Category Archives: Fiction

Writing Exercise #1

This may end up becoming a series of posts, assuming I continue on with the group that does this. The idea here is to take a set of random factors and incorporate them into a short story over the course of 45-60 minutes. It is a great exercise, and definitely had some lessons in it for me. One being, I really need to work on my ability to let myself write crap… I was completely stuck until I realized I was just going to throw this story away, and then suddenly I did not care if I wrote garbage or not, I just wanted to get something out.

The second lesson is, Erotic Thriller is a tough genre for me!

8/29/18
Place: Mars
Person: A bartender with an annoying haircut
Object: Magnet
Action: Taking over another company
Genre: Erotic Thriller

I hated Mars. I hated my company for sending me to this accursed hellhole. I hated the food, I hated the watered-down drinks at the only bar on the compound. But most of all, I hated the bartender’s stupid haircut. It was bad enough in the mid-80s, but in this day and age? Ugh… just shoot me. Better yet, shoot her… and her ridiculous mullet.

The only problem was, she was hot. And she made being stuck here for the next 371 days (and counting) even remotely bearable.

I ended up here on a contract. My company was building a mag-lev rail system to transport final-stage terraforming equipment around the surface. Colonial Mars was finally becoming a reality, and I got to be part of history… Oh yay.

“You want another, there, doc?”

Her query pulled me out of my malcontent’s reverie and right into her mismatched eyes. I’d never given it a thought before, but there was something so deeply sexy about one green and one blue eye staring out of the same face.

She snapped her fingers in front of me.

“Hey! You tryin’ to read my mind? Do, you, want, another drink?”

Shit. I lost myself there.

“Yeah… uh, please.”

She turned to make the drink, and I was pretty sure I caught the vaguest glimpse of a smile. Maybe there was something there.

When she brought the drink back, I became more convinced. It was almost pure alcohol, with just enough mix to know it was there. Could just be a heavy pour, or perhaps she was sending me a signal.

I pounded the drink and headed to the bathroom to offload the prior three, and see if I looked presentable enough to even make an attempt at her.

Hair? Check. Teeth? Check. Breath? Check. Good to go. As I exited the bathroom into the short hallway leading back to the bar, something hooked me by the waist and threw me against the wall. Hard. Her lips pressed firmly against mine, slightly parted, while her body pinned me to the wall, hands exploring my lower back. I opened eyes to find her staring back at me, tongue dancing lightly across my lips.

“Don’t move. Keep pretending until I say.”

Pretending? I was certainly not pretending. And with what she was doing with her hands and tongue, it was hard to believe she was too.

Then, over her shoulder, I noticed the two suits walking the room, peering down the hallway, looking behind the bar. Finally, satisfied that whatever they were looking for was not here, they exited, and she pulled away.

“Thanks. Sorry about that…”

“What the hell was that?! And… uh… thanks, yourself.”

She smiled at my feeble attempt to be cute, which probably did not play well on a 35-year old scientist.

“They were here for me. Just don’t want to deal with them right now. They want to take over my bar, and I am not ready to sell.”

“Ok, but that was your plan to avoid them?”

“Well, I had to think quick, and I figured you’d go along.”

I could feel the color rise in my face.

“I get done here in half an hour. Finish your drink and wait for me and we can go pretend some more.”

“Uh, ok. Where?”

“My place is close by.”

“Aren’t you a little concerned bringing a stranger to your home?”

“I never bring someone home that I am not 100% sure I can kill. Now go sit down and let me get back to work.”

Gods she was hot. But that hair…

Liquid Violation

The alien blood coursed through my vessels unfelt, but I knew it was there.  It didn’t burn like I had expected, searing my veins with its preternatural cold, slowing my metabolic processes to a near halt by the sheer “wrongness” of its presence.  Nor did it make me ill, inciting my body’s defenses to riot against the intrusion, as I had heard can happen.  It just flowed into me, drop by excruciating drop, torturously slowly, meticulously, mechanically, with all of their technological precision.  Paralyzed with exhaustion and fear, I could do naught but lie on that unforgiving slab and let it happen.  My mind reeled with plans for escape but all required more strength and fortitude than I possessed.  The mind-shattering reality that this thing that I had grown up fearing, yet which was now so commonplace in our forever-altered society, was actually happening to me had exacted such a toll that I was rendered a lifeless heap in sweat-soaked rags.

Their technicians had come and taken my own blood, sucking it from my engorged vein like vampires at feast.  They attached pulsating apparatus to my appendages and forced metallic tubes into my mouth.  Were they anticipating problems and trying to keep me alive, or was this some sort of monitoring of my body?  Finally, hours later, their leader came.  Standing over me with a glint of sadness in her eye, she pierced my chest with steel and plastic, driving in the delivery mechanism and sealing my fate.  My eyes closed involuntarily, and for a moment I honestly believed I could force my body to reject the inevitable; push the liquid back to its source before it ever touched my flesh.  I concentrated with all my might, but when I opened my eyes, all that I had accomplished was a tear.  The odd-colored fluid crept slowly, unwaveringly up the tube toward the needle emanating from my chest.  I could not stand the thought of it, and I was sure my mind would fracture from all of the screaming inside my skull.

The life-blood of a being is its most sacred and precious commodity – something that must remain unaltered, untainted and pure.  But somehow, they had found a way to infiltrate an organism through some sort of liquid violation, rendering it forever changed, yet not at all different.  Their propaganda tells of a more fruitful life.  A life of health, strength and recovery, but can that be possible when your very essence is being diluted?  The thoughts raced through me as the thirty-six inches of clear plastic tubing began to fill.  Only 10 inches left before my fundamental being was gone, and a hybrid left behind. Will my family recognize me?  Will I recognize myself?  Wondering if you would still see the world the same through someone else’s eyes, or still love the same with someone else’s heart, I lay there waiting…  wondering if I would still be ME with someone else’s blood.