#nyc midnight

[quietbreeze97]

Anyone else writing a short story for the NYC Midnight #500WordChallenge2024 this weekend? This is my first time doing it and I'm nervous but very excited to write something fresh and new between my WIPs.

Prompts have been received, inspiration is flowing - here we go!

[bg-sparrow]

Sharing an original short story I created for the second round of the NYC Midnight short story contest! The more I read it, the more I love it. Maybe I'll revist it sometime!

Round 2 Criteria: Genre: Spy (I went more Spy Comedy) Character: a centernarian Item: a deadlock

The Result: Title: The Acoustic Kitty and the Piece of Resistence Rating: T Words: 2000 Summary: Alfred has pioneered spy technology since the birth of the CIA. Now that his bickering grandsons are two of the agency’s greatest assets, he just wants to knit potholders.

[hya6cin7hus]

         there's a tunnel under ocean blvd

[bittersweetsaro]

Heavenly Body

NYC Midnight Rhyming Story 2022 - Round One Top Eight Winner

SYNOPSIS:

A transcript of an audio recording of an unknown human soldier recovered from their helmet in the year 2655.

—

[15/09/2623]

“…Lina, do you hear me? I think my rocket pack has died

and the bomb has blasted me to the planet’s nighttime side.

There’s no resistance out in space, no way for me to feel

the kilometers that spin away. It-- it doesn’t seem real

that my last words to someone might be through the static sieve

of my radio. Lina, my suit’s damaged but I live!

Can you hear me? … Hello? First Sergeant Satya, do you read?

Gunner? Omundi? Kiryu? It's Moira, please, I need

someone to catch me before I get lost among the wreck

with the melted metal. Before I'm just a speck

against the sky. Private Dorran, hailing her crew. I'm sure

you made it out of there, Lina. You can’t be dead, you’re—“

[TRANSMISSION ENDED. YOUR RADIO HAS GONE OUT OF RANGE]

“Oh. Okay. I've got this, I'll be okay, this doesn't change

much. They must have heard me, any second they'll be coming

so all I have to do is keep this power suit running."

[16/09/2623]

“I think it’s a new day. I know I’ve slept, my tongue

is dry, crusted in my mouth. By now I’ve been flung

so far I can see the other arching edge of the globe.

As it turns, I watch the cities flicker like a strobe

while day yields to the infinite, exorable night.

I always thought of the day as default, that the bright

blue sky was normal, not a memory of the expanse

of freckled space faded pale like denim pants.

Now the splintered steel drifts with me, flashes

with starlight, maybe sunlight. The iron and the ashes

surround me like the snow that fell our last day of training.

Lina, you called it romantic. I wished it was raining.

I meant to tell you yesterday, your hair up in a braid

that I liked the purple hair tie but I was too afraid

I'd slip when I spoke and everything’d unravel

and our concrete relationship would crumble to gravel.

But I think we're past that. If you've passed on than I'm past fear

and it won't belong before I join you, my friend. My dear.

Never thought I'd die like this, my body a UFO

found in some distant century by a stranger, you know?”

[18/09/2022]

“… think the battery is dying on my suit’s life support

so if this is the end, … make my last official report.

From up here, I can blot out … whole continent with my thumb

and it only makes me miss it more. God, I was dumb

to not have loved her louder, sooner. Lina, did you know?

I lied about the rain, I was just jealous of the snow

for falling on you like I wanted … things could have been ours.

But they can’t be. Won’t be. I’ve been left to … among the stars.

I’ll take it … my own terms. [WARNING: SEAL IS COMPROMISED]

They’re … different color without … visor … just realized—“

[eleinwrites]

The Birds and the Bees and the Diplomacies

600-word Rhyming Story Challenge: genre: science fiction subject: dual-citizenship emotion: merry

co-written with @whycantilurk

Summary: The bee-like society on the planet Saturn and the bird-like society on Saturn’s moon Titan create a hybrid dual-citizen chick-bee species as a demonstration of their diplomatic relationship.

The hives of Saturn had a theory for why the birds of Titan were so incredibly shy. Each bird of Titan was its own separate being, even when gathered in flocks of good feeling. But as the birds developed and searched in the sky,  casting their gaze increasingly high, finding this greater exploration freeing, it was the hives in Saturn’s clouds they were seeing:

Saturn was glowing, ominous and looming,  full of hives buzzing, rowdy and zooming, each hive was one being with a million bodies or more, a queen in the center of drones that could soar all through the storm clouds, bright and booming. Hidden was the surface, underneath blooming:  no sign of the science and art of the core,  even with all of the hives’ excellent lore. 

To the birds each with only one body, no more, just two hives convening could look much like war. But the hives were clever and determined to lighten their reputation with the birds of Titan. Intent on the chance of meeting their neighbor,  seeking to enjoy the other’s favor, the hives tried to make friends rather than frighten,  the lives of both bees and birds to brighten.

Meanwhile, the flocks of Titan already understood the different perspective of the hives’ personhood.  They saw that the hives were mostly alone, on their giant planet of clouds and stone.  Rare is the stranger to greet a hive’s multitude, but the birds made the effort to break that solitude.  To isolate another, they would not condone. A way to make friends, the birds would make known! 

Both species could fly, with wings and with rockets, and had various skills in their metaphorical pockets, so they messaged each other with radio and then text, exploring much science that had left them vexed and sent each other samples secured with a lock, it’s contents complex genetic schematics. Working together to achieve what came next,  the two societies, their development skills flexed. 

And oh it worked: it worked so well! Their first success was just a single cell! The intertwined genes of bee and bird, making a new and combined third:  a chick-bee who on either planet could dwell, in either environment their health would excel. Within both societies their words would be heard,  the definition of “native born citizen” blurred.  

The long-strived-for ambassador chick-bees lived up to their destiny for diplomacies. They parlayed and partied with people all over. They buzzed and chirped and played, ever bolder. Beloved citizens of two societies –   toasted with cups of honey meads,  and feted with feasts of clover –  rarely were the chick-bees ever hungry or sober.

Success inspired the creators of hive and nest, to keep looking up and consider the rest:  Mimas, Tethys, and Rhea, to name but a few, the many moons of Saturn were now in a queue. To make family of them all was their great quest, for adding diversity in life was the best! With parties and science and genetics too: new species increased with the bee-toad and chick-shrew.

Space society became increasingly wild as “Congratulations! We have a child!” became the rallying cry of friendly invasion of the bee-toad-chick-shrew intending only persuasion. Across the varieties of moons beguiled,  they came and they landed and greeted and smiled,  always with their own happy acclamation, they proclaimed: “Let this be a joyous occasion!” 

[spellscribe]

Gosh life went crazy for a bit there.

I'm trying to stumble back from absolute chaos into slightly-less-chaotic-chaos. It's forced me to figure out Notion, which I'm currently loving, to the point where I'm *sort of* managing to make it both functional AND pretty. Like. At the same time! Woo!

While on that quest I found the most amazing The Amazon Devil stickers on ko-fi. They're so pretty!

Meanwhile, I've gone from not getting a damn word down, to... well, still not getting words down but somehow deciding that overcommitting my mother to creative projects is a FABULOUS idea. I've entered the NYC Midnight rhyming story comp, am going to apply for the Faber scholarship, have had to essentially create a story from scratch for that, and also agreed to make a teletubby Halloween costume for my 12.99 year old. Also, there is an upcoming 13th birthday 😂

Send wine, stickers, and strength

[starklyscifi]

Four years (or something like that, Idk) I’ve been doing NYC Midnight contests and I finally placed in one! (In the round of the contest, not the overall thing, but still, a win is a win)

[sweensmay]

I'm working on a short-story for a writing contest and I have 48 hours and jokes on me I thought this was going to be so easy but here I am on my last 3 sentences and I'm freaking out overthinking everything!!

[jancabraljackson]

NYCM Screenwriting Finalist

I’m through to the final of the @nycmidnight #ScreenwritingChallenge! I’m so excited! The top five of Round 2 qualified to the final. We started off as 1700+ writers down to 90.

[sjaynebradley]

[quietbreeze97]

Well, I've officially submitted my entry to the first round of the NYC Midnight 500 Word Fiction Challenge!

I'm pretty proud of my result, and also I wrote three different drafts in less than 24 hours yesterday, which I never normally do, so this has really helped improve my self-discipline.

Fingers crossed I advance to round 2! I really hope I get in only because I've really enjoyed the challenge so far and am keen to write another piece. :D

[shapedforfighting]

I'm at that point in my writing skill progression where I can create something story-shaped that I don't love.

It's got all the elements of a story. Interesting premise. Solid characterization. Tension. Suspense. Clever wordplay. Tropes turned sideways. My partner/first reader is even impressed.

But I had to build this story very fast out of a specific prompt for a flash-fiction competition. It felt like construction rather than creation—the assembly of story out of recognizable pieces. Not discovery.

Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I put in way too many hours for work this week to have fun. But this one makes me feel hollow.

[headingalaxys]

Here is my official submission I did for NYC Midnight.

Title: Dottie

Synopsis Farmhand Danny has to reign in his rambunctious cow Dottie that has been wreaking physical damage all through the town. Slowly he becomes aware that this is not an ordinary cow that he’s trying to subdue. 

It was 2:42pm, twoish hours before sundown, and the cloven-hoofed creature approached its first house in the neighborhood. One that had been surrounded by a great Yew tree that had hundreds of years to take root within the healthy soil and form itself around the small quiet house. With only one inhabitant that barely liked to leave, it would be easy for a predator to set up a trap to get the lonely tenant to leave. 

Smells of apples, caramel, and black tea filled the senses of the cow's snout. It wandered closer and closer to not let any living thing be aware of its major presence within the vicinity. With caked-in dirt that filled in the cow's loud bell, it would be impossible for anyone to hear it approach. 

It snuck around to the backyard, which had a small garden and an opening to an underground cellar that must be connected to the more significant part of the house. It had to be. It searched for a way to break the lock, and to its surprise, it found a key still jammed within it. It got to work putting the safety under pressure and finally making it turn even though it had a ton of rust. Access has been granted. Now time to wreak chaos. 

The tenant heard the cow make its way up the stairs. They were too frightened to react. They simply sat at the table with their last meal in hand. She gracefully tapped her fingers against the delicate glass. There was nothing she could do. The cow had already spread its deadly disease. The town was finished; the town was as good as dead. Dottie came in and filled the room with dread. Nostrils flare wide like angry bulls. Smoke arising in the room like hell had just opened its overflowing gates. It needed to let some lava out. 

************

2:43pm, another tick against time. A few red dots began to blow in the wind. It wasn't blood, or at least some of it. He began to latch onto the back of his trusted distressed overalls. 

'Only a few more homes to assess on damage, and then I can head home. But I'm damn tired of that damned cow making my life a mess around this time. I could be at home making love to my wife or tending to the livestock, anything other than this before the snowfall rampages through the town bull.' Agaited that yet again that even his high fences couldn't keep the crazy cow at bay. He runs a hand through his wavy hair.

He bangs his hands down loudly on the door like thunder bringing on a storm. Unaware that he disturbed some of the dust and dots from the cows' earlier visit. 

"Hello? Anyone there? It's me, Danny, the trusted farmhand. I came on behalf of my crazy cow. I need to do a quick damage assessment." He waited for a few moments until a middle-aged woman answered the door. She looked tired and as if a cold was just beginning to catch onto her soul. But there wasn't too much to tell. You have to have a microscope to see where the beginning damage was beginning from within the deepest parts of the skin.

"Hey, there. How are you, Danny?" She asks. 

"I'm fine. I just need to take a statement from you and gather some answers, and I'll be on my way." 

"Sure." 

"Did you come in direct contact with the cow?" He runs a hand through his hair spreading the microscopic parasites through his thick brown locks. 

"Luckily, this time, no. It only came inches away from my face, and scoffed. It wandered away after a few moments. I'm glad I wasn't headbutted by a beast like that." 

"I know. Can you at least tell me which way she went? She decided to bother the ones north or the pear grooves." She pointed over to the west. If you hurry, you can catch her before she terrorizes another home. She coughs a little and wheezes as if she's just inhaled a large puff of smoke. 

"You're allowed to poke around so that you can give me an accurate insurance claim." She starts coughing a little more challengingly with more phlegm. "Pardon me." She excuses herself. And as she left, he had to question all of the numerous spots that appeared on her arms and legs. They looked harmless, like normal chicken pox. But in her 30's? 

"Thanks. Laura-Lee. It should be mailed to you by the end of the week. Take care of yourself and your um. Rashes." 

"Oh yeah, these, nothing that a little benzoyl peroxide couldn't fix." And with that, she hurriedly shut the door so she could tend to the intensifying itch that was beginning to consume her entire being. It was time for the Dottie disease to up the ante. 

Danny scratched his head but didn't want to think about the accumulating dots on Laura-Lee. He left her to her devices and went on his way to continue to look for his rampaging cow Dottie. 

Danny begins to wander up again on the lonely dirt road. There were speckles of red that made little lines in the dampened dirt. He raised an eyebrow. Concentrating on the ground isn't the best thing for now. 

He thought about his sweet wife and all of the fantastic sweets she made during this time of year. Apple Pie with black tea sweetened with honey and cream. As the nights stretched longer, it was essential to be at home where the cold couldn't nip into your soul. He loved the feel of her warm hands. Simply spending time together was more than enough to fill his soul. He always felt more alive and light through the long Winter night. 

3:13pm Danny finally arrives at the next house. It was bigger than the last. It was an old couple's home. They had been there for decades. The two men had built their homes from stone and concrete together in their youth. When he saw that a few of the rocks were displaced by the beast, his eyebrow raised. 

The spots were slightly larger and somewhat visible to the naked eye. They were beginning to slowly inch their way toward his neck. 

'This thing certainly has a lot of underlying strength.' He bit his lip, still trying not to overthink it. He closes the door and knocks. Hoping that both the tenants, Ryann and Clay, have yet to come within close contact with the cow. 

"Ryan? Clay? Are you alright? Are you okay? I saw some of the stones from your house roll away." His rapturous banging continued until one of them finally came to the door. 

It was Ryan, the shorter man of the two. He had a stout nose adorned with spectacles. He was wearing his favorite blue flannel and acid wash jeans that had been torn from the recent struggle. 

"Oh, Danny, hello. I assume you're here to try to get back on the trail of that rambunctious cow? We've already met them, as you can see." He lets out a slight lighthearted chuckle. 

"Yeah, exactly. But are you okay? Your leg is bleeding just a bit." There were beginning to be small patches of blood staining the disheveled denim. 

"Yes, it hurts, and I have to disinfect it. But I'll be alright. If not, I have my car, and the general hospital isn't too far away." He could see the old man's excessive preparation as if he was right above Mauna Loa. And spots. 

"What about Clay? Is he okay?" Worried now that these spots looked just the same as the ones he saw on Laura-Lee. 

"He's fine; he's just asleep; sonny, he's okay." Trying to steady his shaking voice, the dots had begun to override his immune system. And just like Clay, he would not be able to keep the torrent of deadly pinpricks at bay. Danny would be in the same boat soon enough since the dot had begun to spread far and wide on the tattered denim and moved toward his socks and upper leg. 

Eyes wide and curious, Danny does not immediately leave. He needs to get some questions answered to ease his mind for the trek up to the next house. 

He inspected Ryan's form more to see if there were any other things he may be missing. There were mass aggregations of dots that were coming through the side of his neck. 

"What did Dottie do to you and your home? Was the damage extensive?" He asks while subtly trying to look for more of the dots. 

"Well, the back wall is completely gone, and my partner Clay does have a broken leg. So we will have to keep this conversation short." 

Danny retook a quick look at the man's leg once more where the laceration was, and holy moly, there it was: more of those dots with now a green ooze or film spilling out onto his somewhat translucent skin. 

Danny's wide ocean blues connected to the older men's weathered chestnut eyes. Danny had to swipe some of the strange dust that was trying to stay in orbit only near his eyes. 

"It's already too late, son. And that's okay. We've had a good life. But protect the rest of them and especially your wife. Your loved ones are precious because you only have one. She went up that way to that family of four. Hurry, son, hurry. Find the cow, find the cure, kill it before sundown." Ryan shoos Danny off to pursue the cow before it can reach its last house in the line: His own home. The last one that hadn't been ransacked. 

He raced back down the path. To his horror, specks of red painted the ground. Death had begun filling the air. Horrors abound. 

4:01 pm Only mere minutes of sunlight left. 

Danny chanted out the word 'No.' as if it were a magical chant that could buy him some time, spare his poor wife who doesn't know a lot of things about tending to a farm and especially not how to ward off an angered cow that seemed to spread an illness that over time had claimed the entire town. He thought about how each year, three families would disappear and no one ever heard from them ever again. 

His feet pounded against the dirt path. His long sprint was beginning to take a significant toll on his boy. EVELYN! EVELYN! MY LOVELY EVELYN! He runs faster and faster, but his lungs start to collapse. There just isn't, anyway. His lungs collapse a little, and he begins to wheeze. His eyes now face downwards, and he sees the damn things everywhere. All are painted in red. 

No. NO! His eyes roamed the landscape. He was close to the farm, but all he could see was that the lights were on. He also noticed that damned cow banging on the back cellar door. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! It sounded as if gunshots were being fired off to start the race. 

"HEY, DOTTIE, BACK OFF!" Danny was sweating profusely now, and not just from the run. The dots had begun to fill in his vision and make him feel dizzy. He collapsed to his knees, and his legs felt like lead. He finally felt the colony of dots that had accumulated. They were everywhere in this gooey mass. The smell of rotting flesh burnt the hairs within his nose. 

The sound of wood giving way reaches Danny's ears. 

No! 

He dragged himself even though he was beginning to lose some of his vision. There was only about a minute of sunlight left. His body felt heavy and the dots crawling all over his skin felt like an army of fire ants. He moved his decaying muscles forward, and he needed to see her. He needed to save her. Evelyn. 

4:07 pm Dusk was here, and the sun was gone. Danny barely managed to drag himself up the stairs. The front door had been beaten down by the beastly cow. He sees Evelyn's decomposed body full of spotted spores and green goo. If it weren't for her long onyx hair, he wouldn't have been able to tell it was her at all. A shattered saucer and cup surrounded her remains. 

All Danny could feel was pure anguish. He wanted to cry to the heavens of her name and of her injustice. He no longer had a voice, and red spots began to fill in the airway of his throat. He was succumbing to Dottie's disease. 

Before his eyes closed one final time in the corner of the room, he could see the outline of the deranged cow that brought disease and death. Smoke poured off from its nostrils. It let out a loud hellish 'moo,' and with that, Danny, too, died and became a part of the blobby mass right next to his wife. 

[eleinwrites]

Fae-Blood Teal

1,000-word Writing Challenge: genre: fantasy; location: nail salon; object: night light

Summary: The past comes to visit a centuries-old draconic war hero who now runs a nail salon catering to the city-dwelling dragons. Not everything is what it seems.

=====  When the Lord of Earth and Sky, His Majesty, Ruler of all Dragons, stepped into Dak’s Nail Salon, it was only natural that the lights went out, leaving the shop dark but for the luminescence of that glorious figure and also from a novelty glow-in-the-dark nightlight that Dak kept at the reception desk, shaped like a sleepy dragon with a startled-looking fae on its back.

“You might want to work on your human form,” Dak told His Majesty. “Unless you intended to be disruptive, of course.”

The lights recovered, flickering back to full strength, masking His Majesty’s glow, but revealing his grimace. His Majesty hated not being the best at whatever he did, which helped him rule the dragons, but was a hindrance for learning new skills, like looking human.

“What are you doing here?” Dak asked His Majesty while they both ignored the other clients making hasty departures, manicures half-done.

Dak’s Nail Salon had been one of the first to cater to the relatively new community of city-dwelling dragons who stayed in human form, neglecting their purpose as dangerous predators destined to rule the skies and all below them.

The great rulers—of which His Majesty was currently the Greatest—had special servants to sharpen and polish their deadly claws.

The great warriors—among whom His Majesty numbered as well—sharpened their claws by raking them against stone and the bones of their enemies.

Dragons who weren’t great just chewed their claws into shape and called it good enough.

City-dwelling dragons—including Dak—trimmed their claws with the special obsidian blades necessary even in human form. City dwellers at nail salons also had their hands and feet massaged and got nail coloring as well, plating naturally black claws in gold or silver or more daringly scarlet or teal polish: scarlet like human blood or teal like fae blood.

Legends described Dakarth of the Forge as having claws that shone liquid teal with the blood of his enemies, never drying before it was renewed. The veracity of that was deeply suspect, not least because of the size differential between dragons and fae: an adult dragon wouldn’t dip claws in fae blood so much as awkwardly smear a bunch of fae against a claw. Plenty of dragons had killed fae by the hundreds, but it certainly hadn’t resulted in the smooth glossy finish of the Fae-Blood Teal that Dak was currently sporting.

“When I discovered my childhood companion had survived, even so diminished, I had to come see myself.”

“Well, here I am. And diminished seems a bit harsh.”

“Injured then. You didn’t need to hide. I would have guarded you under my wing.”

Dak sighed. “I know you would have. But I wanted to go out and see things.”

“Then I shall be glad that you have done so. But now I must warn you. The fae queen is up to something. I know not what, but we may need your skill if we are to face the swarms once more.”

The war between dragons and fae had ended in a negotiated peace after the fall of Dakarth of the Forge. Prior to that, the ongoing conflict had been considered pest control by the dragon hierarchy and terraforming by the fae swarms: Serious and deadly, yes, but not really the type of thing that ended in peace talks.

Until Dakarth of the Forge had dramatically shifted to human form mid-battle and demonstrated that he could communicate with both fae and dragons in that form, before just as dramatically getting swatted by both sides. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had been effective. Peace talks were held with both sides acknowledging the other as people. A thousand years later it was still a rough transition, the current fae queen was the same one who had only reluctantly agreed to stop treating dragons as particularly rich sources of raw material, and it was His Majesty’s direct predecessor who had grudgingly agreed to transfer Fae Issues to the Minister of Diplomatic Relations rather than the Minister of Public Sanitation.

“I’m pretty sure the fae queen is just getting old and preparing to transfer power.”

“Then her successor will desire to prove herself; we must prepare.”

According to the newspaper, the fae queen’s successor was involved in shady financial dealings with big agriculture but the dragon host wouldn’t be able to address that. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” Dak said, “but I don’t think I can help.”

“It is good to see you with my own eyes. I know that if I have need and call to you, you will respond, Dakarth of the Forge.”

Dak sighed. “I missed you too.”

His Majesty was right: if he called out, Dak would try to help. Somehow. Probably not the way His Majesty wanted though. It was good to see His Majesty, but even better to have him gone again.

“A thousand years later, he finds you alive, after your death signaled the end of the war, and he isn’t suspicious at all?” said the fae who had been standing as still as possible on top of the dragon nightlight.

“We grew up together. My nails are still Fae-Blood Teal,” Dak pointed out defensively.

“Yeah, even without any polish, because you have fae blood. It didn’t occur to him to question your loyalty?”

“I am perfectly loyal! Dragons survived the war that would have killed them.”

“But at what cost.”

With the ballooning dragon population, many stayed mostly in their smaller human forms. It was easier to get enough food for a human body than for a dragon body. The leaders might spend most of their days in the mountain ranges, eating whole yak, but most dragons lived in apartments and ate takeout. And got their nails trimmed and buffed in salons rather than in bloody battle.

Dak shrugged and started cleaning up the salon. “All things change in time. I don’t think living as humans is too high a price for living.”

[restingcorpse]

[dcyliqht]

forever thinking about the naked in manhattan photoshoot