#2018ShortStoryChallenge

[carrieautumn-blog1]

Goal Review 2018 and 2019 Goals

I haven't been dreading this post as much as I thought I would, perhaps it’s because I have no shame? I had 6 goals for 2018, and I did not accomplish most of them. I didn't even get close. It was a year of change, and some growth, none the less. I didn't do my best, but I do think I put forth a lot of effort. So let us review, shall we? 

2018 Goal Review:

1. Read 1 book a month, 12 in total. I did this one! If I hurry I can make 13. 

 2. Write 100 short stories/works. HA. HAHAHAHA. Yeah I think I barely broke 30. Most of them were not good. It was a hard year for short stories. I want to try to set more manageable goals this year. 

 3. Create a complete Novel Outline and Draft I can be proud of before 2019. Again, HA. I restarted this story at least 4 times. Currently on chapter 2 of version 4/5. I still have hope, and do feel like I am getting closer to what I want with each reboot. 

 4. Send in short stories for publication. I needed to review stories for this and I didn't find too many I liked. I think growth is not recognizing you suck, but how you can now suck less. I hope this year might yield more productive results.

5. Read more books on writing and history in general. I sort of did this, but I watched videos more than read. Still learned some good stuff! 

6. Revisit and rewrite old work. I did this here and there, but not in the way I meant to. So I didn't do so well. I'd say I only accomplished 1 out of 6 goals. 

It was a chaotic year, but I still think I could have done better. Let's see if being in a more stable position makes any difference. How did you guys do on your 2018 writing goals? 

Here are my goals for 2019: 

1. Finish Novel Draft by March or June by the latest. 

2. Write at least 1 short story a month. 

3. Read 24 books this year. 

4. Learn more about the writing craft. 

5. Be more active on social media. 

I think these goals are much more obtainable, only time will tell if I can muster the will power to live up to my potential. See you soon :).

[carrieautumn-blog1]

Magic March 7: The Prophecy

The Prophecy:

“No, no! Set them on fire, don’t go get a beer. You’re mortal enemies for heaven’s sake.”  Pyrus screamed into reflective void. In it’s shimmering pool, Earth’s every moment from conception to end could been seen. His worn fingers gripped the pool’s edge, as he collapsed onto his knees. Another robed Weaver, with a few strands of fate still stuck to their fingers rushed,  to Pyrus’ side.

“Again?” Lorvis panted, breathless from the endless untangling and re-weaving of this tainted fate. The Weavers of destiny were faced with something that had never occurred before, a fate that refused to be. It was the simplest of prophecies, but current state of all things rested on it’s coming to fruition, something that was beginning to seem impossible. To maintain the duality created by their predecessors; the balance of creation and destruction, peace and chaos, every few thousands of years or with every fresh iteration there had to be  a revitalization of power. The forces that be and the entities of Good and Evil must test each other to decide who will have the upper hand in the new age. Out of fairness, the new balance was decided on the outcome of a prophecy. It could be an epic end of days battle, or something as simple as a card wager. However, it must come to fruition as worded. Since time immemorial, the worlds have been made anew from the prophecy and balance maintained, now something had gone terribly awry. The two chosen souls meant to fulfill these cosmic roles and decide the fate of the world kept becoming allies at worst and apathetic nonparticipants at best. They would do no more than argue before deciding to give up their ethics and ideals and live mundane, ordinary lives. Often, to Pyrus’ great  despair, in each other’s company. As Pyrus was in charge of this prophecy, he was under a great deal of pressure to resolve this issue.

“Ten minutes. Ten minutes and they decided to go to a bar. They aren’t suing each other, they aren’t setting the world altering precedents for the catastrophic policies that will bring about the end. Instead they- NO! Stop kissing, not again.” Pyrus threw his multiple arms up, pulling back his mane of cloud dust in disbelief.

“Perhaps their bonds are too strong?”

“They have to be strong enough to be tied by fate, otherwise they could wander the Earth without meeting their purpose.”

“If we increased their animosity? They seem too drawn to each other.”

“It only makes them want the other one more. I’ve tried everything. I’ve made them strangers, childhood friends, family,  rivals, even lovers out of desperation. No matter how they betray each other or how I stack one up against the other they end up allies. One killed the other’s family and they still came to an ‘understanding.’ Ha! The best results I’ve gotten is were they never speak to each other again or one kills themselves. They aren’t driven to save or end the world, they just want to get high on the couch. They know, they have to know. How else could they spite me so?” The other weaver took a step away from the raving Pyrus. Who made rude gestures at the unwitting peons of destiny.

“It’s been a tough iteration.” The female-ish weaver comforted the older weaver, knowing that they would have to undo everything and start again. “You just need fresh perspective. Have you been looking at past prophecies?”

“Yes, I’ve been over them again and again. I think I no longer have the touch. I can’t design two enemies, hell, I can’t design one soul who is driven to change the world. I’ve failed, the balance upset will bring untold happenings to the universe, and it is because I have FAILED.” Lorivs watched the grief fall over Pyrus who hid their face and cradled their exposed heart in their luminous cavity. It was a painful thing to see, and for a moment they were embarrassed by the sheer vulnerability.

“Perhaps if you just made them hate each other more-”

“I’ve added enough hate, Lorvis! Anymore and they’d rip each other’s arms off without reason.” Pyrus shouted at the startled weaver before shooing her off, “Get out of here! Go tell the others to undo it again.” He began thinking of how he could get them to cooperate this time. Murder, theft, greed, poverty, love, commercialization, envy, war, sickness, fame, oppression. No motive had been good enough. Nothing stirred their passions long enough after they met. Somehow they were disarming each other, they instilled apathy and acceptance into each other. Pyrus has suspected foul play from some of the entities and forces that be, but they had been found innocent. Well innocent by Evil’s standards anyway. Something was diluting the weave and Pyrus suspected it was this bloody thing called friendship.

Pyrus reached down and pulled the two souls from the woven void and observed them. He cradled them in two hands and then mimed them talking, “Blah, blah, I forgive you, blah, blah.” Pyrus mimicked before taking them to be redesigned yet again. “Perhaps you two have found a new balance. A truly new shift in the powers that bind and guide us. It may be time that we reevaluate our binary, beliefs and way of design. If two such small, insignificant souls so yearn for their freedom of will that they are able to shake off fate, shouldn’t that be honored?  Perhaps so. I will consider that. No matter this time, however,  I’m giving you both worms.”

[carrieautumn-blog1]

Magic March 1:

NOTE*: D: Let me just say that I hate this story. I have been editing and rewriting it for the last two days and I cannot get it right. It just won’t come together! I plan to revisit this concept in the future, because I really enjoy it, but for now I surrender. I’m hoping the rest of March will go much smoother!

Magical Girl:

“No one ever thinks it’ll be their town. Why should they? People would go mad if they spent their every moment trying to calculate when their numbers up. There is no point in living in fear of the improbable. Yet, when disaster finally strikes it doesn’t feel like a statistic or an outlier. Because in reality, it’s an inevitability.

Our cities are built on what are essentially massive stilts that hold us high above the rotting Earth and  rising sea. We keep building higher, to keep above the boiling waves and the sinking ground. We build our cities to withstand the unending tempestuous rage that nature rains down from above and below. Our floating isles survive, they are peaceful, even though our resources slowly dwindle. One day we will have nothing left, we will be unable to support the weight of our meager populace and we will be unable to build any higher. They tells us that this is centuries away, as they always have, and we believe them. As we always have. Though we may build monuments to our denial, rest assured that day is coming, and the world will exact her revenge.” - Ro Burke 2101

CENTRAL SETTLEMENT B, 2167

Today started when the walls fell down.

I was thrown from my bunk onto the floor as the tenement cracked like an egg. The side of the building I was on was the lucky side. It tilted away from the other side that crumbled and shortly thereafter burst into flames. I could only focus on the sight from my opened tenement building. I stood gaping at the edge of my little world, outside my damaged little box everything was on fire. A cold shudder ran threw me as another building crumbled like sand before my eyes. When I think back there must have been a barrage of sound, but I can’t recall it over the flood rushing in my ears. I don’t remember a lot from that day, but I remember that sight. I remember how small and isolated I felt because I was just one person who need to be rescued, out of all of them.  When you see a disaster on the news your heart might ache for those you cannot reach. You might feel a false sense of community, a oneness with them, but at that moment I felt alone. “I may not escape this,” I remember thinking that. I had to help myself, but I had never experienced a fear so palpable. I froze, I dared not move fearing the floor or ceiling would cave in on me. A water pipe burst on the floor above me and sent water shooting out into the air and I screamed bloody murder. I tried to pull myself together, I checked myself for injuries and found myself miraculously unharmed. I made mental checklists of what I should do, I had been drilled since I was old enough to talk, but none of it was clear. The peripheral of that day is unclear, but the fear is sharp.

The walls are down, I realized. The walls that controlled the climate, and protected us from the storms, and most importantly kept THEM out, were down. That’s when I saw them, The SeaWin beings, marching through the streets. The race of beings that come from the ocean that resemble poorly thought out Science Fiction creatures. The SeaWin are reminiscent of octopi, with their camouflage skin and curling limbs. They wear reinforced armor made from the calcified reefs that sit deep under the sea, and brandish the same limited probability altering technology as we do. No one knows when they came into existence or why they attack us, as they never speak no matter how they are provoked, but ever since the first attack in 2110 we have lived in fear of them. To see them inside the walls of my crumbling city was like watching death walk in with open arms.

I watched people run for their lives only to be sliced into pieces from the spinning blasts of their weapons. A few brave souls tried to assault them with whatever they could find, but they were heavily outmatched in strength. Some were shooting at the water tanks on their backs from the rooftops, but soon the SeaWin scaled the buildings with their strange limbs crawling in and out of the windows like ants, and threw people to their death. The invaders searched  doggedly through the rubble for survivors. We were being exterminated. They turned onto my street and I was confident they would not leave my building untouched. I crawled across the tilted floor, trying to stay out of sight. Every creak of the floor sent my heart into my stomach. The hard stone bruised my arms and knees, but I  inched my way to the door. I pulled open the handle and let the door fall open, happier than I have ever been to see the stairway in front of my door in tact. I gingerly moved out onto the pathway, grabbing the rail, trying not to notice how much closer the ground was. From what I could see there were no SeaWin approaching from this side of the city, I had to act fast, but was getting dizzy from the slanted floor and the potential drop from five floors up. I made it to the stairwell only to find rubble completely covering the bottom half of the stairwell. What happened next created the phantom of the rest of my nights.

I wanted to climb over the railing, and make a run for it, but there was a deep pit waiting below. If I tried to climb the rubble I was worried it would collapse further. I began to panic again, tears rolling over my knuckles as I bit my fist to keep from screaming. I was a rat trapped in a maze, too stupid to find my way out. I looked above me, thinking to double back. There was a small girl grasping onto the rails from the floor above. She had blood covering the front of her, she looked her small eyes with mine and began to scream. She called out to me, begging me to help her. Instead of running to comfort her I stared wide-eyed at her, I was convinced she’d given us away. They were going to find us. Another explosion went off in the distance.

The building shook as it began to sink further into the ground. I gripped hard onto the railing, as I was nearly thrown like a rag-doll. I watched the little girl go tumbling over the railing and fall past me into the pit. The building was almost completely sideways, and beyond all reason I miraculously survived again. There was an opening in the rubble now, and I could see the street on the other side. I hurried toward it, ignoring the tiny pleas coming from behind me. When I recall that moment now, I realize that that was the little girl I used to babysit when her mother had to work late. She was six years old and I left her to die. I tell myself I didn’t hear her, that she was already dead. I can tell myself there was no way I would have been able to get her out, but I didn’t even try. Some nights I’m woken by her screams, other nights I dream I talked with her from the stairway until she bled out. I’m so cowardly that I can’t even face the guilt-ridden truth in my dreams.

After I reached the street I started running, indiscriminately  in any direction. Finally I began to think, where would they not look for me? Where would people not hide? That’s when I turned around. If I could hide in the places they’d already searched then maybe they wouldn’t find me. I realize how stupid that is now for a number of reasons, but thinking under pressure was not my strong suit. I tried to take the long way around to circle around to the edge of the city. I took the smaller alleyways for cover, but when I turned the corner I locked eyes with a SeaWin. I skidded around, falling and then scrambled back down the way I had come. I was already out of breath from the brisk pace I had foolishly been maintaining. I was vaguely thinking to run back to my dilapidated building when a blast knocked me off my feet.  I went sailing and this time I didn’t come out so clean.

Adrenaline is a hell of a thing. I registered that my leg was broken and something was wrong with my arm, but I still tried to move. I was pulling my mangled self away from the approaching group of SeaWin. Eventually a pang of pain went through me, I couldn’t claw myself forward anymore. I realized half of my hand was gone and I was touching the exposed bone of my arm into the dirt. I craned my neck to watch as the lone SeaWin slowly trained his weapon on me. This was it then, I thought as the spinning particles began to vibrate and glow like a small sun. Instinctively I lifted my arm to block the shot, shutting my eyes tight.

No matter how many times we retaliated against the SeaWin we could not have won. They resided in the sea in settlements we called New Atlantis. The sea was already dangerous for us to traverse, but with the SeaWin defenses it was impossible to penetrate. With most of the world underwater they were a growing threat who we couldn’t hope to challenge in their own waters. We created the walls that helped to keep them out, it seems they weren’t yet familiar witht he technology, but our most important defense is our guardians.  With the best biological enhancements and technological weaponry we could muster our guardians watch over our cities when nature or the SeaWin attack. Our heroes  destroy the offensive units the SeaWin send up to attack the columns that hold up the city. Because only women of a certain age are able to take the treatment and the nature of their abilities they are commonly referred to as Magical Girls.

 I always wanted to be a Magical Girl. I know how foolish that seems, given how much of a coward I am, but the one brave thing I did was sign up as a potential candidate. I grew up watching Magical Girls saving people on the news, girls who were only a little older than me who wore a glittering aura and sparkling clothes. When a Magical Girl showed up everyone knew things would be okay. Even when there was no emergency, if a Magical Girl appeared on the street people were happier and felt safer for it. I always wanted that, for someone to be happy just at the sight of me. I never been able to do that, in fact I tend to have the opposite effect, not even my mother was pleased to see me. I’ve always been weak and useless, but when I tried out to become a Magical Girl I gave it my everything. I studied, I trained, I watched video after video of other Magical Girls in action trying to learn everything I could. I didn’t even make it past the first round, but when I opened my eyes to see that shimmering form shoot past me I felt that bravery again.

Ashe, Magical Girl. The golden glow around her was her armor, it made her look celestial, like she was bathed in falling starlight. On closer inspection she was covered in scars, she smelled of soot, and her clothes were torn and bloodstained. She still looked fantastic. She threw me over her shoulder and we stood over the ruins of the SeaWin that had been hunting me. “I got a live one. They’ve moved into the East Sector.”

Everything was dark after that, save for one moment. High above a dizzy world with a single word, “Detonate,” and the world below burst into fire. I didn’t hear the words before or after, but I understood. They’re like an infection, once they’ve spread to far you have to amputate. Central Settlement B was no more.

I woke up in a hospital on another island, one arm short. The survivors were being kept on this interim island while our leaders did damage control. Reinforcing the walls of the other Settlements, raining down constant bombs and Magical Girls driving back the sea invaders with a unceasing barrage. It was here that I saw Ashe again. I had seen plenty of Magical Girls coming in and out, and each one was magnificent, but I was searching for Ashe.

I was still on the mend, but other than my arm, I was almost physically functional. I stumbled after her, a pain shooting up my hip and into my back, I shouted after her. Her glow was down, but when she turned to look at me I was stunned for a moment. “Thank you for saving me.” I finally managed after stuttering gibberish into her impassive face. She nodded and turned to go. As I was watching her tattered skirt trail vanishing soot on the floor behind her, innumerable things welled inside me. I don’t know why I asked it, but a darkness that I had been carrying far longer than the destruction of my city came crawling out of my mouth. “Why did you have to blow it up?” Ashe stopped.  She whirled around, her eyes darting to the people around us. She marched toward me and glowered at me with her smoldering gold eyes.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” I did not want to challenge her. I did not mean to accuse anyone.

“Why did they have to die?” Why I said that was beyond me, I felt tears fall down the face of whoever had possessed. She snarled and lifted me by my scrubs.

“You’re luck we saved any of you.” A calm fell over her face and she set me down, satisfied before walking away. I leaned against the wall, unable to stand.  

[carrieautumn-blog1]

One of my writing goals this year is to write 100 short stories. Currently I have 14 from my recent Valentine’s Writing Challenge.  For the following months of 2018 I plan to write two stories a week, 8 a month in total. If you would like to join me in this challenge post your progress under the tag #2018ShortStoryChallenge. The first step to meeting goals is to make them and it’s never too late to get started!