Archive | May 12, 2012

Creation Story, a story for the May Giraffe Call

For Ysabetwordsmith‘s Prompt.

Names from Seventh Sanctum, except Richard, which @Dahob picked.

“So, yeah, err, yes. I was in the laboratory, working on a way to collect the etheric resonances, when my generator blew up, exploded, sending the volatile chemicals into a mess, into a steamy miasma that seeped into my blood. When I awoke, after a good deal of time in a hospital, not only had the steam mixture changed me, but it had embedded parts of my machines, of my laboratory, into my skin.” Richard scratched at the line of gears running up his arms, all part of his costume, turning in a pattern that looked as if it did something, looked as it it ran the braces attached to his shoulders.

“Oh, come on, Modificationnaut,” Cryphage rolled her eyes. “Last week you said you were bitten by a radioactive automaton.”

“Well, I was. But that was later, while I was healing from the visit in the hospital.” It was hard to keep it all straight. It was hard to balance the persona and the lies. Fighting crime was easier than having a superhero persona people would believe.

“I bet you’re really…” Ultrablasphemer took a long toke, giggling around the smoke. Richard, now the Modificationnaut, held his breath. What if the crazy little shit had guessed it? “Really an Alien. Like Fusefauna and her dad.”

Richard laughed. “Man, do I look like an alien?”

“You look like a body-mod junkie.” Cryphage poked – carefully – at Richard’s gears. “Like a body-mod junkie with a spark. Are you an android?”

“Cryphage!” He laughed, because they weren’t close, but it was tense, because god-below help him if they figured it out. “Man, you’ve seen me. Do I look like an android?”

“You do have a set of gears…”


“They are pretty,” she allowed. “So what’s with the every-shifting origins story? We’re your team, Mod, we’re your friends. You don’t have to lie to us. I mean, come on, you know my thing.”

“Yeah…” Richard thought fast. Cryphage had been the result of some experimental brain surgery. Ultrablasphemer had tripped so hard he’d turned his body inside-out; when he’d gotten straightened out, he’s been able to see people’s deepest fears – and their most cherished beliefs.

“The lab part is true,” he lied, as unwillingly as he could make it sound. “I was studying the ether – you know, Ultra sees it. The dream-world, the mind-scape. And I had almost gotten there, almost gotten there…”

And his mutant power had finally awoken, and blown up the entire lap in a fit of technokinetics. But they’d kick him out, the police would stop working with him, they’d force him into a camp if they knew. Supers were one thing, mutants an entirely different fish. So he shrugged, and, feeling stupid, muttered, “so I plugged my brain into the ethersphere. And when I came to…”

He’d become a superhero. Better than being a number. He grinned at his friends, not minding if they thought he was stupid. At least they didn’t think he was a mutant.

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Building the Homes, a story of the Aunt Family’s Origins for the May Giraffe Call

For Kelkyag‘s Prompt.

Aunt Family have a landing page here.


“Here.” Carrie and Thomas glanced at each other, and then back at the land, and nodded.

“The road’s almost here, it won’t take us much to bring it this far. We’ll put the main house right on the road, and then we can build two more there and there,” Carrie pointed down the road a ways, “and a small place over there.”

“Woah, woah.” Thomas grinned at Carrie. “The small house is for your sister, then? Sarah? What are the others for?”

“This one will be for us, of course. But Elizabeth and William won’t be children forever. And there will be more.”

“Let’s build the big house first.” Thomas smiled indulgently at his wife. “The Bakers will help us, and Robert Gunnerson down the way. We helped them with their places.”

“The big house first.” Carrie set her hands on her still-flat stomach. “We’ll need it. And we can always build on later.”


Twenty-five years later

“You weren’t born yet, of course.” Elizabeth pointed her sisters’ husbands towards a corner of the tiny “Aunt Cottage.” “When we moved into the big house. But by the time you were three months old, Father had already built the cottage. It’s not that Mother had a problem with Aunt Sarah, but it was more that they were much happier separated by a few acres and a few walls.”

“And you think I’ll be happier that way, separated by you by a few walls? More walls,” Harriet teased, “since you have all the men in the family building you a room onto the back of the cottage.”

“That’s for the school.” Elizabeth was, as always, placid, calm, and far too sure of herself. “And, yes. I do believe with your own child on the way, you and John will be happier to have your big sister out of your hair.”

“The house hasn’t been lived in in over a decade, Elizabeth…” Harriet was protesting mostly out of form. She, Elizabeth, their mother, William’s wife June, and their younger sister Emily had scrubbed the house down to bare wood.

“By this point, wherever Aunt Sarah vanished off to, I think it’s safe to say she’s not coming home.” Elizabeth picked up the brown tabby cat who had been ghosting around the family farm, and cuddled it against her chest. “If she does return, well, now we’ll have room for two maiden aunts.”

“You could still marry…?”

“Or I could do this. I think I’ll do this, thank you.” Elizabeth nodded at Harriet’s husband. “Thank you, Jesse. Glad to have the help around the place.”

“It’ll be nice for you to have your own house,” Harriet decided. Nice to have her sister no longer bossing her husband around, too.

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For rix_scaedu‘s Prompt.

Addergoole has a landing pagehere.

Before Monster.

“Monster.” The witch twisted in Barypos’ arms and spat in his face. “Monster. Cretin. Beast.”

He lay his knife at her throat. “Soldier.” Her language wasn’t his, but they were close enough, and a warrior learned what he had to, fighting in these lands that weren’t home. “Father. Son.” He shrugged in apology. “I fight where I have to.”

“You killed my husband. My son. My baby.”

“They would have killed me. There is a war going on.” He was not very good with words, in any language, but she should understand that. Instead, she clawed at his wrists, trying to get free. “Hold still, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

“Won’t have to hurt me?” She stared at him in naked pain. “You’ve taken everything. What do I care what you do with this body, when you’ve already taken the heart from it?”

“Widows live.” He knew this. “Your people will need their sons and daughters. Stop fighting, and live again. The war will end eventually.”

It did no good. She fought and spat against him and, when that did no good, she began swearing, cursing him. It was only when she had gone deep into her own language that he recognized Words in the curses. By then, it was too late.

“What you have taken, you will lose. What you have stolen, I’ll steal from you.” He dropped her, but he had no Words against this. He hadn’t know this could be done. She was Working against his future. Against his soul. “No love. No kin. No home. No warm memories of fire. No hearth to sleep near. No wife to keep you warm. All this, monster, I take from you. All that you have taken… until you have paid for every life of my people you have stolen.”

She kept speaking, but it was lost on Barypos. Her curse was already twisting his mind, and her words were like the jibbering of beasts to his ears.

“Never more will any man want to call you brother,” she hissed in his unknowing ear, sealing her curse for the millenia.

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May Giraffe Call: Origins and Creations (Call of Nature)

The call for prompts is now OPEN!

I am now taking prompts on the theme of Origins and Creation Leave one or many prompts, and I will write (over the next month) at least one microfic (150-500 words) to each prompter (prompts may be combined)

Prompts can be related to one of my extant settings (See my landing page) or they can be for something completely different.

Prompting is free! But Donations are always welcome.

If you have donated, I will write to one extra prompt of yours.

In addition, for each $5 you donate, I will write an additional 500 words to the prompt(s) of your choice.

If I get two new prompters or one new donator, I will write a setting piece (setting chosen by poll).

For every $25 donated, I will choose at random a prompter to write to a second prompt.

At $30 in donations, T & I will get take-out! reached!

At $40 in donations, I will post an additional 1000-2000-word fic on the subject of the audience’s choice. reached!

At $50, anyone who donated $7.50 or more will have a copy of “Alder by Post” mailed to them if they wish

At $70, I will write two extra 500-word continuations – chosen by prompters picked by random number generator

At $100, I will write three extra 500-word continuations – chosen by prompters picked by random number generator

At $105, T & I will buy ourselves a reel mower!

At $130, I will record a podcast of an audience-choice story and post it for everyone to read.

If I reach $200, I will hold a mid-month Call on a single setting of the readers’ choice. Everyone who tipped will get wordcount-and-a-half

This is the Call of Nature, Mark 1, Because I am saving up for: (1) Yard stuff, and then (2) Bathroom fixtures. 😉

For more information on Giraffe Calls, see the landing page.

Donate below

Art by Djinni!
I also take payment by Dwolla

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