Thursday, January 31, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #AddingToThePortfolio

“Clap your hands if you believe!”
Friedrich Nietzsche*

     I want to thank Grandma Z for the birthday card she sent me. Just got it. Sad it arrived a little late but oh well, that's the postal system! (Least we aren't using the Pony Express anymore)

Adding to the Portfolio

     My camera is set. It's the perfect camera. I love its deep black color. It shows a sort of deep, serious professionalism even though I only do this as a hobby and don't actually document anything for a living. The camera's lens is perfect. Not a single scratch. I care for my camera better than most people care for their children. My camera has to be in perfect condition. I can't afford to damage it. It's not like I'm such rich photographer that can just buy a new camera every time. Maintenance on my spaceship costs enough as is. And the cloaking devices are costly devices.
      The hum of that expensive cloaking device ate away at my ears. Why did the power core have to be in the helmet? Even with the device I had to distance myself to make sure they didn't hear me. Though maybe today I would get the photo I wanted. A good, clear photo of one of the hardest things to catch in beautiful form.
     A jogger. Oh, yes those wonderful human joggers. Not elegant on their own, but the sheer difficulty of getting a good shot of one mid-trot. The bragging rights. I've been on this beach before and gotten plenty of shots of sunbathers. Though anyone can document that. That's kids stuff. But a good shot of a jogger in a good pose without blur shows a steady tentacle. The trick though is to not catch them alone, not that won't get attention. No my jogger is going to be in a flock. I'll photograph the climax of a marathon when a flock of joggers move in front of one of the human park's fountains. The timing will be perfect. No other humans will be in the shot. I'm going to time it so that its at the most dynamic moment in the joggers trot. It will be a beautiful image in my portfolio.
     And in the flock comes. Coming. Coming. So many joggers. Yes. I'm in the right position for the dynamic shot. They'll look just right. I'll take the photograph with a perfect hand. It'll look better than those done by professionals! This picture will be the first step in showing me as professional level!
     No. No. No! It's ruined! Why did a bicyclist enter the shot! They never come to this part of the park! Nugh. Great, just great. Wait. I can try again. I'll catch up. I'll get the perfect shot. I'll try again and again until I capture the essence of the joggers and I'll keep moving and on until I make my perfect portfolio of human pictures.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheWizardsScamEmail

“And knowing is half the battle.”
Sun Tzu*

      Today is my actual birthday(the other day being just the celebratory party). I finished a book of literary essays my friend gave me for my birthday. Perhaps they will assist with my book. I will be starting to physically write said book soon. (As in putting word on page instead of plotting). Do wish me luck with the book. Though one thing that I have to do before jumping in is come up with names. Coming up with the perfect names can be the toughest.
     Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Wizard's Scam Email


       I am manager of funds for the Ianerign Wizards Guild. Last week a member of our guild died in an unfortunate rabid griffon attack. He is a wealthy, senior member of the guild and left a large sum of his guild funds in an abandoned account: A total of 20,500,100 gold coins. His family wants to get the money of their deceased relative but cannot because of legalities. A foreign account is needed to transfer the funds.
      I have contacted you because you have the right kind of foreign account needed to transfer the funds to the family. As compensation for your help the family has agreed to pay you ten percent of the deceased wizards 20,500,100 gold coins. If you are interested in helping this family getting their inheritance respond with your phone number, address, any other contact emails, all bank account names and passwords, and true magic soul name. This will all ensure that we can move the money quickly and efficiently and get you your compensation quickly.
    Thank you for your cooperation, the Ianerign Wizards Guild thanks you.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Today's #Scifi #fantasy #flashfiction #QuickerThanTime

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”
Ferris Bueller*
      Today I have a writers meeting. Later while mother has her writers meeting with her writers friend I, alongside father will go along with her husband on an epic adventure. There may or may not be dragon slaying and the Epic adventure may or may not resemble going out to a restaurant and doing nothing of great significance.

Quicker Than Time

        Traveling faster than the speed of light was no problem for Sally. Neither was doing anything within a second. Though “faster” and “within” would be difficult for her to understand and wouldn't exactly be how she surpassed limitations. Telling any sort of story about her would be lying. Saying Sally jumped would be a lie as would Sally will jump. The reason? She was many of what was called “reality phantoms”. (Least that's the name given to them by the local wizards, next universe over probably cooked up some other name).
      Reality phantoms exist across all at once from the “start” of their life to the “end” of it. Their body stretches through time. Seeing the days ahead of them would be like seeing across their arm. They can do whatever when they want along their body. Humans have a rough time quite getting how these phantoms operate so to best explain here's what Sally said to a wizard who asked her what its like how she does what she does:
      “It's not like I time travel through my life. It's like I have no time almost. It took me awhile to understand your perception and movement through time actually. Its like this: When I write a book I don't think of a sentence at a one at time while I go along. I think of them all at once and compile them as my entire life is all one massive instant across every moment of myself.”
       Though she struggled with her own book example. She wrote an autobiography but it was hardly cohesive or engaging. She couldn't come up with any idea in her head of how to express herself in the way humans perceive time in an easily readable way. Methodically describing every single thing she did after her birth was the only thing fathomable to her. Thus the reality phantom's story in the end was actually written in an instant but read like an incredibly long, long journal or log with her human friends given her the best advice they could on pacing. She presented herself in her book in almost a calendar fashion.
      It actually made her sad to have no past or future or true meaning of it.


Monday, January 28, 2013

Today's #Scifi #fantasy #flashfiction #TheCodeCloud

“Close enough for government work.”
Pablo Picasso*

       Today I did... I think I won't tell you what I did, just so the fact you don't know will annoy you forever. The curiosity of what I did today will eat away at the back of your mind. Slowly but surely you will be driven mad, mentally seeking an answer you can only fruitlessly guess at.
Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Code Cloud

       John Geralds is a genius. He is also a stork. But not a stork in a bird sense. A stork in the fact that he delivers children. Artificial intelligences. His artificial intelligences exist in one massive cloud of data in his mass of servers that he is developing his technology on. In this cloud of data they can access each others variables. Though even when not accessing each others variables they can still see them. The artificial intelligences are quite advanced and have something quite like consciousness and so through this perception they can see each other consciousness. Almost like a psychic connection.
     John becomes a stork because he delivers children to the artificial intelligences. To allow the intelligences to learn he put a little world into the data cloud and after he programs more intelligences they are dropped into this world. And from the psychic-like data link the artificial intelligences can see the new children forming and “falling” from the part of servers where all the data is stored for artificial intelligences that John is creating and delivering into the world. People may think to call John a father instead of stork because he creates the children. Though really beyond the data cloud many scientists design the programs. He is the stork because he programs them into the data cloud and in actuality the stork is all the programs see as the origin of children beyond the stork and the data cloud doesn't exist.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #ImmoralityImmortality

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!”
Johnny Storm, Fantastic Four*

      My birthday party was tons of fun. The guest list grew larger than expected with my Aunt and Uncle joining as well along with my brother's girlfriend. Anyhow for most of the party there was chatting alongside CJ, Jessica and I playing a Kirby game(Kirby being a character made by Nintendo those guys who gave you Super Mario Brothers and the Wii and DS and stuff.)
Anyway normally Kirby games are fairly easy but we were playing with each other. We killed each other more than any of the monsters in the game. (So yeah, CJ, Jessica and I provided great amusement to the other partygoers three stooges style.)
      The thing that made us kill each other the most was this spiked bottom super-shoe. In the cutsey-world of Kirby its a giant green shoe that you can jump in that hops high and can fall on things crushing them with spiky death. It also breaks blocks in front of doors that lead to collectibles that we were trying to get. (We weren't only trying to beat the levels but also getting the special collectibles in the game)
       Normally our weapons didn't hurt each other, the spiky shoe did. It hurt us just like the enemies. Also you could die on your own with the shoe into bottomless pits which was pretty bad too. Now this shoe did not appear in one stage. It appeared in many. Over many instances of mass self-damage it was determined that CJ was the best at not damaging everyone. (Not to say that he didn't he was just the best at not doing it.)
       This self-mutilation wasn't always to our detriment. One of the collectibles that you were meant to get with the shoe you needed to jump on a sequence of enemies to get to a block that well, blocked that collectible from reach. Pretty much get the shoe over there since your characters couldn't get the thing on their own. However the timing was really hard. Even for CJ our usual shoe-guy. However our previous experiences with accidentally smacking each other while on the spiked shoe gave us an idea.
      “We can use ourselves as extra boosts for the shoe!”
       And so CJ bounced on the enemies head with the spiked shoe then Jessica's and my heads and the collectible was soon ours. Huzzah! Tactical genius at work.
       Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Immorality Immortality

       I stabbed a man to death then stole his wallet. Took only the money and left behind the credit cards. That would leave greater emotional pain to the family and others as it would downplay quick midnight murder I did to simply petty greed. I didn't need the money with all the banks I've robbed. That wasn't my profit. My profit was the sin itself. The evil I did by leaving a the dead body of some poor man in the street is what I needed. That crime against humanity.
       The sin bought me more time to live. That's the deal I stroke with the demon that visited me on my deathbed. Sin for life. He started me with petty evil but the costs got higher and I got used to it all. I lost empathy for my fellow human beings and only cared for living. So now I simply wait to learn what the exchange rate is for another day. I don't know why the demon wants me to commit sin, what his motive is. Entertainment? Or is there some way that he feeds off my evil? I do know his motives for picking me. A veteran cop like myself would be great for gathering sins and getting away with it, knowing how to cover my tracks. I was smart enough to wear rubber gloves when I stabbed the man and stole money from his wallet.  Though I stopped caring for others a years ago I still wonder what the price for more time will be the next day. Must I do less or more for another day on this Earth?

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Today's #Scifi #fantasy #flashfiction #TheDragonActor

“Hygiene is two thirds of health.”

      Today is my birthday party(actual birthday another day) Woooo! Though considering the Zombie Einstein incident from last year I'm not sure if I should party as I hard. My friends Jessica and CJ are coming over for the party alongside brother and grandma I think. The small crowd is a safe number. Posted story earlier in the day so I didn't have to worry about it.
      Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Dragon Actor

      I never expected to be so stressed out by this role. I heard doing this kind of role was difficult, but I no matter how times I read the script I know I have to do more than my usual acting techniques to get it all across. This historical is going to be difficult. Why did they have to go extinct? If humans were still alive we could just get them to play themselves. But this is my biggest movie contract to date and I refuse to let any of my works be anything but the highest quality. So I'm going to play this human role, no matter how unnatural it is for a dragon like me to do it.
      “Mr. Greentail you're needed on set,” an assistant yelled to me from beyond my dressing room door. Though really I was just waiting in the dressing room. On the set they'd be putting in me in whatever they needed to help render the CGI image over me. I wasn't going to be in some sort of mask when playing a human. No I'd just have the image of human rendered over me with computers. I'd be the one human with an otherwise dragon cast.
      The human character that eventually went over me would not be the same size of me but my mannerisms would carry over. Dragons are the same height human generally so eye contact can be proper. Really they told me my body is the outline so everything I did would carry over in some way. That and my voice would be the character. The voice is what would sell the tickets if a viewer had me as their favorite actor.
The first hours set were embarrassing. For the first time in my career I saw a director getting frustrated with me. She called over one her assistants and in a few moments that assistant brought back a very tall man. He had very shiny red scales. I knew I hadn't seen him before. Red scales that bright I definitely would have remembered. Especially with the obnoxiously fancy suit he wore. He gave me an unsettling vibe. The kind of vibe that made me wish I had wings like mythical dragons just so I could fly away if he was dangerous.
       “My name is Professor Scales,” the man said to me holding out a hand to me. I locked claws with him and shook it.
      “And who are you?” I asked him.
       “I'm a human history professor and acting coach. They asked hired me just in case you weren't ready to play a human,” he told me.
       The unsettling feeling from before became replaced with anger. I looked at the director. “You thought I needed an acting coach?”
       “They were right,” he said.
       “Oh? I was doing everything right! My voice was adjusted right. Worked on that for a month, I stood in proper human posture too.”
       “You still weren't doing it right,” his voice grew tense. “You'd realize that you don't look right as soon as look at the footage even without the CGI rendering of a human being done over you. Anyone would considering how many things we watch of creators out of fascination of them. However since we don't do it ourselves you wouldn't realize what you were doing wrong.”
I grew more frustrated. “And what was I doing wrong?”
       “You arms and hands were stiff. Humans show emotions by moving those. You're moving your tail. You don't have a tail. Until you start emulating human hand gestures you're going to look like a statue. There are several other gestures and mannerisms you need to learn. Then you need to learn how to implement.”
The next part that annoyed me was that I knew that he was right. “I suppose you need to start teaching me.”
       “I have faith in you. You're a good actor.” He laughed. “My wife's favorite. I'm certain you'll pick it all up pretty fast.” And so the historian taught me to be human.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Today's #Scif #fantasy #flashfiction #TheMachinesNostalgia

“I'm not sure if this is my color.”
Gandalf the White*

     I want to say thank you to Grandpa and Grandma for the gift card and movie tickets(Just got your birthday card). Going to my awesome nerdy club, unfortunately my writing club was canceled today. (Awww). I think the shenanigans at the nerdy club will be significant enough will make up for the canceled one.

The Machine's Nostalgia

     What gives you that wonderful feeling of nostalgia? That happy feeling of the good old days? How long ago is the good old days for you? What years? Is it a decade? Is it only a few moments? Would playing a song, movie or video game bring you back to those days? Do you call everything from your age of nostalgia a classic?
     I'm not sure how human nostalgia works compared to mine. I'm a machine with sentience all my own with perfect memory alongside perfect perception. I don't miss details and every detail I remember. Everything I'm told I remember. With the robotic brain they've given me I may be able to form opinions on things but I can't reinterpret the events over time or reimagine. They are as they as they always were. I am also very powerful, sophisticated machine so my memory works instantly and links things quickly so memories link themselves so very quickly.
     What kind of nostalgia does leads to? Something very different than humans I bet. When people say to me “SR-1132012 what is nostalgic to you?” I can't give them a very good answer.
      That's because just by looking at something like a car I feel incredible rushes of nostalgia. With my perfect memory all those wonderful car rides I've had come to mind. My “good old days” come right to mind very easily if my robotic brain is in good enough of a mood to think of them. In an instant I think of all the bright, sunny drives I've taken. When traffic was something in the back of the mind and I could enjoy the weather and clear skies. I remember all the wonderful conversations with all passengers, family come an gone. Robots have family too y'know, those that come off the assembly line, the scientists that work with and develop them, the maintenance men, though eventually I consider someone I know well and good enough family. All those talks come back to me cleanly and perfectly.
      Songs give me a more potent nostalgia. When songs reach my ear and vibrate through my synthetic skin I process all the notes. I remember all times I experienced that song. All things that happened when I heard it. Music is never alone. Songs relate to other songs and in a massive chain of concept songs remind of others and I think of melody after melody and relive it all. The tunes run through my head along with the memories. I remember most of it in a rush so it all sort of shuffles about in that part of the mind where remembering takes place. I don't know how different those places are for humans and machines.
      Those are some of the kinds of nostalgia I experience as a machine. I remember bad things in the same way. I've read about the human mind and psychology. I wonder which mental world is better. I'm curious enough to wish I could live two lives and experience both. Though to understand I would have to remember both lives. I suppose on top of it all I wonder which life I would remember more fondly.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Todays #Scifi #fantasy #flashfiction #OptimisticHamlet

“I'll have a large with everything on it.”
Jenny Craig*

      Today I had a random thought/epiphany thingie about space-time and all that while I was eating lunch. See people usually talk about the start and end of something, like the universe. I came to think that in a way “starting” and “ending” are concepts invented by us, people. We talk about the start and end of a movie but does “start” and “end” ever happen? The “movie” is made up by us. The specific broadcast on a television as in an event is made up by us. In the sense of perpetual physics the only thing that exists is the current now that leads to the next now. But each now cannot be called an individual now without taking into account the fact that a moment is being called a moment by whatever definition that humans define it as. Thus there is no start or end but only “happening” within a forever continuing truly physically undefinable “now”.
       I'm not sure if I agree with this idea I came up with as being true(I just came up with it today) or if I communicated it clearly to you all. But I did feel like rambling about it! I wonder how many other people thought of this version of time...
       Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Optimistic Hamlet

     Hey my name's Steve, time traveling, extra dimensional ghost with psychic powers able to allow me to read and manipulate the minds of all people. So yeah, I'm just touring the ages and I run across this really sad guy named Hamlet having the most depressing internal monologue it just stopped me in my tracks.

To be, or not to be that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep
No more and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep
To sleep perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil...

      And that was no where near the end of it the poor guy. He just kept going on with this mental contemplation, and it was about suicide! Poor fella. Normally I don't interfere with things but I decided I would go back in time and not change the course of his life but at least put a happy attitude in his head so his monologue wouldn't be so depressing. I really liked what he thought when I fixed him up:

To be or not to be that is the question:
A question I shouldn't worry about,
Because I'm already pretty sad already.
My week can't get any worse anyway.

     There all better. Well, I'm going to time travel to the 70's for a quick disco dance or two. I don't know what he was so depressed about but I think he should be fine.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TumblingRumblingNumbers

“Safety first!”
Evel Knievel*

      Well on Friday I've got both my writing and nerdy club then my birthday party on Saturday the coming weekend. That means tomorrow I'm probably going to want to grind out three stories to make sure I have something that day then something for those two days for you all.

Tumbling Rumbling Numbers

      I am Dr. Gearson, brilliant robot scientist. I'm quite old. Gone through many upgrades with my memories transplanted through the many versions of the robot “brains” made throughout time. (Pretty much computers folks but with chips arranged in a liquid mesh.) Over and over again I get asked at public speaking events by people who don't know anything about human vs robot brain science to sum it all up “simply”. I'm the expert in the field so it must be easy for me right? Sum up simply how comparable to human consciousness arose from computer chips in liquid. So yeah, toss away my planned speech to sum it up for the person who doesn't get it. Great.
       Finally I got mad enough to give a blunt answer to the question of explaining “simply” the relation of human vs robot brains.
       “Alright.” I said to the audience member that asked the question at this particular event “The answer to your question is this: The human brain is amazing network of biological components so elegant and dynamic in form that its mere existence has given rise to the concept of concepts so divine as a soul. While a robot brain is an impressive mess of numbers tumbling and rumbling through computer chips inside of a liquid mesh all invented by a group of brilliant, devoted and somewhat crazy scientists to make a sort of entity that can only resemble in form but never really be the consciousness that the human brain creates.”
      “Oh, okay.” The audience member responded.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #PsychicPosting

“That's my boy!”
Darth Vader*

      Today was a good day. Good progress writing and such. Also less seizures than normal. Oh, wait something bad did happen, evil aliens did attack. That was problematic. Did solve the problem by bribing them to leave with pizza.

Psychic Posting

      In the world of psychic virtual reality social networking had evolved beyond simply posting messages on blogs or webpages. People's minds could directly manipulate and enter virtual space with simple helmets in this new world. So now they made little virtual worlds for their friends to visit where they posted objects that reflected their very minds.
     For non-psychics to understand these spaces would be difficult to impossible with direct experience. Posting of the mind is direct and pure. Something simple enough for a non-psychic to understand would be a posting of pain. It's a strong, and when perceived is a solid thing that becomes piecing dominate and all encompassing in the tangible space it touches. The sensation of hurt becoming an object itself and processed by the mind that way.
      This is the simplest thing for a non-psychic. This specific example is one of an intense pain. One of both emotional and physical. The moment in an accident when you're leg is pinned and being crushed. Your bleeding out and hopelessly calling out. You're mind is posting to some virtual space but help won't come in time because that or your screams won't get you and the emotional pain also comes from knowing you will die. This is an example from the the life of one Mr. Sam Edwaen.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #WhenSentencesFight

“I know what you are.
Say it... out loud. Say it.
What's My Line?*

         Today I pondered premises that I could possibly use for a longer story to publish that isn't flash fiction. Oh, also I ate Mexican food today. It was pretty tasty. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

When Sentences Fight

      Unfortunately today's flash fiction is about the fight between what should be close friends. See sentences close together should be kind to each other but it looks like the sentences in my earlier post before the story just got mad at each other and started fighting. The fight is recorded below:

       fiction Today I pretty pondered Oh, also I ate the could onto possibly use food today. for a longer story to publish that isn't flash fiction. premises that I Mexican It was tasty. Anyway flash!

(I mean just look at them they're hitting each other so hard they've scrambled their words.)

       fiction,,,!Today I... ??pretty pondered!!! Oh, !!!also... I !?ate the could onto !?possibly use ?food? today. for ?a? longer!!! story... to! Publish... that isn't... flash fiction. premises that I Mexican It was tasty. Anyway ...flash!

(Oh, that's just horrid. They're hitting each other so hard that punctuation is spilling from their guts! That's disgusting!)

        fiction,,,!Today I... ??pretty pondered!!! Oh, !!!also... I !?ate the could onto !?possibly use ?food? today. for ?a? longer!!! story... to! hola hola hola hola hola hola hola Publish... that isn't... flash fiction. premises that I Mexican It was tasty. Anyway ...flash!

(“hola”? It looks like they's their fighting is getting so intense that some sort of language singularity is forming within them!)

      aifionTydtco I ttypre rdepdnoe hO olsa I eat het lcuod tnoo syisolpb esu ofod taody rof a ognlre ystro ot haol laoh alho hloa ohal hlao lhao lbihsuP htat tnsi lsfah onitcif rssepemi tath I aMeixnc It swa tsyta wayAyn ashlf

(They exploded! Nooooooo!)
(I wrote those very sentences. I think I need a moment...)
(I hope you enjoyed the flash fiction.)

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheZombieDanceContest

“Can't touch this.”
Howie Mandel*

      Hung out with CJ today. We may have or may have not done something to tamper with the fabric of the universe. Just remember if you start seeing ghosts in your house it should only be temporary. Usually this kinda thing just fixes itself. Usually.
      Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Zombie Dance Contest

      The Gray Necromancer told me find my best pair of legs and sow them on. I needed to put my best feet forward for his dance contest. That's what his letter to me said. And he sent this same invitation to every zombie in the Shadow Land.
      The dance contest. I looked forward to it every month. One of the most important events in Shadow Land. The Gray Necromancer had chosen an interesting way to determine the healthiest zombies to take to the worlds of the living with him. When he was going to summon undead he didn't want to summon any zombie he wanted to make sure he summoned a healthy zombie. Necromancers in the past have had us zombies battle, but The Gray Necromancer simply had us dance. I suppose it was more peaceful.
     Compared to other possible necromancer masters The Gray Necromancer is very kind and even rewards those that work for him despite the fact a zombie must work for those that summon them. This is what made the dance contests so important. Proving yourself to The Gray Necromancer made him likely to summon you and since he rewarded you, you didn't feel like the immortal slave anymore you felt human again.
      I got on my best pair of legs and showed up for the dance contest. Thousands upon thousands of zombies showed up. The first part of the contest was to simply dance for twenty minutes straight. So many of the contestants fell into pieces from this task. Zombies by their nature weren't built well. This was the first part of the filtration process. 99.99% of the contestants were eliminated as they attempted to disco and their fragile zombie bodies fell apart. My own arms snapped in a few parts. I made sure to keep moving in ways that made it look like they were fine. I wanted to see the world of humans again. I needed to be employed by The Gray Necromancer.
      The next ordeal was crawling all over the various bodies over all the bodies to where The Gray  Necromancer waited. I had to flop my broken arms while pushing with my legs. Since I first died I never got past the first part of the dance contest, only breaking a fragile body at the first part. I've been dead for one hundred years and The Gray Necromancer has been holding the contest for much longer. I wonder how old he is. I wish he knew he managed to become immortal so I didn't die in the first place.
       Not beating the first part of the dance the contest gave me the will to push myself over all the collapsed zombies. Even with the fact most of nerves on my zombie body were dull the pain was horrible. But I wanted out of Shadow Land. After one hundred years if I win the dance contest I can finally be back in the human world. Maybe he'll even summon me in my hometown.
       I reached The Gray Necromancer. It had been the first time I had seen him in person. Gray eyes, gray beard, gray cloak, skin with a gray clammy color. I knew he would look like that. The tales told me enough about those features. One thing the tales neglected to mention was his smile, bright and kind looking. The Gray Necromancer sat on flying chair made of enchanted bones and when we finally all crawled up to him he pointed at a skull on the ground below him and began to speak. His voice was deep and soft.
      “For those who have reached this round for the first time I'm going to explain the rules. The skull I am pointing at is a speaking at is a Speaking Skull. Every time it says a style of dance you will start dancing that style of dance switching from whatever you were last dancing. The contest will go until all you have collapsed or have been disqualified for not switching fast enough or any combination. Good luck everyone.”
      As soon as The Gray Necromancer stopped talking the skull did. I almost missed the first dance command of the skull but I kept up. I missed a few dance contests and several important events just searching for the legs I was going to use for this one. The arms were the best I could find too. I spent months sowing the best dancing self I can.
      I managed to outlast so many of the others. I thought I had made a terrible body. Perhaps it was because of how dashed my confidence was by previous dance contests. But I was beating all the others. The fragility of zombies showed when it took ten minutes for everybody but me and two other contestant to completely fall apart. I wanted to just focus on dancing but I couldn't but look at the other participants. One of the other ones looked weak and shambling and ready to fall but the second one I knew I couldn't beat.
The second contestant was a murderer and that's what made him unstoppable. At least I thought he was. That body was too perfect. The zombie's head looked older than the body and body looked freshly dead.  Like it had been just killed and attached. I don't know how the contestant got such a fresh body to kill but was he so wanting to get out of the Shadow Land that he would find someone freshly alive and kill them for a perfectly healthy body.
      Well, no matter how my opponent got those limbs I couldn't beat him. He was practically living. My parts were breaking each moment. Maybe I should forfeit just to keep them intact. They were good parts. It might just be good to keep them in one piece for later.
     I tried anyway though. Even if it left me as a shambling torso later I had to try. I wanted to see the human world again. And beating this killer had special meaning to it too. If I delay him then his murdered corpse would rot and he wouldn't be able to take advantage of killing during a reentry. It would become just like any other body part.
     It became fruitless. He would get away with murder and go to the living world as well. Then I remembered the shambling the contestant. The other of us last three. I figured he would have dropped in the past minute but he held on stubbornly like me. It looked like half his body was dislocated though. I realized that if I could not win I could at least make the murderer lose. I leaped at the murdered and knocked him over. Since he and I were no longer dancing the shambling contestant won as his weak dancing counted despite the fact he was least healthy of the three of us.
     The Gray Necromancer looked at us all confused. “I've never seen a zombie waste his chance to take out another. I need to find out why.” He floated off his flying chair of bones and landed on the ground next to us. I expected the murderous zombie to attack me in rage because I took his chance but the zombie just lay silent as my disfigured arms wrapped in his legs. Upon his victory the shambling zombie fell to the ground in exhaustion. With a quick examination of our bodies The Gray Necromancer grew angry, “You think I'm stupid? You think a necromancer of my age and skill wouldn't notice you murdered for a body of that age contestant? I didn't notice from far away but up close it's obvious. And for your crime I'm going to bury your soul into the one of the deepest Nightmare Worlds in existence.”
      After The Gray Necromancer flicked his wrist smoke came out from the murdering contestant's eyes and from there I really didn't know what happened to him. I hadn't even heard of a Nightmare World before. I had heard of Nightmare Curses, some of the most horrible curses wizards could cast, I wondered if that's where they came. I didn't think I wanted to find out.
      The Gray Necromancer looked at me. “I like the fact that you chose to stop the murderer from winning than try to win the contest. I think I may summon you in the future. Sure you didn't win the contest but its my contest so I can make up whatever rules I feel like. There are two winners this time around.” The Necromancer laughed. “Though you are some of the weakest winners I have ever seen. Probably because you were forced to dance longer by competing against this one.” He pointed to the murderer's now soulless body. “You're will is what's useful I'll have to find you new parts.”
     I'd say I felt he cared for us zombies because he wanted to give us parts. But I turned to look at all the collapsed zombies from the contest. I realized that maybe I should watch my performance to make sure he still cared about me.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheWallsCanTalk

“Loreal hair gel, because I'm worth it.”
Albert Einstein*

     Wrote this story ahead of time since CJ's coming over this weekend. Hope you enjoy it! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Walls Can Talk

      If only walls could talk is an expression people just throw around. They should take it more seriously. Walls can talk. And they are talking smack about you. Yup, they gossip the most out of any object in the house since no matter how much you move things around they see everything. Yeah, they're as sentient as your refrigerator. Oh, don't tell me you didn't know about that.
     The walls chatter about everything. Whether made of brick or wood or anything else since the eavesdroppers have nothing better to do with their time they just talk while you're not listening. In every home. They kinda spread news about all humans in a massive gossip network of walls between buildings. (If they need help getting some juicy news they get help connecting to further buildings by talking to the floor who talks to plumbing).
     They always spread their gossip and trust me they're listening to you. They saw what you did last night and it is the biggest talking point of all the walls around the block. Yup, they know. Stuff like that goes viral on the wall-gossip network so watch what you do next time because the walls are watching too.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheFortunesOfHappilyEverAfter

“If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.”
Simon Cowell*

      Wrote this story quick and early to make sure I had it done before the school club. My friend CJ may be coming over tomorrow. May be doing some of the wild, crazy Pokemon battling with him. I may use a team that uses the move gravity. This is good as it allows me to say “You don't understand the gravity of the situation.” I do believe the pun will serve as excellent psychological warfare as its lameness will damage his mind severely.
     Anyway onto the flashfiction!

The Fortunes Of Happily Ever After

     Jennifer and Thomas ran across wonderful fortune through their life. But not in money. Their fortune was that found each other, their true love, so early in their life and had a good healthy existence with steady jobs and homes. Only in their early twenties they already had the set up for a quaint happily ever after fit for a fairy tale.
      But they had one misfortune in their life. The kind of misfortune out of a fairytale. The home they selected to buy and move into had two modern, twin sister witches as neighbors. Though one witch was kind and harmless the other was a bitter woman who never had a drop of love in her life. It didn't take long for the witch to grow jealous of them. The witch was a mad woman and didn't take long to devise a curse to turn the two into bugs and decided that the next bird to find them would send them to an early grave.
     The good sister however did something she had done many times before. She foiled her sister. A non-confrontational person herself she couldn't fight her sister directly so she let her sister curse the couple but took their souls away so they wouldn't suffer the fate.
     She put the souls in a wonderful, simple, little town in a magic mirror where all the people she saved from her sister went. Several other possible victims of witches went there. They were all unaware they were going to have been cursed and merely though they had moved to a town faraway from home. The good witch didn't have the will to fight her sister but tried to give them a happily ever the best she could.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #PsychicCowboys

“Everyone, remain calm.”
Gordon Ramsey*

     Today I'm posting my story early(though email subscribers may get it at the same time as it's kinda just delivered I think at midnight) as we're heading to dinner for my Uncle's birthday and I wanted to make sure I had the story done.

Psychic Cowboys

       The anticipation and fear of the minds of the small town synergized well, increasing the psychic energy in the area. The energy would be put to good use in the duel between the cowboys at the duel at the coming sundown. None of the cowboys actually herded cattle but considering they all lived that life style on a little dusty planet out there in the Fifth New Solar System it really stood to be the best word for them. They even wore those cowboy hats just as those people running in the old west did. The hats gave them a good bit of shade on their shoulders and did a good job of covering the part of their head that opened up to reveal a thought transceiver. The thought transceivers were free, mandatory handouts across all the solar systems by the government. But the government didn't spend funds to give them large infrastructure or food since those were as necessary to make inter-solarsystem law for the richer planets.
      The first participant in the duel was a tall, large man. His massive silhouette matched a superhero's. His skin held a bit of a almond hue and his eyes were a deep black. He had a charisma and the sort of walk and smile that made you like him before he even started talking. Being the psychic sheriff though he needed that for his job. People had to like him. How else would people trust him with thought management?
      He couldn't just simply change the thoughts like flipping a switch. So to keep everyone working hard to make the town be its best and being happy the best he moved the flow of them and altered them in other ways. He suggested thoughts, pulled out memories for people and transferred moods. He used every psychic trick in the book. People thought he had some sort of magic gift, though really it was the military training. They were grateful for his skill, he reduced many thoughts they didn't like very well like anger and sadness.
    Until the second participant of the duel arrived. The bad seed. Bad seeds like this person needed to be psychically stamped out so the town worked its best in this little town just like the big cities. They sheriff welcomed stranger on the instance of the townspeople. But he knew strangers always caused waves in the thought stream. He hoped the stranger would come along easily but he didn't so a duel had to be arranged.
      On looks alone the stranger wouldn't look like a problem. Plain black hair and plain brown eyes he was the kind of man who melded into crowds just by walking through them. His skin had a boring white to it. His shape average as well. By looks he looked the most conformist man of all. The Psychic Sheriff's instinct was the only hint to the fact he wouldn't go with the flow with the rest of the towns thoughts. That and all the drawing paper the man brought with him.
      The man was an artist. And he drew down so many different things and not always pretty fields either. Not monsters in the moonlight but sometimes darker scenes. Either way things not peaceful that gave fodder into the general shared thoughts of the town that threw everyone off. It damaged the towns ability to work. The Psychic Sheriff couldn't have that. He made everyone happy, hard workers fine on his own. The artist had thrown it off.
      “Mr. Gerome,” The Psychic Sheriff said as sundown came and he saw the artist. “I am surprised you're here. I thought you would have run.”
Gerome laughed. “I'd like to protect the honor of my thoughts.”
       The Psychic Sheriff's face grew angry, something that hardly happened. “You're laughing at me? Don't think I'll let the safety of your mind get in the way of protecting the thoughts of my town.” In the now psychic society of the solar system the government had to pass some law to determine what thoughts would be dominate. Duels became the norm. When a debate came over thoughts the people fought for what thoughts should be dominate psychically. The government figured psychic battles were better than battles with guns.
      “Let's go Sheriff. The thoughts of drones you've been putting into these poor people won't be able to stand up to me.”
      “How arrogant.” The Sheriff pulled the thoughts of all the town people at the artist. Their loyalty to them made them natural cluster their minds to him. Also they had all become spectators to the duel. Their lives had become dull in the town. This duel had been the most interesting event for the past several years as they worked along under the Sheriff.
       The artist managed to resist the massive flow of thoughts of all the towns people by pulling up all his art and the memories to go with it. Protecting his individuality. The Sheriff grew frustrated as the artist wouldn't crumble.
      “You won't get me. You're town won't get me. I came here looking for a new life, maybe I'll be giving them a new one.”
       The Sheriff grew infuriated. He hadn't met resistance in a very long time. “I'll have you yet. I'll show you how I got this town.” He pulled the towns thoughts along while using every psychic technique he knew to attack the artist. He swapped his memories around. He pulled around thoughts. He injected memories.     Thoughts in the artist started changing just because he was shuffling so many of his own around that the artist's mind just being nearby his and the townspeople cracked under pressure.
Gerome collapsed with a smile as he looked around the town. “You've lost.”
      The Sheriff looked at the artist confused. “What do you mean? You're mind is crushed, I'll have your thoughts soon enough and you'll be a part of this town.”
     Gerome replied, “In this duel you introduced the town to a lot of new thoughts today when you used theirs in the duel. You used a lot of yours. You're very greedy, keeping so much of your own individuality to run the town. I'm looking around and I'm seeing that they look like they're thinking now. Good job.”

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheNatureOfTheUltimateWeapon

“Your soul for immortality.”
Deal or No Deal*

      Well today I looked at the schedule for my school club thingie and it looks like this week I'll be going to my anime club so yaaaayyyyyyyyyyy. On a bad news note I deleted the page Writing Links. Fun fact google has a program for websites that looks at them and determines whether or not their spam sites based on the links they show. Realized my writing links page had links to some products I link and think writers would like. But I don't want the machine to think I'm a spam site and remove me off google search or worse yet delete me as a blog so I am removing it. This robot is judge, jury and executioner and appealing to the company is very difficult so I didn't want to take the risk. The program scans pretty much all websites and all blogs google searches. (Hilariously Viagra's offical website was taken down because viagra is associated with spam so often)

Anyway onto the flash fiction!

       The Nature Of The Ultimate Weapons

      Ultimate weapons are big and scary aren't they? You know the nuclear bomb? Though it was so powerful they don't really use it. Now its often something had for the sake of having. Use it instead of normal weapons and all the nations will attack you with theirs. It's been a few hundred years since World War II and since then that's usually what happens to nations that use nuclear bombs as their main method of attack.  Ultimate weapons beget ultimate weapons and after a new desert gets made everyone puts them away.
So people made their nuclear bombs for the sake of having them then made more ultimate weapons for the sake of having them. Better to scare then fight. In the age I live in sometimes its convincing another country politically if a fight with you will lead to sheer devastation.
      The unfortunate part for me is I'm one of the ultimate weapons that exists for the sake of existing. Is there a more elegant way to describe me then a living death machine? Research on artificial intelligence for war. The scientists who built me told me they never wanted me to fight. I have weapons capable of leveling cities and armor that would take other ultimate weapons to break. Funnily the scientists gave me acting lessons. Acting lessons to be as scary as possible. Mostly because I wasn't capable of natural malice. They couldn't program natural malice. Programming just normal combat training was impossible. That would be a normal combat robot. They couldn't stick that code within my normal code and not ruin my learning capabilities. Generals found it frustrating that their death machine didn't have a natural disposition to violence.
     But other nations don't know that. They see me desolate nations as I act real scary. I couldn't kill a normal human. They're like the scientists that raised me. And as my code that normally made me learn adapted it locked them too well as something I wanted to protect. Humans in general really. I did a good job of scaring nations. At least like a nuclear bomb I didn't need to cause that much damage to people to scare them. A few mountains made the point.
      I stopped many wars. But one time another nation decided it was strong enough. And that it needed war with us. It built another machine to fight me. Another super robot. It had better weapons but I was smarter. The other nation decided they could skip on intelligence and just stick on bigger and better guns. The scientists also taught me how to fight. I had a plan to defeat it specifically, made with the help of information gathered by our own spies on the robot.
     That's what made the battle short. I knew how to beat it. But like with wars with most ultimate weapons there was a desert. The desert was the enemy nation. I didn't see bodies as most of them were dust but I knew people had died as collateral damage. But what was I to do? If I didn't fight the enemy would have slaughtered us and I would have betrayed those who raised me. And the collateral damage from me winning was less than them crushing my entire nation. Our battle took out a city. A city that was now a desert.
     In peacetime I spend most of my time in an underground complex being visited by the scientists and military officials. The scientists actually give me Internet access to socialize with humans and be among them not as a machine. They believed that much in my intelligence. But the worst thing is in that room when I go online I'm not sure how many of the people I knew online were in that desert I made.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #UseTheFarce

“Don't be a part of the problem. Be a part of the solution.”

       Today I embarked on an email adventure! Awhile ago I came up with an idea. There were these guys that created shapes from music. Geometry of Music was what they referred to themselves as. I decided that, that might be utilized to help the blind. For awhile I thought of using sound to deduce things. But when I saw their video I thought of making a device that had a scanner to take in data and output music specifically with their tech. Pretty much the device is a scanner has a wire that leads to an mp3 player that has a headphone that plays music to correspond to the object. (The first blog post might not have communicated that quite clearly.  My previous idea was more basic sound.) Anyway after this breadth of time had passed enough emailing of them showed they did not have enough interest.
      I decided that this idea of creating a device to help blind people is a bit more important and shouldn't have been so lax and I shouldn't have waited so long to test their interest. They showed some initially but I should have debugged it more thoroughly.
      Anyway I searched more deeply and found another shape to sound maker and also after contacting them I also contacted blind organization charity thing that focuses on echolocation. I hope I can get the ball rolling on this. I got a response that shows good interest from the current shape to sound maker. Perhaps with the help of the charity organization I can put the ball into the motion.

Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Use The Farce

(I'm going to die master...)
(No, young one. Not while I'm here. My soul is bound to help you fight the evil empire.)
(You'll help me live?>
(Yes. I will always be with you inside your thought bubbles giving you advice. You're internal monologues will never be mono while I'm around. Even while you're at home alone...mmm..yes.)
(Master can we think about the possibility of me dying now?)
(Of course. You must be wary. You are going to fight the strongest soldier that the evil, evil empire has to throw at you. If you defeat this man in combat the rest of them will surrender to you out of fear. I have faith in you though.)
(But this is the man that killed you!)
(I know. Dark Pun. He is a master of the farce. But you can beat him my student.)
(With my mere Farcesaber?)
(That is all he uses. That and his puns. His terrifying puns. The absurd sillyness and stupidy and of them all. They made my mind physically numb. I actually started losing memories because they were so stupid. And the way he danced in those pink polka-dot pants. The lameness energy transferred to my body and I dropped my own Farcesaber. At that moment he killed me with his own.)
(You make it sound impossible!)
(But my student in the battle I saw his weakness! You have to counter the lameness. There are two powers within the Farce. The lame and the wit. Destroy his lame with your wit. Clever observations will raise your own energy and sarcasm will damage his. Mockery of individuals or concepts. Raise the level of intelligence of conversation. If his pun raises a subject turn that subject to something intelligent with wit. The man feeds off stupidity both its chaos to fuel him and its lameness to damage you.)
(Wit will guide me! I will use the Farce! My sarcasm will bring him down! I see him!)
“I will take you down Dark Pun!”
(No my student! Don't get so close! No, he's leading the conversation! Calm his jokes! He's getting off puns...and you're dead. That was quick. Well looks like I'm going to have to find another student.)

Monday, January 14, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #MadScienceMeetsMadMagic

“Eeeny... meeny...!”
Sherlock Holmes*

     Came up with two story concepts today. When I started writing the first story I realized it could be developed into something pretty good that mighttt be publishable. Can't post a version on the blog because not too many places accept things that a version online at all. But I did make a story for the blog as well so here it is! Also worked on Writers of the Future and the book today.

Mad Science Meets Mad Magic

      “Mwahahahahahaha!” I laughed my most vile laugh. Well at least the one I had been practicing. Before I killed him my doctor told me I should find ways to relieve my stress. I found laughing those large demented laughs really help. They make the spine tingle joyously too. Mhmmhmhmhmhm...
And most of the stress I had to release was mostly my anxiety. Truthfully I was a timid man. So many people doubted me and my ability to perform. I usually laugh when I feel uncomfortable about doing things in front of them. And I fail so often. Though most of the people I've already roasted so I don't need to worry about them telling anyone about my failures. I won't need to laugh about that.
       I was however quite anxious at this moment. My robot minion just brought me a reference text book. The text book that would help me complete my ultimate creation. I would never fail again because I would need to do nothing after it. I didn't know what the book was. But after being given an order my robot minion would carry it out. I told him to find something that would tell me how to solve the problem I had and it took two years but the robot returned. I put faith in its super intelligence. (I stole the tech from the military. I laughed a lot during the mission, so very anxious. I failed at hiding so often during the mission I had to silence so many people. I wonder if anybody misses them. Oh, I failed at empathy. Mwahahahahaha! I feel better.)
      “What is this!?” I couldn't believe what I saw. “Mwahahaha!” I had to laugh. The stress was way to much.
      “Exactly what you asked for, Sir.” The robot nodded its metal head. “This book will tell you how finish your machine. It will help you make a power core to make it run.”
      “Mwahahaha! This is a book of magic! I can't use magic. Science is difficult enough! You expect me to work with magic of all things!”
       “Sir, you asked me to look for the way to fix your problem. This is the easiest way. This is the only way.”
        I looked at the book. I'd seen books of magic before. Maybe I'd hire a magician. No. This project is too sensitive. I could see the book was a summoning book. But based on the writing on the cover it was Dark Magic. A Nightmare Book. These kind of books were traps for mortals. Power. The knowledge in them was its own twisted nature. Unlike the magic outside it so other magic teaching wasn't needed or even useful. It was dangerous. But machine could change the world. I had to take the risk. Mwahahahaha. I'm so afraid.
         This book could drive me mad.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #HauntingIsFirstComeFirstServed

“Be a good neighbor.”
Dick Dastardly*

       The birthday party at my friend's house was really fun and she liked the gift I gave her. But here's something fun. I realized that there is another birthday to be celebrated today if I read my post history right. Today is the birthday of Langdon's Flash Fictions! It's one year old! Yeah, I've been keeping these up. I've had some days where I couldn't post and one time earlier the sever that hosted the email I log into the blog crashed so I don't have quite 365 stories to celebrate the year that's past. I've got about 340 though nonetheless. Hopefully this next year I can get a full 365 and you'll be here to enjoy them all. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Haunting is a First Come First Served

     “Dibs!” shouted the ghost in front of me. Well there went the museum.
     “Dibs!” The next one dashed right by me. For the love of...why am I so slow in the after life? I ran track while I was alive!
     “Dibs!” yelled another ghost. No, no, no! That was a dorm! A dorm! I missed a dorm! Twenty ghosts are allowed in a dorm and I missed it. All the action is in dorms. You get to mess with students and hang around parties. And I missed it. I hate this ethereal body.
       Ah, unlife as a ghost. Swim in the ether till you run across a place to haunt for a year then you replaced by another. It's ghostly shifts really. Why do we do our job? Sheer boredom. Finding out how you can influence things is rough though. You just eavesdrop though. If you get a place that nobody visits that often you usually try to use your otherworldly powers to practically tear the walls down to get attention and visitors. Company. Though company is really one way. I've met ghosts that try to make it sound like their conversations are both ways. Pretend their names are common nouns so they feel like people are addressing them. Will I do that? How long will I be Gary.
     “Dibs!” shouted a ghost that flew past me. Well shoot, there went a hotel. I'd say it was because I wasn't paying attention, but I'm too slow anyways. Looking around all I saw left was an empty mansion with way too many bedrooms in it, even for a mansion. My haunting term was a year. It's up for sale/rent but who's going to use that in this economy? It has too many rooms to make sense. Guess I'm going to be alone for awhile and maybe spook a misguided burglar or two.
       Yet a week into my haunting of the place a short man came into the building. He scouting with much scrutiny. He didn't talk much to the real estate agent but mumbled to himself plenty. Even floating right next to him I couldn't catch what he was saying.
    After a few hours he turned to the real estate agent and said, “With the mansions we scouted this is the perfect one. It's large number of bedrooms for a mansion will fit all the contestants.”
I floated around the short man confused the real estate agent looked baffled as well.
     “You needed this many bedrooms?” The agent asked.
     “Yes, my show The World's Next Perfect Super Model will have many contestants. And looking at the rest of the house I think all the girls will fit fine. There will be plenty of places for drama.”
     I yelled “Dibs!” as I forgotten to when I first arrived.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheRelationBetweenPeopleAndTheTruth

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Marty McFly*

     Heading off to a friend's birthday party today. Naturally I will ensure that there will be ten or one hundred times more shenanigans than there would be if I were not present.

The Relation Between People and the Truth

       When you get a wish you wonder “how can I keep my words from being twisted”? That whole thing of it all going all wrong. Or it not being what you wanted? What if wishing for immortality makes you a zombie? Well through some circumstance or another I got myself a wish. I'd rather keep the method of getting wishes to myself to avoid having other people get into my situation or causing me trouble by getting them. I'll admit it was by one of those genies. He only gave me a single wish. And if you really need some place in your head to imagine where it came from just picture a little garage sale during a comfortable spring. That'll be your mental placeholder.
       I decided I was going to pick a wish that could get me incredible power without causing me harm. Wishing for ultimate power could turn me into a giant battery. I didn't know how it would all turn it out. My end wish was to wish to know “all the scientific facts in the world”. Though a few more words were added to say that my brain should stay intact magically and not explode from added information or something like that.
       But the genie didn't need to physically damage my brain with the added information to ruin me. He just needed the phrase “all the scientific facts in the world”. I picked scientific so I wouldn't know what some crazy serial killer was doing and go mad from that. I picked it so I knew everything in every textbook, statistical information, and what the Department of Defense was working on and so much more. In the end though the genie made me realize that the concept of fact was an invention of humanity and a matter of their perspective.
       I learned every single version of a fact from every single human that knew that fact. Atoms existing? Every single human interpretation of that I knew. Wrong or right. So if some kid got it all wrong I knew that version. I had every single version of every single misconception. So with the fact of atoms “existing” I got some feelings that they didn't exist too from the people that didn't think they did. That was maddening since the facts I wanted in the first place started to get lost. All of these truths made reality noise. Like static.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #HowToThinkLikeAPowerfulWizard

“I see dead people”
Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan*

      Going to the doctor's office then later negotiating peace with aliens for the safety of planet Earth. In general another boring day.
      Anyway onto the flash fiction!

How To Think Like A Powerful Wizard

       The important question in the life is not whether or not you want to be a wizard, but whether or not you want to be a powerful one. And there's another question, what you're willing to go through it. To become a truly powerful wizard it takes beyond just deals with demons, which can only get you so far, and magical artifacts and simpler. To become more powerful it takes you changing the way you think.
      Here's a foundation of normal logic I bet your used to: “A thing is itself.” Simple term. Simple rule. However in order to become a wizard you have to break this rule. (In fact breaking this rule regularly has made it difficult for me to use pronouns and names without hesitation or a moment's thought to set myself in old ways of thinking)
      When my teacher told me to break the rule I wondered how. She told me how it worked. Nothing is an itself. Everything is made of something smaller. Things made of molecules, molecules made of atoms, atoms of protons, neutrons, electrons etc. And those things make up bigger things. Everything goes infinitely up or infinitely down. Thus a thing is never itself, just the infinite segments that make it up. And this break in logic helps because magic is about manipulating all these pieces. They are the same pieces science works with, atoms and all. Though I use very different tools.
      As for how this logic works with me everyday. People don't really feel the same. My wife is only a collection of those segments moving among other segments waiting to be manipulated. Everything is like a cloud. Though I abandoned the idea of “cloud” a long time ago. Your categories of object is what I left behind. That's one difference between me and scientists. They talk about the segments in the universe and still say things like “cloud”, “Sun”, “river”, “cat”, “dog”. It takes a lot of habit for me to socialize.
      There is just one object that my brain just won't let me conceptually turn into only bits and pieces. It'd make it a lot easier to do magic on it. I just can't stop thinking of me as me. That's one place I can't change the rule no matter how hard I try to force my brain.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #WhenYouCantGetAWifeYouCanGetATable

“Respect people's privacy.”
Harvey Robert Levin*

Today I had a significant epiphany about life. And I'm not telling you what it is.

When You Can't Get A Wife, You Can Get A Table

         John was a stunning bachelor. He thought he could probably even get on that show involving being an attractive bachelor, if only he could remember the name. He could probably get a girl. Maybe. But his non-committal attitude prevented him from getting a wife. He could however buy a table, it did many of the same things a good wife could.
         When you need help they can hold something for you.
         If you're lonely they'll always be there for you.
        You can bring them on vacations.
        You can confide all you're secrets in them and they would never tell.
        And you can even sit by them on those romantic moonlit nights.
       John's true love lived just a couple blocks down. They hadn't met yet and when they did they would kick it off and wed. But that was going to be a year from now. But Arianna had the same non-committal attitude that John did so she bought a table. It did many of the same things a good husband could do.
         When you need help they can hold something for you.
         If you're lonely they'll always be there for you.
         You can bring them on vacations.
         You can confide all you're secrets in them and they would never tell.
         And you can even sit by them on those romantic moonlit nights.
John and Arianna's wedding was a beautiful one when they finally did decide to marry. They were perfect for each other. After all with how non-committal(at least relationship wise) they were that's what it would take for them to marry. They were so perfectly matched they even had a similar taste in tables.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #TheReallyReallyReallyReallyOldWizard

“Live and learn.”

Sdrawkcab tsop golb a fo trap etorw I yadot.
Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Really, Really, Really, Really, Old Wizard

Now I'm not afraid to admit I'm an old man. Eh, I take pride in it actually. I mean I'm so old it's a feat in of itself. Something worthy of a medal. Trophy even. I bet you're thinking, “Why how could being old be such an accomplishment?” Well I'm older than I think you could grasp. I'm a wizard that's seen it all then more. I caught the immortality flu so long ago its ridiculous. The lifespan of an elf isn't even a blink of an eye to me. Gods are children to me at their eldest. Why I am so old my name is made of those strange guttural noises that evolve into real language. I've seen the start and ends of multiple universes. From their big bangs to when the universe eventually ends. (Oh and as for what noise a big bang makes its a sort of joorkkkfuuuraakakakahhooobooooooommmmm!!!)
Well as for seeing it all I thought I did. Then you young kids had to go and invent this “Internet”. Now I've hopped my fair share of universes but this took the cake. All these video sites and silly cat pictures. Within minutes I saw more cute kittens than I had seen in one hundred years in another universe. So crazy what you kids come up with.