Reay Jespersen

Jed stood on the dropfloor in rank with the other soldiers, all standing in armoured exoatmospheric suits. The computerized voice in their helmets let them know it was fifteen seconds to drop. Those who didn’t already have their visors down and locked did so, and got into drop formation.

Jed and the others would drop through the hatch doors and fall from ultra-low orbit to strike the target far below with extreme prejudice.

Five seconds.

Jed always hated this part. It wasn’t the flight or hitting the ground, but the initial, lurching drop that always got him.

He fell.

He balled up the note paper and threw it into the round waste bin. That wasn’t right. What was he trying to say? Something about cycles… repetition. The former professor left his desk and began a casual pace, letting his mind wander, which always cleared it.
He sauntered past his bed, and past the doctors studying him through the round portal-like window in his padded door.
Ah-ha! He ran to the note pad and wrote down his thoughts.
He studied them.

He balled up the note paper and threw it into the round waste bin. That wasn’t right…

It was just a matter of time, really. Here I was, all gung-ho about having this one main concept in my head (a kids’ book with a brother and sister going on a huge adventure, in the tone of Narnia but minus the religious overtones) and being able to focus on that as my main writing project. And then it happened: other totally viable, appealing ideas popped into my head. And not along the same lines, either. As my brain is wont to do, it went for a wander and came up with something totally different than what’s at hand: in this case, a concept for a horror film. Better still, as a quick check of IMDb told me, one whose name (which is tied directly to the thrust of the idea) has surprisingly never been used for a horror film before. And in fact, while I was writing down the concept for that, an idea for another horror film occurred to me, so I wrote down that one, as well.

So back the old conundrum: to continue with Project 1, which has a lot of promise and cool potential but which has now dimmed somewhat next to the shining star of the newer idea (I am somewhat like a crow in this respect, always getting distracted by and attracted to the sparkle of a new idea), or start with Project 2, which appeals more so will inherently lead to better writing than something I’m making myself do less willingly, but which will leave Project 1 undone? The real hell of it, and this has been proven countless times before, is that if I start Project 2, another idea will come along part way in, and it’s back to square one. It could all be shown in a very small, sad flow chart.

My mind, however, was already made up for me a while ago. Not in regard to the specific Project 1 vs. Project 2 in this case (and did I mention how awesome both ideas are? Because really…), but rather, the decision to stop leaving work undone in favour of a more sparkly idea. As has been demonstrated to an embarrassing degree in the past, that invariably leads to a whole lot more stuff started than finished, which rather defeats the purpose of my wanting to finish writing projects in order to peddle them to publishers and producers. And other “p” words.

So there you have it: the awesome Project 2 will have to wait its turn until awsome Project 1 is completed. Which may take some time, but that’s the way it’s gotta be. That, as the kids these days say (because I’m nothing if not “street”), is the way I roll.

Word.

Just as a note, today marks precisely the half-way point of Tracy’s 100 words for 100 days challenge. I’m still going strong, sometimes just ensuring I make those 100 words minimum (Drabbles, and such), but as often doing more than that (and on occasion, much more; my daytime high thus far is slightly over 2200 words).

I already know I’m going to keep up the daily writing even after the challenge is done, but I’m looking forward to rocking the last half of it.

“I had noticed that not all cockroaches die, even when sprayed with the most toxic materials. This led to the discovery that some cockroaches which are dead come back to life. Not just a fact to creep out entomophobics or the squeamish, but a significant medical discovery.
These ‘zombie cockroaches’ are relatively stupid, and ignore other food in favour of eating living flesh, preferably cannibalizing each other.
Years later, I have successfully identified and duplicated the virus behind this biological anomaly. I’ve stored it in a secure place in my lab, where I’m certain nothing bad can happen with it…”

There are things that demand certain replies. Which isn’t to say that other responses are inherently wrong so much as they somehow… don’t suffice. Carson pored over his workbench, examining each tool closely; each one considered carefully. Dozens of possibilities.
There was a murmur behind him. Carson glared over his shoulder at the naked, gagged man strapped to the table; the man who had killed Carson’s only child and had gotten off on a legal technicality.
Carson turned back to his workbench, and his eyes fell immediately onto the right implement, glinting coldly.
There are things that demand certain replies.

Johann was the go-to man for anything that had to be transported. He took on the neutral stance of his motherland in his work, keeping him in business and, indeed, alive.
He had seen and shipped many things in his day: a shot man with one briefcase handcuffed to himself and another full of money offered for immediate transportation, crates with faded swastikas on them, and a book that faintly glowed.
He’d seen and shipped many things, but when the men in black wheeled aboard a cryogenic chamber with a frozen alien inside, he knew he’d never see everything.

Grayson the mason
was a trade master.
None could build bigger,
And none could build faster.

With mortar and cinder
he built up his wall;
the second of four,
then he would have all.

He sweat as he toiled
all through the hot night.
He would keep working
’til it was done right.

As dawn pinked the sky
he cracked a wide grin.
By noon that same day
he could pack it all in.

Another job done,
he stood back with pride.
His work gave him strength,
a good feeling inside.

Time to go home,
he caught the next bus.
He’d make it in time,
so no need to fuss.

He grabbed his packed bag,
bought a plane ticket south;
a small island he’d heard of,
just through word of mouth.

The plane took to air
and he started to smile.
Though a fast leave, he knew
he’d be gone for a while.

He sat on the beach
with a tropical drink,
looking out at the ocean,
indulging a think.

Grayson was liked by
all folks far and wide.
What was the reason
he was trying to hide?

The thing was that Grayson,
the jovial man,
had done his last job
as part of a plan.

The walls were the finest
that he’d ever done.
But in truth they were needed
to ensconce his fun.

The likable mason
had a side that was naughty.
And it would be decades
’til they chipped out the body.

Nothing he had ever seen or heard of could have prepared him for this. Waking up this morning, Jamie found he was alone. Not only his wife not lying beside him, nor their daughter gone, but as horrifying as those discoveries were, realizing it went so much further. His apartment building and the streets were empty, the highway strewn with crashed, empty cars. And it went beyond just the city. Friends in other countries weren’t answering their phones. It seemed there was no one else anywhere.
Six billion people gone in the blink of an eye.
Only one left behind.

Asger trudged forward, now more from habit than strength or willpower. His wrapped layers of furs couldn’t withstand the onslaught of the blizzard, and the ever-deepening snow was proving to be more than his match, champion warrior or no.
He stumbled and fell again, ice-crusted scabbard slashing at his booted leg, the pain crippling.
He pushed himself upright and moved on until he fell again. And again. Until he could finally push himself upright no more. Yet he was strangely comforted by that. Finally, a chance to rest and catch his breath. Perhaps sleep. Just briefly.
Just briefly…