#fff160

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Delay in Pursuits

A/N: hehe, just a short for the @flashfictionfridayofficial​ prompt that I sent. it features an OC, who i wish to develop. so, here is her at post-graduation from uni. :3

Word Count: 556

TW: None

***

Pouring popcorn onto a bucket, she removes a plug. She puts the popcorn maker into a counter. She slips a bottle of water onto the coffee table. She plops down onto the sofa, settling into her seat.

After she picks a remote, she switches the T.V on. She shrugs her jacket off, moving it on an empty cushion.

At this moment, she should have been at work. She would have if. . . if she managed to get a job. This morning, she checked in with a company if they had a work for her specific skillset. It turned out they didn't, so she got back home in resignation. It had been sorta deal-breaking, however, she'll get over it. Somehow.

Hwan just has to chill out before she tries again. Or give up, basically.

Netflix will be great to spend the rest of this day. To stay on her couch, scroll through a list of different movies. Get invested into someone else's problems than her own. Poke fun into embarrassing situations they get themselves into.

Better than checking her phone for e-mails or ads about potential jobs.

Hwan scrubs a hand over her face.

Applying for a job, which can fit her degree, turned out to be so difficult much to her chagrin. It's a process, which can be tedious for her. As a person, who's applied for seventeen different jobs for several weeks now. Especially since she graduated months ago.

Why didn't her parents warn her about it? They keep on telling her it's important to get good education. Yet they didn't bother telling it's not going to be easy? It's so frustrating.

Okay, maybe she doesn't have much to do. Maybe she can unwind by watching any movie or T.V show. She can deal with her problems later. Especially she'd rather be focused on a character's problems.

Back then, she wished to be a writer. More specifically for comic books then she realized she can't. So, she had to take a more 'practical' major. She didn't hate learning about technology or I.T support basics.

Well, it confuses her on how it would be a job in-demand. Yet it seems like plenty of graduates were still unemployed. It doesn't make sense. She might sound like she's complaining but really?

It's so much trouble, just to get a simple job. It's so messed up.

When Hwan presses a remote button down, she keeps on scrolling. Watching movies or T.V shows are her favorite hobbies. Aside from video games, browsing through the interest, and some extra stuff.

With her computer taking a rest, she can do something else while waiting. And a two-hour movie or two episodes could do the trick.

She gets fascinated by how characters interact on the dazzling screen. Observing on their story unravel with each scene. To root for them to achieve their success. Or see how they endure a lot then get up to keep on going.

Depending on the genre, she also believes there are great things waiting for them. If the plot doesn't mess it up. Then she'd wait to discover how it takes a toll on them.

Either way, she's in for a wild ride.

As she finds a movie worth her interest, she starts playing it. The intro rolls out on the screen and she eats a handful of popcorn.

***

[authortango]

The Weavers

Word Count: 924 words

Themes: magic, worldbuilding, textile craft, weaving, first encounters

A Weaver’s craft is one of the most mysterious, and yet beautiful, magicks of our culture.

I was reminded of this walking through the marketplace square in my home village. I had just come back from two weeks worth of voyages - the smell of sea salt still clung to my clothes, my wares from the round-trip slung over my shoulder. As I walked into the marketplace to do some bartering, they caught my eye, various colors of glittering, shimmering, sleek fabrics trailing through the wind as they were woven.

The women-folk of our village, as far as I know, are the only ones capable of the Weaver’s magick, and are the only ones capable of teaching it to others. They had arranged themselves in a sort of ship-like arrangement, their looms and fabrics their sails - the most learned of them sat in front of all the rest of them. Then two sat behind her, to use her work as a reference, then three, then back to two. This was the largest group in my lifetime that had been gathered in the public square for quite some time.

My bartering momentarily forgotten, I drew nearer, entranced by the master Weaver’s work. She worked deftly on a screen of what looked to be silk, the shade of which was a glossy cream white color. The ends of the finished part of her fabric were pinned up above her by a pulley system in front of her loom - once she weaved more she could raise it higher, I suspected so it would stay off the ground and also so that the other girls behind her might follow her example. As I came to stand next to her though, I began to see more.

Looking back on it now, I’m ashamed to say I stood there like a witless carp with my mouth open for a good ten minutes, staring at her handiwork. In the sheen of the silk screen she had created, I could see things that were both explainable and unfamiliar at the same time. I saw dusty lands, sadly dry and barren, and then the landscape changed to a forest with a mix of trees that I had never seen before. Their leaves were purple, orange, and some almost a dark, sea-green, and when the wind blew threw them the undersides seemed to shimmer with gold. I barely had time to fully appreciate the marvels I was viewing when it changed again to a different scene, this time to a place I knew quite well.

It was the bay where my colleagues and I had docked across town. I could see the boats swaying gently in the wind, though safely tucked into their moorings. Gulls hopped across the image for a moment, and I could almost hear their cry until my awe was broken by a cough from next to me.

“Sir.” The master Weaver whose work I had come to admire had halted her weaving. She looked up at me with stormy eyes that matched her blue-gray dress, her expression most severe. It was then that I noticed my mouth had been open.

“I do beg your pardon, Madam Weaver, I didn’t mean to disrupt your work. I was just ah- enraptured by the, ah, the scenery you were, um -”

“Channeling?”

“Yes! Channeling. It was very inspiring. I was sorry when the fall trees changed.” I glanced back at the silken tapestry, but it still showed the sleepy bay where my ship was still docked. A frown of confusion must have creased my brow, for the master Weaver said plainly to me,

“You are from the sea. As soon as I noticed you I knew where you came from.” This news startled me somewhat. I looked between her and the screen above us.

“This is from your mind? And you knew where I came from before I even told you?”

“Do you find this disturbing, sea sojourner?”

“No, not at all! It’s marvelous - fascinating.” A small, pleased smile crept to her lips. It filled me with a strange, yet comforting sort of warmth as I looked at her. She was clever, and of course, as I was noticing the way her hair was arranged in a loose, half-up sort of fashion, I also found her attractive. I had never thought I’d need to know more about a Weaver in my life, but now I felt compelled to, and I feared this would be my only chance.

“Madam Weaver, I would love to learn more about your craft, but more specifically about you, and where you are from. That is if you would be willing to do me the pleasure of entertaining you with a warm meal and a hot drink.” The maidens behind her giggled, dawdling in their weaving, but she paid them no mind. I figured I would do my best to do the same.

The Weaver regarded me for a moment, and I swore I saw a slight spark warm her stormy eyes just a little.

“I suppose I can be agreeable to a dinner with you, sojourner. I can meet you at the tavern after I finish today’s weaving.” The thrill from her words made my heart skip twice, and I couldn’t help letting the excitement spread to my smile.

“Splendid! I would be most honored. How shall I greet you when you come to see me?” I asked. The master Weaver regarded me from the corner of her eye, though her smile was hardly concealed.

“You may call me Shaniera.”

Thank you for reading! Glad I finally got back on the wagon for flash fiction friday this weekend. Thank you @flashfictionfridayofficial as always for their amazing prompts! If you liked this feel free to comment or check out my other writing on this blog.

[renee-writer]

The Room Screen

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 160.

It separates the space well. She is thankful for it a gift from a friend. She must have known she would need it. A simple screen, that sparkles as it folds out. A bit of pretty in the room.

She can step behind it and change clothes out of his eye sight. A blessing. There is a chair behind it. She sometimes sits there for awhile after she changed. It offers a few moments of peace from the chaos. She stays as long as she can until his voice calls to her. A sigh as she raises to see what he needs.

Don’t misunderstand. She loves him even if she sometimes needs a break. Just a precious few seconds before she has to be a mommy again.

[writing-far-too-badly-old]

A Dazzling Screen

For some reason I've realized all the FFF prompts I've written for end up being whatever I've rabbit-holed that week. That trend continues today. @flashfictionfridayofficial

Most of the Theoretical Ritualists Joseph was studying with hated that they had to take a class on not just practical rituals, but fully constructed ones. Personally, Joseph was glad for it. Not only did it mean he had some time where he wasn't allowed to beat his head against the wall of not understanding the fundamental rules of reality, but it also helped him see how the ways different materials took to glyphs and lines explained the theoretical glyphs people used.

When he mentioned that to his advisor, Joseph was glad that she agreed.

"I'm glad you got there on your own," she said, "most students take a fair amount of prodding to understand why you need to understand Concrete Rituals in order to truly learn Theoretical Ritualism. Now, what are you really here for?"

"I have an idea for a project," he said, "and I just wanted to make sure it wasn't too far out there."

She gestured for him to continue, so he did.

"My idea starts from two Concrete facts. First: mis-lain channels for Lightning can have small arcing. Second: when you have a rapid set of lightning bolts you end up with a tone."

"I think I can see where you're going, but continue."

"I plan to use these two facts together to make an instrument. Each note on a keyboard would be associated with a specific alternating Mana rate through the system. In theory, you should be able to tune it to produce actual music."

"How would you ensure that you don't end up frying your circuits, as is common in the Lightning arcs?" Joseph hadn't seen his advisor this excited about a project for ages, so he felt like he was on the right track. Thankully he had an answer.

"I thought about that for a while. If I have an alternating Lightning generator and a general Mana sink, the Lightning should preferentially follow a path to it. Then it's just a matter of tuning each an alternating generator to each frequency I need for a keyboard, and there are no circuits to burn." Joseph knew he was rambling a bit, but it was such an exciting project for him.

"How far have you gotten on the construction?" His advisor looked interested, but the question reminded Joseph of the rules that he was absolutely breaking.

"University policy states that I'm not to build any intentionally ungrounded Lightning circuits without explicit approval from the Dean or my advisor," he recited.

"For the purposes of this conversation, say that I gave you that permission at the start of the term. How far have you gotten?"

"Let me show you." Jeb opened his storage, noting again that he would need to get the engravings refreshed soon. They'd function for a while longer, but the efficiency would keep getting worse until he did.

"It's not totally in tune, but-" he was cut off by his advisor pressing a key.

Lightning arced across the tablet he'd bound to hover slightly above and behind the keyboard. A harsh but recognizable tone came out.

"What about chords?" she asked as she played a simple melody.

"I'd considered that. There were ways to modulate the circuits so that I wouldn't have to hard-build each note, but those all ended up monophonic. I wanted to be able to play-" the sounds grew louder as his advisor found the intensity knob and started playing a piece.

.

"This should be fine for your final project," she said, acting as though she hadn't spent the past ten minutes playing different songs on the keyboard. "What else will you add, though, since you have time?"

That was fair, he did have another few weeks until it was due.

"I was thinking that I'd add different colors for the different notes, but I'm not sure how. There's the part of me that wants to do similar colors for notes that share harmonics, or maybe just a gradient with pitch but-" thankfully she interrupted him before he went too far off topic.

"I knew that having you take that music theory class would come back to haunt me," she said with a wink. "I think a pitch gradient would serve you better than anything else, given that most of your class won't know too much tuning theory."

.

It was finally the day to demonstrate their final projects. His classmates actually studying Concrete Rituals mostly came with solid state constructions that were marginally more efficient than some predecessor. His other Theoretical classmates had mostly made aleatoric pieces, where different random events caused lights or flames to erupt.

"Joseph, if you would show yours?" he realized belatedly that he'd never talked to the instructor about the project.

Joseph unveiled the keyboard. It wasn't too impressive, looking as it did like a scripted keyboard and music stand. All the extra effort he'd put in to carve black runes on black slate felt worth it when he played the first note and red lightning shot across the tablet.

He went through the entire piece he'd practiced, showcasing the full range of the instrument. Lightning of all colors flashed across the screen as he did, and his classmates were transfixed.

Once he gave his demonstration, Joseph went through the schematic for the instrument.

"What's the point?" the instructor prompted. None of the other Theoretical students had been asked that.

"It makes music and light at the same time." Truthfully Joseph didn't know how to answer that question. Quite frankly, there wasn't a point to the project other than the project itself.

"That it does, and by the same effect no less. Good effort." That was a relief.