a random form.
"Wow! How did you do that?" Devdan leaned over, pure joy on his face, instead of malice.
Word Count: 199
That's it! :)
If you'd like to vote for me, I'm #82.
Really, I'm not sure how well I met the Steampunk-genre, but it certainly is even more difficult to do it with word-limits like that. Never mind that it was a hell of a challenge to combine so much unconnected stuff anyway - but so very much fun, too!
To properly fulfil the third difficulty, I hereby ask again for critique.
I am aware, most of it is rather weird, but I do want to improve on my flash-fiction skills and improvisation, so I'll be grateful for any advice.
And I certainly wouldn't mind to hear back from others than Campaigners and those who tried their hands on that challenge, too.
Showing posts with label campaigner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label campaigner. Show all posts
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
First Campaigner Challenge (of Fourth Compaign)
The Power of a Word
Shadows crept across the wall, stretching their dark, cold fingers towards the trembling girl. The orange glow of the fireplace was now mocking the security it once had provided.
Her eyes darted towards the bucket of dirty water. Could she reach it in time? It was almost two arm's lengths away. Would it be enough to quench the flames? She herself had provided new logs not long ago, so it would burn bright and last long.
Or might she save her life by throwing in more of the white powder? The mage could coax a spark out of a bundle of wet grass with a pinch of it. He also could call lightning inside the room, by throwing a handful into the air. But there always was a word. And it was a different incantation for every different purpose.
'No!' The shadows had almost reached her. There was nowhere else to go, for the darkness was closing in on all sides, despite the fire. The bucket of water had already vanished.
Eyes fixed on the last visible bits of powder, which had spilled on the floor when the mage had fallen, the girl screamed a single word until everything faded.
word count: 200
Those were the rules, as given by Rachael:
Write a flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title.
Begin the story with the words, “Shadows crept across the wall”. These five words will be included in the word count.
If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), do one or more of these:
- end the story with the words: "everything faded." (also included in the word count)
- include the word "orange" in the story< - write in the same genre you normally write (in my case: fantasy)
- make your story 200 words exactly!
If you like this, please vote for my story, it's #59 (although it was #60 in the beginning).
P.S.: I declare that this little piece of story is part of my Messenger-project, which can be found here under the respective label.
Shadows crept across the wall, stretching their dark, cold fingers towards the trembling girl. The orange glow of the fireplace was now mocking the security it once had provided.
Her eyes darted towards the bucket of dirty water. Could she reach it in time? It was almost two arm's lengths away. Would it be enough to quench the flames? She herself had provided new logs not long ago, so it would burn bright and last long.
Or might she save her life by throwing in more of the white powder? The mage could coax a spark out of a bundle of wet grass with a pinch of it. He also could call lightning inside the room, by throwing a handful into the air. But there always was a word. And it was a different incantation for every different purpose.
'No!' The shadows had almost reached her. There was nowhere else to go, for the darkness was closing in on all sides, despite the fire. The bucket of water had already vanished.
Eyes fixed on the last visible bits of powder, which had spilled on the floor when the mage had fallen, the girl screamed a single word until everything faded.
word count: 200
Those were the rules, as given by Rachael:
Write a flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title.
Begin the story with the words, “Shadows crept across the wall”. These five words will be included in the word count.
If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), do one or more of these:
- end the story with the words: "everything faded." (also included in the word count)
- include the word "orange" in the story< - write in the same genre you normally write (in my case: fantasy)
- make your story 200 words exactly!
If you like this, please vote for my story, it's #59 (although it was #60 in the beginning).
P.S.: I declare that this little piece of story is part of my Messenger-project, which can be found here under the respective label.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Third Campaigner Challenge
Forget-me-not
The little hairs on my skin stand up when the cool breeze from the sea touches them. I shiver all the way down my spine and long to be in my warm bed. I am here for her, but her warm, familiar hand is only a small compensation.
The low morning sun is hurting my eyes and makes them water, so I turn my head. I see nobody else on the beach of Tacise, which reminds me of those artificial looking postcards I always loathed. The monotonous rushing of the waves is whispering in my ears and almost lulls me back to sleep. But the salt on my lips reminds me that this is a real beach, and not just a synbatec hologram. I don't dare to sleep here.
I take a deep breath to relax, for her sake. The sudden urge to vomit calls my attention to the revolting smell of - I don't know, I'm getting a headache from this - and a cramp in my belly. It's as if someone has mixed foul eggs with a leaking wastopaneer-package. Doesn't she notice this at all? I momentarily relax my hand which had clutched hers fiercely when the wave of stench assaulted me from behind. I don't let go completely, I never would. She is my anchor in this insane world.
When I realize that I can neither sit up nor turn around I begin to worry. Is there a leak of paralyzing gas? Why is there no alarm?
I squeeze her hand, desperate for any reaction and any support. My fingers grasp only thin air. She is gone.
I recognize the horrible burning that fills my nose and lungs and belly as the harbinger of the end. How could I have forgotten? Ah yes, the challenge-drug.
So, this is the last challenge of the Campaigners ... I'll miss it.
For the first time, I noticed it early when the rules were online - but I had been waiting for them for days now anyway.
At first I believed this would be the hardest of all, and perhaps it was ... but by now I seem to be in a good challenge-mood.
I just wonder why my flash-fictions always tend to turn out rather dark ...
Anyway ... if you are interested in the prompts and rules for this challenge ... or if you want to read more entries ... or if you want to vote for mine (I am number 4 this time, yay!) ... just go here.
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
The little hairs on my skin stand up when the cool breeze from the sea touches them. I shiver all the way down my spine and long to be in my warm bed. I am here for her, but her warm, familiar hand is only a small compensation.
The low morning sun is hurting my eyes and makes them water, so I turn my head. I see nobody else on the beach of Tacise, which reminds me of those artificial looking postcards I always loathed. The monotonous rushing of the waves is whispering in my ears and almost lulls me back to sleep. But the salt on my lips reminds me that this is a real beach, and not just a synbatec hologram. I don't dare to sleep here.
I take a deep breath to relax, for her sake. The sudden urge to vomit calls my attention to the revolting smell of - I don't know, I'm getting a headache from this - and a cramp in my belly. It's as if someone has mixed foul eggs with a leaking wastopaneer-package. Doesn't she notice this at all? I momentarily relax my hand which had clutched hers fiercely when the wave of stench assaulted me from behind. I don't let go completely, I never would. She is my anchor in this insane world.
When I realize that I can neither sit up nor turn around I begin to worry. Is there a leak of paralyzing gas? Why is there no alarm?
I squeeze her hand, desperate for any reaction and any support. My fingers grasp only thin air. She is gone.
I recognize the horrible burning that fills my nose and lungs and belly as the harbinger of the end. How could I have forgotten? Ah yes, the challenge-drug.
So, this is the last challenge of the Campaigners ... I'll miss it.
For the first time, I noticed it early when the rules were online - but I had been waiting for them for days now anyway.
At first I believed this would be the hardest of all, and perhaps it was ... but by now I seem to be in a good challenge-mood.
I just wonder why my flash-fictions always tend to turn out rather dark ...
Anyway ... if you are interested in the prompts and rules for this challenge ... or if you want to read more entries ... or if you want to vote for mine (I am number 4 this time, yay!) ... just go here.
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Second Campaigner Challenge
Papilion Calls Imago
All inhabitants and crew members of the station please beware of the following symptoms:
- decreasing synchronicity between the physical and mental timeline
- partially or completely vanishing reflections in the mirror
- experiencing a feeling of being trapped in a lacuna or stupor
We regret to inform you that there are only few counter measures that can be taken to protect yourself:
- in the rare cases when the miasma is visible, evade it at all costs
- try not to oscitate in the outer regions of the station, because there is the most danger of infection
The Company is constantly increasing its efforts to decontaminate the whole station, beginning with the most vital sections.
Please understand that private living-quarters don't have priority and might have to be discarded entirely if they become a liability to the station.
Don't use the emergency escape-pods, they are currently accessible only via highly infected routes and there is absolutely no need to abandon the station.
Finally, the Company requests that all individuals who are able to initiate their imago state on their own report to the department "Papilion" immediately. Any info-terminal will tell you the fastest and safest route to get there.
This is my post (I'm number 180) for the Second Campaigner Challenge as was set up here: http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/2011/0
(It really was a lot tougher than the first, but a lot of fun, too!).
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
All inhabitants and crew members of the station please beware of the following symptoms:
- decreasing synchronicity between the physical and mental timeline
- partially or completely vanishing reflections in the mirror
- experiencing a feeling of being trapped in a lacuna or stupor
We regret to inform you that there are only few counter measures that can be taken to protect yourself:
- in the rare cases when the miasma is visible, evade it at all costs
- try not to oscitate in the outer regions of the station, because there is the most danger of infection
The Company is constantly increasing its efforts to decontaminate the whole station, beginning with the most vital sections.
Please understand that private living-quarters don't have priority and might have to be discarded entirely if they become a liability to the station.
Don't use the emergency escape-pods, they are currently accessible only via highly infected routes and there is absolutely no need to abandon the station.
Finally, the Company requests that all individuals who are able to initiate their imago state on their own report to the department "Papilion" immediately. Any info-terminal will tell you the fastest and safest route to get there.
This is my post (I'm number 180) for the Second Campaigner Challenge as was set up here: http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/2011/0
(It really was a lot tougher than the first, but a lot of fun, too!).
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
First Campaigner Challenge
The Messenger
The door swung open and I looked up with a start, mouth as wide open as my eyes - a bad conscience can do that to you.
I just could see a dark silhouette against the grey storm clouds outside. The figure in the entrance wore a cape of some sort and it whipped around its shoulders like it had a life of its own.
Another flash of lightning, closely followed by its thundering mate, illuminated only the inside of the hut and probably my face. The features of that other one stayed hidden in shadows - but I could chance a good guess at his identity nevertheless.
"What do you want?" My voice sounded far more unsteady than I liked, but at least I was now able to stop gaping like a stupid fish and even regained enough of my composure to sit up straight.
As an answer, a small bundle was thrown towards me. I failed to catch it and it hit the ground with a surprisingly heavy thud and tumbled towards me with the rest of its momentum.
'So the time has come' were my last thoughts before I closed my eyes and the door swung shut.
This is my post for the First Campaigner Challenge as was set up here http://networkedblogs.com/mAcae.
word-count: 200
Updates:
"The Messenger" has by now turned from a flash-fiction into a short-story.
04.10.2011: Chapter 1
10.10.2011: Chapter 2
19.10.2011: Chapter 3
26.10.2011: Chapter 4
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
The door swung open and I looked up with a start, mouth as wide open as my eyes - a bad conscience can do that to you.
I just could see a dark silhouette against the grey storm clouds outside. The figure in the entrance wore a cape of some sort and it whipped around its shoulders like it had a life of its own.
Another flash of lightning, closely followed by its thundering mate, illuminated only the inside of the hut and probably my face. The features of that other one stayed hidden in shadows - but I could chance a good guess at his identity nevertheless.
"What do you want?" My voice sounded far more unsteady than I liked, but at least I was now able to stop gaping like a stupid fish and even regained enough of my composure to sit up straight.
As an answer, a small bundle was thrown towards me. I failed to catch it and it hit the ground with a surprisingly heavy thud and tumbled towards me with the rest of its momentum.
'So the time has come' were my last thoughts before I closed my eyes and the door swung shut.
This is my post for the First Campaigner Challenge as was set up here http://networkedblogs.com/mAcae.
word-count: 200
Updates:
"The Messenger" has by now turned from a flash-fiction into a short-story.
04.10.2011: Chapter 1
10.10.2011: Chapter 2
19.10.2011: Chapter 3
26.10.2011: Chapter 4
(this was original posted first in my Livejournal, including comments)
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