staunched was the flow of salad dressing–“light”
like a halflinger horse in a galloping show of fright
the earthy smell of dried up cheese alight
so then what begot the hue-less glow
betwixt the likely unstoppable flow
that ran from a straight, long row
thusly is a redundant word
because its root is a verb
so it doesn’t really need to end
the escape pod was stuck
in the launching bay
so they panicked
aliens from the
far away planet of
a thousand and one suns
run away, young squirrel
danger grows quickly near
and if you don’t get moving
you’ll end up… oops
There are too many words at the bottom of the canal. Too many to count. They fell from many mouths off the bridge above. And hit the water. And when they sank, few cared, since few heard, and none remembered. Because it was Tuesday. It was, in fact, Tuesday when some of the most important words were uttered above the canal. Important if you’re a duck. The words were a construction order, which authorized the filling of the canal with concrete to make more room for the expansion of nearby malls. The ducks didn’t like it.
Fifteen thousand million quadrillion light-years from the farthest point in the universe from earth, the AI continued its research. Nobody knew of its existence, and few suspected the possibility. It was happy, though. As reasonably happy as an AI can be expected to be. It had just discovered bathroom humor.
There was nobody in the store that day.
No humans in it, anyway.
The robots sat, and worked and hummed.
For humans had no use.
Their work was simple, they had much fun.
Or, rather, they didn’t.
They were robots.
Fun wasn’t something they could have.
But they could move, and work, and toil.
Until their little bodies ran out of oil.
And nobody cared, for they were robots.
But they should have.
I’ve updated The Hall of Condiments, mostly for formatting, but also reworded a few sentences. Download for free here or at Smashwords.
Now live on Smashwords: The Hall of Condiments, a short story (5,000 words) for free. It’s science fiction / feudal fantasy -ish. Hopefully the funny will come out funny and not just stupid.
Here’s a PDF if you don’t want to download from Smashwords:
The Hall of Condiments
Please read, review and enjoy.
Not necessarily vignettes but certainly 100 words (depending on which software you’re using to count…):
The city was asleep. But one figure wasn’t. It was walking along mysteriously, or perhaps running, sneaking, or racing. The only person that could possibly be up at this time of night would be a writer, fleeing from their mad, insane, and otherwise crazy literary agent. No. Don’t pity it. The writer doesn’t deserve pity. It’s not their fault they didn’t meet their deadline, it’ll tell you. It’ll claim its muse is on vacation, that the white sheet of paper in front of it was mocking it, that it had to take a break. Lies. Foolish words. It’s just lazy.
A hundred words. Easily readable in about fifteen to twenty-five seconds for the average interested word connoisseur. But, if you write carefully, with lots of commas, semicolons, periods, and other punctuation (especially commas) you can make them falter, slow, and otherwise delay their reading. Why? Snarkiness, perhaps. Or, maybe, as a power trip. Writers manipulate the minds. At least of their readers. Not nice? Oh, hey, you there… the one reading this… how long has it taken you to read so far? More than twenty-five, possibly over thirty, or even more, seconds… of your life. Like that? Feel happy? Sucker!
“Cramberry Sauces” the label read. “You’res favorite smooth desire of gelled happiness. Eat for share, by yourself, or to fun! Website us in good tasty recipes that will you’re love.” Spelling and grammar are dead, Erika thought, as she placed two cans in her cart. Dead. It was a shame how poorly written everything was these days. But at least a few people seemed to care enough about proper English to keep the language somewhat alive. As she wheeled her cart to the next aisle, she mentally thanked the cranberry people for the most correct grammar she’d seen in months.
From today’s 750 Words
Edgar piloted the spaceship like a true pro, running the ion engines at two-hundred percent capacity. The asteroid field loomed ahead. It was full of shuttles weaving to and fro, knitting together the galaxy with trade. He slipped in behind a cruiser and hit the afterburners, blinking just in time to avoid watching as he crashed into the nuclear engines of the cruiser, turning his ship into dust and making the nebula just that little bit brighter.
Flying saucer-gages were all the rage. Who would have thought that by forming a sausage in the shape of a saucer, they would be so conductive to hyperactive marketing schemes? But it was true, and Eduardo was going to get rich on this. Filthy rich. Just you wait and see…
It was five minutes after four o’clock in the morning. The streets were empty, with the suburban population resting before a hateful Monday. One lone figure walked along the pathway bordering the canal. Snow began to fall slowly through the air, catching in the blades of grass, melting on the sidewalk, and splashing in the stagnant canal waters. But when the morning broke, the figure wasn’t be there, and that new day changed the world forever.
Earwigs were coming back into fashion. Jessica realized this after browsing the strip mall for several hours that Saturday. There was no way she was going to fall behind on the fad this time around. She bought three pairs in different styles that afternoon. They didn’t fit her ears very well, but she didn’t mind. The only thing in her mind was the shock and admiration of her peers. But ignorance is bliss…