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  1. Welcome to the seventh installment of my new series of Bionicle flash fics, The Biological Chronicle. If you want to read the other stories in this series, you can find links to them in my signature at the end of this post. If you don't know what this is, allow me to quote from the first fic's introduction: With that out of the way, enjoy: 2007 Normally, Kalmah avoided getting into direct confrontations with his fellow Barraki. It was not that he was a peace-lover or that he was afraid of any of them. He simply knew the value of having allies on the ocean floor and so saw no reason to risk his good relations with the rest of them. But today, as Kalmah stood among the broken shells and half-eaten corpses of his brood of sea squid, his tentacle wrapped tightly around Mantax's throat, he care little about maintaining good relations with anyone. He saw blood and, though he did not intend to kill Mantax, he was not going to let his fellow warlord get off that easily. “Tell me, Mantax,” said Kalmah, not even bothering to hide his anger. “What made you think you could eat from my brood of squid? How did you think you would ever get away with it, knowing as you do how much I value these potential weapons?” Mantax said nothing, perhaps because Kalmah's tentacle was constricted around his throat. He did, however, slash at Kalmah's tentacle, cutting it with his pincer and making the red Barraki let go with a low curse. Unlike the other warlords, Kalmah's tentacle was a part of him and so harming it harmed him. Rubbing his neck, Mantax said, “I was hungry and I didn't feel like waiting for the next safe hour to go hunting. Besides, you never seem to have trouble breeding them again anyway, so what's he big deal?” Kalmah pointed at the egg shells floating in the water around them. “It's not nearly as easy as it looks, Mantax. It took me months to breed this many and now it will take me many more just to get the numbers back up to their original levels. Do you know how difficult it is to get these naturally aggressive creatures to even tolerate each other's presences, much less mate?” Mantax folded his arms. “And? What do I care? I got my lunch. I'm satisfied.” “Fool,” said Kalmah. “I'm planning to weaponize these squids. For all of us.” Mantax didn't look convinced. “All of us? Or just you?” “I have given Pridak my word that all of us will have a chance at using them,” said Kalmah. “That's why I am spending most of my time designing the launchers that will fire them, or here making sure that certain hungry warlords aren't devouring half the ammunition.” Mantax shrugged. “Whatever. I have better things to do than stand around listening to your abuse.” Mantax tried to swim around Kalmah, but the red Barraki blocked his way. “One last thing,” said Kalmah, his tone as low as a doom viper's hiss. “If you step foot in here again without my permission, I'll do more than just make your neck sore.” Mantax didn't back down. “I would like to see you try.” Kalmah and Mantax glared at each other for several seconds before Mantax broke the psuedo-staring contest and swam over Kalmah's head out of the cave. Kalmah, meanwhile, returned his attention to the remaining sea squid, already dreading what the next several months of breeding would require of him. It was not a happy thought. - Comments, criticism, questions, etc. are all welcome . -TNTOS-
  2. TNTOS

    New content block

    Just added a new content block to my blog that features links to all ten of the stories from my The Biological Chronicle series of flash fiction. Been meaning to do this for a while, but just been too busy and lazy to take the time to do it. You'll have to scroll down to see it, however, as it's at the very bottom of my blog. -TNTOS-
  3. Welcome to the fourth installment of my new series of Bionicle flash fics, The Biological Chronicle. If you want to read the other stories in this series, you can find links to them in my signature at the end of this post. If you don't know what it is, allow me to quote from the first fic's introduction: With that out of the way, please enjoy: 2004 When Krekka awoke, his head hurt. That was surprising. Nidhiki always chided him for having a thick skull. Maybe it wasn't thick enough to protect his head from a fall from that height. Even worse, Krekka could not remember exactly where he had fallen from. He recalled helping Nidhiki trying to capture three Toa in an airship. After that, his memory got fuzzy, probably the fault of the fall. His skull felt like it had been stampeded by a herd of Kikanalo. He sat up, putting his hands on his head to try to soothe it, and then realized that he was sitting in the middle of a street in a crater. He looked around and noticed dozens of Matoran nearby staring at him, almost as if they had never seen a Dark Hunter before. One Matoran's mouth hung open, which made him look silly. Then someone nearby shouted, “Hey, you!” Puzzled, Krekka turned his massive body and saw a Po-Matoran standing just outside his crater. The Po-Matoran looked angry, his hands planted firmly on his hips, reminding Krekka how Nidhiki had once looked before his transformation into that spider monster thingy. “Yes?” said Krekka. The Po-Matoran cowered a little at Krekka's voice, but didn't run away. “You crushed my statues. Which, I will have you know, are Hafu originals. I demand that you pay reparations for destroying my work.” Krekka looked under his behind. There were crushed bits of stone underneath him, stone that looked awfully common to him. He didn't see what the big deal was. So he said to the Po-Matoran, “No. I don't pay.” Now the Po-Matoran looked angry. “If you won't repay me, then I'll call the Vahki on you.” “Vahki not scary,” said Krekka. “Vahki don't scare me.” “Oh really?” said the Po-Matoran. “I bet this does, though.” The Po-Matoran pulled a disk launcher off his back and aimed it at Krekka. The sight of the disk launcher reminded Krekka just how he had ended up in the sky in the first place. He did not intend to go through that again. He reached over and snatched the disk launcher out of the Po-Matoran's hands. He crushed it beneath his massive fist and then dropped the disk launcher—now little more than a chunk of twisted metal—at the Po-Matoran's feet. The Po-Matoran took a step back, holding up his hands as if trying to seem less threatening. “You know what? Never mind. I didn't really like those statues anyway. Weren't my best work. I can always make more; make better ones, in fact. Sorry for bothering you.” Krekka stood up, ready to smash the stupid Po-Matoran, but then a voice from above called, “Krekka! There are you. What are you doing?” Krekka looked up in time to see Nidhiki, who flew in and landed next to him. Nidhiki's armor was dirty and flattened in several places, like he had been crushed beneath a ton of metal. “Going to smash Matoran,” said Krekka, pointing at the Po-Matoran, who stood paralyzed with fear. “No time for that,” said Nidhiki. “The Toa got away and we still have to track them down.” “But—“ “I said, no time,” Nidhiki snapped. “Now are you coming with me or not?” Krekka frowned, but nodded and soon was soaring through the sky with Nidhiki. He decided he would smash the Po-Matoran later. - Comments, criticism, questions, etc. are all welcome . -TNTOS-
  4. Welcome to the sixth installment of my new series of Bionicle flash fics, The Biological Chronicle. If you want to read the other stories in this series, you can find links to them in my signature at the end of this post. If you don't know what this is, allow me to quote from the first fic's introduction: With that out of the way, enjoy: 2006 “T-Toa Zaktan?” Zaktan, standing on a ridge that allowed him to overlook the construction of the Piraka Stronghold, glanced to his left. A Le-Matoran armed with shredder claws was standing there, obviously trembling despite his just as obvious efforts to seem natural. Zaktan vaguely recalled the Matoran as the first villager he had met when he first arrived on Voya Nui. What was his name? Piruk, maybe? “Yes, villager?” said Zaktan, using his friendliest voice (or voices, as the case was). The Le-Matoran seemed to shrink under Zaktan's gaze. Nonetheless, he managed to say, “I just came to, um, to, well, uh—“ “Spit it out,” Zaktan snapped. He caught himself, remembering that Toa were supposed to be kind to Matoran, and then said, again straining to be friendly, “What are you trying to tell me, villager? Has something happened that requires my attention?” The Le-Matoran looked down at his feet, digging his toe into the dirt. “It's just . . . well, one of the workers on Mount Valmai's slopes was . . . well, he was killed in a lava flow just a few hours ago. Balta sent me to tell you that.” The Le-Matoran looked up at Zaktan when he finished, as if expecting the Piraka to say something. It took Zaktan a moment to remember that Matoran dying was supposed to be a bad thing and that therefore he should console the Le-Matoran. The idea sickened him to his core, but the Pirakas' relationship with the Voya Nuians was already getting rocky and he could not afford to make them more suspicious. So Zaktan bent down, putting one hand on the Le-Matoran's shoulder. The villager cringed at the touch, most likely not used to the feel of Zaktan's hand. Still, Zaktan tried to give off an aura of concern, the kind he thought a Toa would show in this situation, and so looked the Le-Matoran in the eyes. “I am very sorry to hear about that,” said Zaktan, forcing every word out of his mouth. “What was his name?” “I . . . I don't know,” said the Le-Matoran, who much to Zaktan's frustration was still trembling. “I didn't know him very well.” Zaktan sighed. “Well, I'm sure his soul will join with the Great Spirit in the next life. He was probably a fine worker and I am sure his friends will remember him always.” “Some of his friends want to hold a funeral for him,” said the Le-Matoran. “Even though his body wasn't—“ “No,” said Zaktan, shaking his head. “What?” Realizing how un-Toa-like that sounded, Zaktan said in a gentler voice, “I mean, I understand what it feels like to lose a friend, but perhaps, instead of a funeral, it would be better for everyone to work a little harder. Surely he would have liked that better than everyone interrupting their normal work schedule just to mourn his death, wouldn't you say?” The Le-Matoran scratched the back of his head. “Uh, I don't know—“ “And without a body, what is there to bury?” said Zaktan as he straightened up. “Work away your sorrows, I say. It is what we Toa do whenever we lose a comrade, after all.” The Le-Matoran nodded, though whether because of fear or because he agreed, Zaktan couldn't tell. “Yes, Toa Zaktan. I'll g-go tell the others to get back to work.” The Le-Matoran scrambled away while Zaktan returned his attention to the builders of the Stronghold. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up this charade, though once the villagers finished their work here, he knew it would not be long before he and the other Piraka could show their true colors. - Comments, criticism, questions, etc. are all welcome . -TNTOS-
  5. Welcome to the fifth installment of my new series of Bionicle flash fics, The Biological Chronicle. If you want to read the other stories in this series, you can find links to them in my signature at the end of this post. If you don't know what it is, allow me to quote from the first fic's introduction: With that out of the way, enjoy: 2005 On the day the Visorak hordes descended upon the city of Metru Nui, Rahaga Norik found himself alone and surrounded on all sides by the stealers of life. This was not entirely an accident on his part. He and the other Rahaga had emerged from the Archives a few days ago, shortly after the Toa Metru left the City of Legends. They had been debating whether to stay on the uninhabited island themselves in search of the legendary Keetongu or to leave and search elsewhere for a way to combat the Visorak when their decision was made for them by a group of Vohtarak that ambushed them suddenly. To save his fellow Rahaga, Norik managed to lure the Vohtarak away deeper into the Archives. Norik intended on circling back to rejoin the others later, but unfortunately he lured the Vohtarak into a dead end. This had been an accident on his part. He could just imagine what Iruini might say about this particular mistake of his, if he lived long enough to see Iruini again. The Vohtarak were snapping their jaws, spitting and growling at him. So far, they had not tried to shoot their Rhotuka spinners at him, but it wouldn't be long, he knew, before they figured out that he was not a dumb Rahi like their usual prey. Until they did, that gave Norik a few minutes at most to figure out his plan of action against them. The nearest Vohtarak snapped at him, forcing Norik to step back. He swiped at it with his staff, but all he managed to do was make the Vohtarak fire a Rhotuka, which he managed to dodge. The other Vohtarak were now charging their spinners, so Norik knew that he didn't have any other choice but to act. He fired his own Rhotuka at the nearest Vohtarak, the one that had tried to hit him with its spinner. A direct hit. The Vohtarak was instantly snared in an energy net, causing its brothers to shift their attention to their captured ally. They even stopped charging their spinners, giving Norik an opportunity he could not ignore. Taking advantage of their distraction, Norik flew over them, using his Rhotuka spinner to do so, and landed on the ground behind them. While the Visorak struggled to free their brother, Norik ran for it. While he was no coward, he knew there was no way he could defeat six Vohtarak on his own. He needed to find the others. Because if the Visorak were here, the time to find Keetongu was now. - Comments, criticisms, questions, etc. are all welcome . -TNTOS-
  6. TNTOS

    Notice

    Tomorrow I will be out of town for a week and may or may not have Internet access during that time. So I might not post the next chapter of In the End on Monday or the next story in The Biological Chronicle series, nor will I be on BZP in general during that time. Just thought y'all should know so nobody thinks I dropped off the face of the earth or anything, heh. -TNTOS-
  7. Welcome to the third installment of my new series of Bionicle flash fics, The Biological Chronicle. For those who don't know what this is, allow me to quote myself from the first fic's introduction: With that out of the way, please enjoy: 2003 Six Rahkshi. One Toa. Kopaka knew he was outnumbered. He had come to this clearing in order to meet with his fellow Toa Nuva, only to make the unpleasant discovery that the Rahkshi had arrived instead. He didn't know where his teammates were or, Mata Nui forbid, whether they were even still alive. In either case, he was forced to conclude that he was on his own for the moment. And for once, that thought didn't make him comfortable. The green Rahkshi—whose name Kopaka didn't know, though he supposed it was unimportant—was the first to move, hissing like a snake, aiming its staff at his mask. It was also the first to be frozen. He supposed it wasn't quite as bright as its brothers. Before Kopaka could strike again, however, the red Rahkshi aimed its staff at the Toa of Ice. A blast of energy fired from the staff's tip and struck Kopaka before he could raise his shield to block it. It didn't hurt when it hit; however, it then occurred to Kopaka just how badly outnumbered and overwhelmed he was. Three of these Rahkshi destroyed Ta-Koro by themselves, Kopaka thought, fear creeping up his spine. And that was when both Tahu and Gali were present to defend it. There's no way I can beat five Rahkshi on my own. The odds are clearly against me. Then, in his mind's eye, Kopaka saw his fellow Toa Nuva laughing at him, mocking him for his failure. It wasn't just the Toa Nuva, though. He saw the Matoran, too, pointing at him, calling him a failure for being unable to defeat the Rahkshi. And even the Turaga, with Nuju at the head, were shaking their heads in disappointment at his failure. We thought you were stronger than that, Kopaka, said Nuju in Matoran. But I guess you really are the weakest Toa Nuva, aren't you? Kopaka tried to ignore the taunts and jeers of his friends, but it was like trying to ignore a hurricane. Everywhere he looked, the Toa, Matoran, and Turaga were laughing at him. Those who were not laughing were nonetheless pointing at him, whispering among themselves that maybe the great Kopaka wasn't so great after all, that maybe he was nothing more than a freakish, fake loner who relied too much on the strength of others to survive. No! Kopaka thought, shaking his head. I'm not weak. I can defeat the Rahkshi. I can! He returned to reality just in time to see the red Rahkshi charging at him. Kopaka raised his ice blades and froze the Rahkshi before it could get any closer. The sight of two frozen Rahkshi encouraged him, making him think that perhaps he could defeat them after all. The black Rahkshi came next, swinging its staff at his head. Kopaka blocked it with his ice blades, but then felt very weak all of a sudden. He managed to hold back the black Rahkshi for a few seconds before it overpowered him and knocked him over, causing Kopaka to realize (far too late) that the black Rahkshi was stealing his energy and there was nothing he could do about it. “No,” Kopaka muttered. “I can't . . .” “Brother!” called out a familiar voice above. Kopaka looked and saw Tahu, Lewa, and Gali standing on a ledge above the scene of the battle. And, though the black Rahkshi continued to absorb his energy, Kopaka knew the tide was about to turn. - Comments, criticism, questions, etc. are all welcomed . -TNTOS-
  8. Welcome, readers, to the first story in a new series of flash fics called The Biological Chronicle. What is The Biological Chronicle, you ask? As I stated above, The Biological Chronicle is a series of flash fics written by me. Like my earlier Glatorian Chronicles series of short stories/short epics, each story in The Biological Chronicle is a standalone and the stories can be read in any order you please. What connects these story is the basic theme. I gave myself the challenge of writing ten flash fics based on the ten years of Bionicle (one for 2001, another for 2002, yet another for 2003, etc.). The result is a mixture of my interpretation of scenes from canon, scenes from canon that were mentioned but never shown, and a few scenes that were never mentioned nor shown but which I nonetheless believe could have/probably did happen at some point in canon. I tried to stick to canon as closely as possible, however, so don't expect to see any new characters or locations or anything like that that weren't in canon. They are all quite short (the longest is a little over 700 words), but of course that is to be expected from flash fiction. Fair warning: I've had little practice with flash fiction, so if these aren't as good as my usual work, it's because I'm not used to forcing myself to keep the word count under 800 words (although you are of course still free to criticize them however you usually criticize stories). Anyway, enough with the introduction. Let's get onto the actual story: 2001 The amnesiac being who could only recall his name—Tahu—snapped the last of his limbs into place. He swung his right arm back and forth, satisfied that it was not in danger of flying off. Though the task had been arduous, he had successfully managed to reattach all of his body parts, which had been scattered on the beach like so many spilled bricks. Yet he did not feel complete. He felt his face, his forehead and his cheeks, an uncomfortable sensation that made him lower his hands. It took him a moment to realize that his face felt naked, even though the rest of his body was fully armored. That was when his eyes fell on the mask lying on top of the sand not far away. Something in his body, in his very bones, compelled him to pick it up, which he did. It was a simple design. Gray as the canister in which he had arrived, it had multiple vents in the side that he supposed were to allow air to pass through. Its gaping mouth hole looked a little silly to Tahu, yet its eye holes gave off an aura of strength he could not deny. Whatever doubts he may have had about the mask vanished as he placed it over his face. As soon as he did, a wave of strength swept through his body. The wave shocked him—indeed caused him to stagger—but soon his body grew accustomed to it and he began to wonder how he had ever lived without his newly-found strength. He picked up his sword, which was shaped like a flame, and held it up triumphantly in a gesture that he could not remember doing before but which felt as natural as breathing or sleeping. A burst of flame shot out of the sword, flying high into the air like a water spout. The sight did not disturb or shock him in the slightest, even though up until this point the Toa had not even been aware of his own elemental powers. He watched the flames burn, channeling their heat through his sword. The sword felt like an extension of his arm now, not a mere weapon or tool with which to channel his fire. The sensation made him feel powerful and strong. Tahu shut off the flames and looked out at the island whose beach he had washed up on. A charred forest stood not far away, deep and foreboding, like a sentinel guarding a fortress. It was almost a warning, as if the trees themselves were trying to tell him to leave, that he wasn't welcomed here, that he would do better to climb back into his canister and go home (wherever 'home' was). Tahu smiled. I may not know who I am or where I came from, but I do know one thing: I am no coward. With the image of the fire bursting from his sword still burned in his mind's eye, Tahu walked toward the charred forest without any fear in his step. - Comments, criticism, questions, etc. are all welcome . -TNTOS-
  9. Welcome to the second installment in my new series of Bionicle flash fics, The Biological Chronicle. For those who don't know what it is, allow me to quote myself from the first fic's introduction: With that out of the way, enjoy: 2002 The Bohrok were like an incoming tidal wave. There was nothing you could do to stop them. In their single-minded determination to complete their unknown mission, they would level mountains, dry up rivers, cut down forests, and burn down whole villages. They never harmed anyone unless they got in the way, true, but they would often assimilate the enemy into the swarm, rather than kill them, which was not a much better fate. Onua knew all of this, especially the last part. As he crouched low among the boulders of the Onu-Wahi plains, he remembered how Lewa had been taken over by a Krana just a few days ago. Though he never admitted it, when he first saw that Lewa was a member of the swarm, he had briefly despaired that the entire battle against the swarms was lost. Though Lewa may be better now, there is still much to be concerned about, Onua thought, squinting through the bright light of the sun at the entrance to Onu-Koro that he was hiding near. The Bohrok continue to ravage Mata Nui every day. And I still have yet to collect all of my Krana, which Turaga Vakama said are the secret to stopping the swarms. Today, however, Onua was confident that he would complete his collection. Assuming, of course, the plan worked. Then he heard it, the sound that would haunt him the rest of his days: The chittering of the Bohrok. It was coming from the cavern that he was watching; and not a second later, a swarm of Gahlok exited. The blue Bohrok seemed to adjust to the change in light without trouble because they didn't even slow down. Which worked just fine for Onua. He watched as the first of the Gahlok stepped on the earth in front of the cavern entrance and immediately fell into a concealed hole in the ground. The rest of the Gahlok's siblings didn't seem to notice because they simply fell into the pit with it, their metal bodies clunking against each other until all of them were inside. Onua was amazed at the stupidity of the Gahlok, but he didn't question it. He simply dashed from out of his hiding place and climbed down into the pit he had dug out. He had to move quickly. He remembered what happened the last time the Toa had trapped a swarm of Bohrok and if he wasn't fast, the Gahlok would recover quickly. The Bohrok were still chittering, the sounds of their bodies scraping against each other annoying Onua's ears. He landed on top of a fallen Gahlok and immediately found the last Krana he needed: A Krana Xa. He smacked open the Gahlok's head plate, snatched the Xa, and deposited it into his bag full of other Krana in one smooth motion. With that out of the way, Onua climbed back out of the pit, kicking away a Gahlok that tried to grab his legs as he did so. He reached the top of the pit just as the rest of the swarm recovered from the fall. They, too, were now climbing back up, but they were progressing much slower than Onua due to their lack of climbing claws. The Toa of Earth considered burying them, then decided against it. Burying the Gahlok would probably work, but only temporarily. They would dig themselves out eventually or perhaps be dug out by the Bohrok Va. In any case, Onua knew a more permanent solution was needed. Only the Krana can defeat the Bohrok, Onua thought, glancing at his bag as he ran away from the pit. I need to find the others. The time to defeat the swarms is now. - Comments, criticism, questions, etc. are all welcome . -TNTOS-
  10. Just posted the first story in my new series of flash fics, The Biological Chronicle, that I mentioned in yesterday's entry. Expect a new story every Tuesday. Hope you enjoy them. -TNTOS-
  11. Monday is that day of the week that everyone hates. I think we should petition the government to make it illegal. Who's with me? While we figure out how to do that, here's an excerpt from this week's chapter: Read the rest of Chapter IV here. As for the "special announcement" mentioned in this post's title, starting tomorrow I am going to begin posting a series of flash fiction in the Short Stories forum. The series will be titled "The Biological Chronicle" and each short story will be based on a year from the official Bionicle story (first story will be titled 2001, second story 2002, third story 2003, fourth story 2004, etc.). I will post one story a week. Yes, I know I said In the End was my last Bionicle fanfic, which kind of makes me a liar I guess, but the idea of writing ten flash fiction stories based on every year of Bionicle was too much for me to resist. Besides, I need practice writing flash fics and this seemed like a good way to do it. And anyway, I'll probably have them all posted before I finish posting In the End, so In the End will still technically be the last Bionicle fanfic I post on BZP. That's all for now, so see ya, -TNTOS-
  12. The Ambage-hosted Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest Welcome, one and all, to the Ambage-hosted Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest! Be sure to read all of the Contest Rules and Important Information. With the success of the Flash Fiction Marathon, as well as the want of added perks for Ambage members, we bring you the Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest. These contests are hosted by the Ambage hosts.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Contest Rules and Important Information [*]There will be a new contest every other week. The contests will alternate between Bionicle and COT.[*]Each contest will last two weeks. The first week will be the entry period, the second week will be the judging period.[*]Every COT contest will take place in this topic. Instead of creating a million topics, as this will be a recurring contest once a month (with a two-week Bionicle contest in between), I will be updating this post with the current contest and make a post announcing the new contest each time. Remember, these will be once a month, so keep checking back (and participate in the Bionicle ones, too!).[*]Each entry should be between 400-800 words. This is flash fiction. The absolute maximum word count is 1000 words, there is no absolute minimum.[*]Each contest will have a new theme. Keep checking back for the new contest's theme.[*]COT entries are not allowed to be Bionicle. That's what the Bionicle themes are for. And vice versa. Save your COT stories for the COT contests.[*]For each theme, contestants will have one week to enter. The next week will comprise of judging. The next two weeks after that will be a Bionicle contest. Then another COT contest and so forth.[*]Entries will be judged. All contests will have at least two judges. Judges will not enter.[*]You must post your stories in a topic. Unlike the Flash Fiction Marathon, you cannot just post your entries in this topic. Please make a topic for your stories.[*]All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines. There shouldn't be any problem here.[*]Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP onlyafter the start of the contest for it to be eligible. The exception is if you are a member of the Ambage and were given the theme before hand.[*]Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no gory descriptions, excessive violence, inappropriate content, et cetera.[*]You cannot edit your entry once the entry period has closed. Editing will be allowed until then. If editing is done after the deadline, your entry will be disqualified.[*]This contest is open to all BZP members. However, there are perks to being an Ambage member. See the Prizes section.[*]There will be prizes for each contest. Read the Prizes section for more.[*]Each contestant is allowed THREE entries for each theme. You may of course write more, but only three flash fiction stories can be entered into the contest. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------How To Enter: There will be two main topics, one for COT (this topic), and one for Bionicle; make sure you post your entry in the right topic. If you are entering a Bionicle theme, post in the Bionicle topic.To enter, please use this form:Member Name: [your name goes here]Theme: [include what theme you are entering]Word Count: [insert the word count of your story here]Link to Story and Title: [provide a link to your story with the title as name] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Current Theme: Theme #4: Christmas Any interpretation of the theme is valid, but your entry must be a COT story and it must adhere to the rules posted above. Also, if you are an Ambage member, keep in mind the December Writing Prompt (to get more achievements): "She had hair like a raven's wings--and a beak to match." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Themes Archive: Theme #1 Theme #2 Theme #3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Prizes The winner of each contest will receive the following: [*]A custom member title for a month, stating "Bionicle/COT Writer of the Month" courtesy of Hahli Husky[*]A spotlight on the front page of BZPower at the end of the month, along with the Bionicle contest winner.[*]For Ambage members only: A review by an Ambage judge.[*]For Ambage members only: A spotlight in the Ambage topic. Feel free to post any questions here.Your hosts,Velox55555TolkienNuile
  13. The Ambage-hosted Fortnightly Flash Fiction ContestWelcome, one and all, to the Ambage-hosted Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest! Be sure to read all of the Contest Rules and Important Information. With the success of the Flash Fiction Marathon, as well as the want of added perks for Ambage members, we bring you the Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest. These contests are hosted by the Ambage hosts. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Contest Rules and Important Information [*]There will be a new contest every other week. The contests will alternate between Bionicle and COT (a topic will be made in COT when the first COT contest begins October 15th). [*]Each contest will last two weeks. The first week will be the entry period, the second week will be the judging period. [*]Every Bionicle contest will take place in this topic. Instead of creating a million topics, as this will be a recurring contest once a month (with a two-week COT contest in between), I will be updating this post with the current contest and make a post announcing the new contest each time. Remember, these will be once a month, so keep checking back (and participate in the COT ones, too!).[*]Each entry should be between 400-800 words. This is flash fiction. The absolute maximum word count is 1000 words.[*]Each contest will have a new theme. Keep checking back for the new contest's theme. [*]Bionicle entries may be human-Bionicle, if you wish. Just as long as they have some sort of relation to Bionicle. As usual, the story does not have to follow the canon storyline -- you may create your own characters, settings, etc., as long as in some way the story relates to Bionicle.[*]COT entries are not allowed to be Bionicle. That's what the Bionicle themes are for. And vice versa. Save your COT stories for the COT contests.[*]For each theme, contestants will have one week to enter. The next week will comprise of judging. The next two weeks after that will be a COT contest. Then another Bionicle contest and so forth.[*]Entries will be judged. All contests will have at least two judges. Judges will not enter. [*]You must post your stories in a topic. Unlike the Flash Fiction Marathon, you cannot just post your entries in this topic. Please make a topic for your stories. [*]All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines. There shouldn't be any problem here.[*]Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP only after the start of the contest for it to be eligible.[*]Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no gory descriptions, excessive violence, inappropriate content, et cetera.[*]You cannot edit your entry once the entry period has closed. Editing will be allowed until then. If editing is done after the deadline, your entry will be disqualified. [*]This contest is open to all BZP members. However, there are perks to being an Ambage member. See the Prizes section.[*]There will be prizes for each contest. Read the Prizes section for more.[*]Each contestant is allowed THREE entries for each theme. You may of course write more, but only three flash fiction stories can be entered into the contest. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Current Theme: OTC Contest Any interpretation of the theme is valid, but your entry must be a Bionicle story and it must adhere to the rules posted above. Previous Themes: Theme #1: Red Star Theme #2: Tablet of Transit Theme #3: Broken Mask || Entry Lists || ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------PrizesThe winner of each contest will receive the following: [*]A custom member title for a month, stating "Bionicle/COT Writer of the Month" courtesy of Hahli Husky[*]A spotlight on the front page of BZPower at the end of the month, along with the COT contest winner.[*]For Ambage members only: A review by an Ambage judge.[*]For Ambage members only: A spotlight in the Ambage topic. Feel free to post any questions here.Your hosts,Velox55555TolkienNuile
  14. Flash Fiction Marathon 2 [OTC Topic :: Entries Index] With the success of last year's Flash Fiction Marathon, here we are again with another one (approved by HH)! Once again, you are to run a marathon. A marathon of short stories, or, more appropriately, flash fiction pieces. For the next ten days there will be ten themes. Five will be OTC-themed, and five will be Bionicle-themed.Sound like something you’re interested in? Then make sure you read the following: Contest Rules and Important Information Each entry MUST be under 750 words in length. This is flash fiction.One new theme will be given out each night. Each theme will be given out around Midnight, EST, every night for 10 daysThe contests will alternate between BIONICLE and OTC. The first contest will be BIONICLE, the second will be OTC, then going back to Bionicle and so on.Bionicle entries may be human-Bionicle, if you wish. Just as long as they have some sort of relation to Bionicle. As usual, the story does not have to follow the canon storyline -- you may create your own characters, settings, etc., as long as in some way the story relates to Bionicle.Bionicle themes must be Bionicle. The OTC themes are for non-Bionicle stories.For each theme, contestants will have 48 hours to enter – so, if it’s a Bionicle theme, you will have until the next Bionicle theme is announced (as there will be a OTC theme in between) to enter your story; the themes will overlap.After the 48-hour entry period, the entries will be placed in a poll for you – yes, you! – to decide the winner for the day. At the end of all 10, the 10 winners will be pooled together and judged by judges for a final prize.It is very likely that an extra prize will be given for those who enter all 10 challenges, both COT and Bionicle.If you are going to post your stories, do so in the correct forum; OTC stories belong in OTC, Bionicle stories belong in the Short Stories section of the Library.All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines.Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP after the start of the contest for it to be eligible.Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no overly gory descriptions, excessive violence, sexual content, inappropriate content, et cetera.You cannot edit your entry once that theme's entry period is over. So if you post your story on the first day, you have another whole day to edit. If you post your entry last minute, you will not have much time to edit. The polls will be going up the night that the theme ends.If your story is not posted in this topic with the correct format, your entry will not be entered into the contest.Do not use unnecessary formatting -- see more in the "How to Enter" section. ---------------------------------------------------- How To Enter: There will be two main topics, one for Bionicle (this one) and one in OTC (link pending); make sure you post your entry in the right one. If you are entering a OTC theme, post in the OTC topic, not this one. To enter, please use this form:Member Name:Theme:Word Count:Story: NOTE: Do NOT link to your story. It is fine if you wish to post it on BZPower, but for entering this contest, we ask that you post your story in this topic. Thanks!Furthermore, do NOT have any unnecessary coding when entering your stories. This means no color, no signoffs, no indents, etc. You may use italics, underline, etc. if it’s used for the body of your story, but please leave your posts as bare possible. If you have a pre-set posting style, just know that the story will be removed of its formatting. ---------------------------------------------------- And so, without further ado, I present to you: Theme #9: Paradise Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: July 6th, 11:59PM PST. Previous Themes: Theme #1: A Dark Hunt Theme #3: The Chronicler Theme #5: Find the Power Theme #7: The Order ---------------------------------------------------- It is our honor and pleasure to host yet another contest for you. We wish you all the best of luck, and hope we receive as many entries as possible! Your hosts,Andrew (Velox)John (55555)
  15. Flash Fiction Marathon [Bionicle Topic :: Entries Index] With the success of last year's Flash Fiction Marathon, here we are again with another one! Once again, you are to run a marathon. A marathon of short stories, or, more appropriately, flash fiction pieces. For the next ten days there will be ten themes. Five will be OTC-themed, and five will be Bionicle-themed.Sound like something you’re interested in? Then make sure you read the following: Contest Rules and Important Information Each entry MUST be under 750 words in length. This is flash fiction.One new theme will be given out each night. Each theme will be given out around Midnight, EST, every night for 10 daysThe contests will alternate between BIONICLE and OTC. The first contest will be BIONICLE, the second will be OTC, then going back to Bionicle and so on.OTC entries are not allowed to be Bionicle. That's what the Bionicle themes are for.For each theme, contestants will have 48 hours to enter – so, if it’s a Bionicle theme, you will have until the next Bionicle theme is announced (as there will be a OTC theme in between there) to enter your story; the themes will overlap.After the 48-hour entry period, the entries will be placed in a poll for you – yes, you! – to decide the winner for the day. At the end of all 10, the 10 winners will be pooled together and judged by judges for a final prize.It is very likely that an extra prize will be given for those who enter all 10 challenges, both OTC and Bionicle.If you are going to post your stories, do so in the correct forum; OTC stories belong in OTC, Bionicle stories belong in the Short Stories section of the Library.All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines.Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP after the start of the contest for it to be eligible.Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no overly gory descriptions, excessive violence, sexual content, inappropriate content, et cetera.You cannot edit your entry once that theme's entry period is over. So if you post your story on the first day, you have another whole day to edit. If you post your entry last minute, you will not have much time to edit. The polls will be going up the night that the theme ends.If your story is not posted in this topic with the correct format, your entry will not be entered into the contest.Do not use unnecessary formatting -- see more in the "How to Enter" section. ---------------------------------------------------- How To Enter: There will be two main topics, one for Bionicle (here) and one in OTC (this one); make sure you post your entry in the right one. If you are entering a Bionicle theme, post in the Bionicle topic, not this one. To enter, please use this form:Member Name:Theme:Word Count:Story: NOTE: Do NOT link to your story. It is fine if you wish to post it on BZPower, but for entering this contest, we ask that you post your story in this topic. Thanks!Furthermore, do NOT have any unnecessary coding when entering your stories. This means no color, no signoffs, no indents, etc. You may use italics, underline, etc. if it’s used for the body of your story, but please leave your posts as bare possible. If you have a pre-set posting style, just know that the story will be removed of its formatting. ---------------------------------------------------- And so, without further ado, I present to you: Theme #10: Art To FictionWrite a story that the above image would be an illustration for. The above scene must occur in your story, but beyond that it fair game. Remember that this is an OTC theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: July 7th, 11:59 PM PST. Previous Themes: Theme #2: Bones Theme #4: Character Story Theme #6: The Mask Theme #8: Glass ---------------------------------------------------- It is our honor and pleasure to host yet another contest for you. We wish you all the best of luck, and hope we receive as many entries as possible! Your hosts, Andrew (Velox)John (55555)
  16. I know it's meant to be quick and short and all, but I think I would finish my stories quicker if I didn't spend twice as mcuh time cutting the story down to size as I do actually writing them. Oh well. That said, if you haven't taken a gander of the polls, you should do that. Remember, it's flash fiction, so it doesn't take long at all to read six or so of them. If you have some spare minutes, go do that! It's no fun to only have like 15 people (tops) vote on each poll. Join in!
  17. Note: "exit number 117" is meant to be read as "exit number one seventeen." Exit Number 117 Fortnightly Flash Fiction #5: Branching Out In this wild twisting chasing highway we like to call life I suppose the first time I found myself facing an impossible choice Was the midnight I came to exit number 117 And it wasn't the number that made it particularly special The sign was old and worn and the 7 was sort of scratched As though a bird had flown into it or something And the road was cracked and faded and the puddles of Asphalt I saw in my headlights were gray and older than my parents I slowed down because I was the only one on the road It's an interesting moment when you're the only one on the road Because nobody else can make your choices for you You can walk on glass if you like, or walk by The sky was full of stars and a bright moon and planets and galaxies But I didn't bother looking at them because I was busy Wondering which way was right for me You see, my parents always taught me to follow my dreams And I was sure that my dreams lay farther down the highway Maybe exit number 200, or number 179, or the place where the asphalt ends But exit number 117 had a strange charm all the same The dusty road begged to be travelled And the darkness beyond the highway begged to be explored And how is an 18-year-old supposed to know exactly which exit to take anyway? I guessed that this wasn't my road But who knew, and did it matter? So I put it off for another day, put the engine in gear, and my tires squeaked as I Pulled away from exit number 117 And set my tired eyes back to the highway The wide road was easier to drive And easier than thinking about other places I could go More comfortable than thinking about branching out, diversifying, changing Because, after all, the easiest road to travel Is the one I've been driving all my life And it's simpler to keep exit number 117 in my rearview mirror than to keep it in front of me But every now and then, I'll feel a twinge of regret The bite of nostalgia as I look back and think for a moment I see that exit I passed A faint glimmer on the horizon It's not there of course: I passed it long ago And I've never found the time to go back Who knows if it would even be there by the time I got around to it Now I'm farther along the highway and it's been a fun ride But I'll always wonder what lay beyond exit number 117 I guess that's how it works: you choose an exit, or you don't
  18. 55555

    Echoes

    It's kind of a helpless feeling. The feeling that something is falling apart, and there's nothing to be done about it. Just another world ending. But it always gets me a little bit.And the darkness took it, as it takes them all. But not mine.The survey class ship Revelations fired up her engines and moved on, flitting back through dimensions. Home.It just seemed wrong somehow, even though it makes sense, and I know they aren't really real. Once we discovered inter-dimensional navigation it became obvious that the things we could learn from it were invaluable. With the push of a button and a few minutes of our time we could see the horrors that we've avoided. The best kind of evidence, gathered from a million apocalypses, could save us from our own. It already has, we believe. Several critical eco-system failures have been traced to the extinction of a particular micro-organism (ultimately dubbed the Apocapolyp), a finding which saved our world. But it does something to you, to see the world end, so many times. We could save some of these worlds, with what we have learned. But our department doesn't have the resources, and we may learn more be letting them burn. Plus, they aren't real anyway. They can't be, because we are. All of these others are mere reflections, projections, the imaginings of our universe. The screams from these worlds that I watch are not the screams of real people, they are just echoes. The Revelations blinked through dimension after dimension on its way to Terra Prima.That was when disaster struck.Something failed. I'm not an engineer, I don't know what it was. In an instant we had come to a halt, in a dimension far, far from home. I could tell from the life sign readings. This was a small earth. But as my ship approached, I realized that it could just as well have been my home. There were cities, satellites, even a moon colony. A quick scan of radio traffic indicated the correct frequency for emergency communications and indicated a language mutually intelligible with English. I swung into an emergency landing sequence and flipped on the radio. "Come in Terra Echo, this is the survey ship Revelations. Request emergency landing instructions, over.""Receiving you, Revelations. You have permission to land at Bogota Spaceport, coordinates following..." A string of numbers flowed through the comm unit, and were automatically plugged into the navigation systems. The ship blazed down through the atmosphere, and came to a smooth landing only minutes later. There was a small delegation to meet him, the local authorities seemed to have realized where he had come from. They looked so real. He lifted the cockpit and climbed out of his ship. As he walked toward them, the welcoming committee exchanged whispers. His headset detected it and amplified it in real time. "He looks almost real." - John
  19. Ambage-Hosted Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest Entry List Theme #1: Red Star Entry #1:Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: The Red StarWord Count: 804Link to Story and Title: The Hole in the SkyEntry #2:Member Name: Quote (Mr.Traveler) [aka: Grant-Sud]Theme: The Red StarWord Count: 998Link to Story: Weeping StarsEntry #3:Member Name: iBrow VoltexTheme: The Red StarWord Count: 804Link to Story: In the MourningEntry #4:Member name: ChroTheme: The Red StarWord count: 995 (approx.)Link to story: SnowfallEntry #5:Member Name: Clockwork KineticistTheme: The Red StarWord Count: 325Link to Story: CheckmateEntry #6:Member Name: TolkienTheme: Red StarWord Count: 985Link: Hue #1471Entry #7:Member Name: Lord DarkonTheme: Red StarWord Count: 557Link to Story and Title: CrimsonEntry #8:Member Name: dotcomTheme: Red StarWord Count: 844Link to Story and Title:Crimson Note
  20. Ambage-Host Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest Entry List Theme #1: Pathfinding Entry #1:Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: "Pathfinding"Word Count: 921 (epigraph included)Link to Story and Title: That Extra MileEntry #2:Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: "Pathfinding"Word Count: 868Link to Story and Title: Rugged ExplorersEntry #3:Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: PathfindingWord Count: 922Link to Story and Title: A Jaunt in the WoodsEntry #4:Member Name: ZaraynaTheme: PathfindingWord Count: 1,000 words.Link to Story and Title: We Wanted Those Infidels Dead!Entry #5:Member Name: Delicious Chocolate Milk (Eyru)Theme: PathfindingWord Count: 427Link to Story and Title: Beyond the ConstellationsEntry #6:Member Name: AderiaTheme: PathfindingWord Count: 914Link to Story and Title: Someone's Waiting For YouEntry #7:Name: Emissary to the VoidTheme: PathfindingWord Count: 992 (excluding title)Story: Julia's DinerEntry #8:Member Name: dotcomTheme: PathfindingWord Count: 997Story: The Wrong PathEntry #9:Member name: KakaruTheme: PathfindingWordcount: 964Story: Accomplishment
  21. Rinse Cycle A clang — the darkness is thrown over you like a blanket. Where—? You’re crowded against several others in a small cage, unable to speak or otherwise move. The chamber proper is much larger: walls towering straight up and joining at right angles with the ceiling. How—? All you can remember is being surrounded by skin before being deposited into this cage. Before that... everything is a blur. Darkness. Dampness. Light. Why—? You stop yourself. “Why?” is a question far beyond your comprehension. Besides, the chamber has just shuddered. There — it shudders again. You hear a noise from its rough center as if something is being pushed forth. The sound of water rushing becomes clear. A click. A hiss. The same water you heard now slaps you in the head; you fall against a couple of your unseen companions, unable to hold yourself upright against such a vicious, burning torrent. You’re drowning, aren’t you? A whoosh. Something foamy is mixed into the water now, covering you and, you presume, the rest of the chamber. Abruptly, the streams of water pause; they start again in a different pattern, blasting the foam off your surface with uncomfortable force. More foam — more water — you lose yourself in the cycle; it’s easier to forget yourself and succumb than to think too hard about what you cannot understand anyway. When you think you can stand no more, when the water and foam have torn every speck of foreign material from your body, the cycle stops. You listen; no more water, save for the clouds of steam that feel as heavy as weights. Is it all over? When you start to think it is, the temperature rises. Steam is vented through an unseen filter as the remainder of water resting on your skin is brushed away by the heat. The heat would be comforting save for two problems: how preternatural it seems, and how much it increases. You burn. You burn till any remaining moisture has been stripped from the air, and then a little longer. Then the heat, like the steam before it, dissipates. You suddenly feel alone. The question “why?” presents itself again, and this time, you do not refuse it: In the dark, lying at an awkward angle against cold metal and plastic, you have nothing better to do than think. So you think, and you wait, and you think while you wait, and you wait while you think— Click. O, glorious fortune! — the light returns, and you feel the touch of free air and are assuaged. Even when a giant’s grasp reclaims you and bears you into the unknown, you don’t have fear. You are laid upon a light paper bed. “What’re we eating, mommy?” queries an eager voice above you; you both hear and feel vibrations of excitement through the table, courtesy of a little girl’s bouncing. “Spaghetti,” is the reply. Thump, and the plate lands beside you. “With meatballs?” “With meatballs,” the mother assures her daughter. “But you have to eat up before they’re cold!” You’re lifted again. You feel the vague impressions of skin, air, light, and tomato sauce in rapid succession as if they’re a blurred film strip.
  22. Hope of Rebirth SHE AWOKE IN PAIN on the cold, hard stone floor. Deep gashes had been ripped into her skin all across her arms and body. They were healing, half black and half crimson, but she knew they would never heal completely. It wouldn’t be long before she tore them open again. Black scorch marks riddled her skin, permanent, unable to be washed away—water was a poison, burning like fire would a normal human. She brushed her pale-blond hair behind her ears and sat up slowly, looking around her to see the prison-like abode where she slept each night. Atop a cliff; huge, jagged rocks surrounding her, stone floor, no ceiling. It was her punishment to herself, unwilling to live anywhere in comfort. And for just a brief moment, just like every morning, she had hope. Hope that somehow she had been changed. Had been healed. Was no longer the monster that she had been the day before. But then, just like every morning, that hope was extinguished as it began to happen. She began to change. Her back became rough and thick, the skin drying and cracking as it turned scarlet. Gigantic, leathery wings grew from her back and extended until each one could wrap around her body two- or three-fold, ending with two spiked points. Her fingers became callused and sharp; curved, cone-shaped nails protruded from the ends, over an inch long each. Her feet followed suit, becoming more animalistic with claws to match her hands. The blood of the scars seemed to brighten as her whole skin became tougher and paler. She was still recognizably human, yet bestial. She shrieked and bellowed, trying to fight the transformation. But she couldn’t. She clawed at her body, drawing fresh blood and reopening old scabs. Her stomach growled and with a haunting fear she knew: it was time to feed. Her legs moved as if under their own power and she leaped into the air, burgundy wings extending. Below her valleys and forests covered the ground with a dirt road dividing them. She flew to the forest, keeping close to the tree tops. Her nostrils flared and she knew human flesh was nearby. Her body shot down toward the scent until finally she saw a young boy in the distance among the trees, playing in a river by himself, his parents nowhere to be seen. She clawed at herself and used all of her strength to stop, but the beast inside her was relentless. Fangs extended from her canines, the scent of blood close. She tried to push them back into her skull but instead drew blood from her thumbs. Desperate to stop, she clawed at herself again and again, ripping her stomach open, trying anything to stop herself from destroying the young life. But the fire inside her quickly healed the lacerations and staunched the bleeding; her clawing had only caused more pain—failed to stop her flight toward her next victim. She landed on the forest frondescence and ripped into his flesh, burning his body to a crisp before devouring it, all the time fighting her internal demon. When it was finished she quickly took off again, in control, slamming into several trees and branches in a crazed dash before flying above the tree line and back to her home before she could catch the scent of another. What have I done? The pained thought that went through her mind day after day, mistake after mistake. But today was worse. Today she had gone too far, past the point of return. She landed on the cold stone and sat down, secluded from civilization, hidden behind her haven of large rocks. Her arms wrapped around her knees, and her blond hair fell into her face. Her wings were still expanded, wrapped around her like a shield and a blanket as her nails and teeth receded into their normal appearance. A tear formed in the pit of her azure eye, stinging as the salty liquid seeped into the deep gash around her eyelids. As she thought about what she had done, more tears fell. They burned into her flesh, steam rising from her cheeks in their path, but she allowed them to fall, keeping her arms where they were. She allowed the pain, knowing she deserved it—and much worse. She wished to die, to end the cruelty that she inflicted upon innocent victims. Today had been the worst—a child. What have I done? she repeated in her mind again as even more tears fell. She hugged herself tighter, weeping bitterly, and awaited the new dawn when she knew she would hunt—and kill—again. But she couldn’t let that happen. She had to hope that one day, somehow, she might become reborn—no longer the monster, but a beautiful creature. She opened her eyes slowly, looking off the cliff and into the sky. She needed help. She had to stop. Become reborn. Live under the oppression of this ailment no longer. But can I? she wondered. I have to. ~ :: ~ A/N: Written for the "Rebirth" Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest, this story was inspired by the amazing drawing Kaida (careful, the topic is unfortunately dead) by the extraordinary Ezorov. Many thanks to Katie for allowing me to use that as inspiration. I really enjoyed writing this character, and I hope to write more about her. But for now, enjoy this piece that stands on its own--comments and constructive criticisms are welcome.
  23. Simulacrum

    Rebirth

    Rebirth An explosion of light, a shockwave of heat, pain that roared through bones and muscles alike, fire that coursed through the veins, and a dull throb of otherworldly pain, resounding in your tormented soul, as it was ripped from your body and subjected to ablution in the cold, biting wind of the realm of judgment. Rebirth. As she lay on the sand, as she took her first breath, the frosty air filling her lungs, she could only gasp, between quivering breaths that did nothing to soothe the burning desire for oxygen. The beach, with its cruel, cold waves that lapped incessantly at her unprotected form, an endless sea of crushed glass as she stared at it from her position on the white sand, eyes burning from contact with the saline crystals that surrounded her, crystals that attached to her shining armour and supple skin, unwilling to leave of be brushed off. As she lied on the sand, she noticed that it was cool, almost icy, an amazing revelation to her, for the sensation of sensory stimulation was a pleasant, but fading memory, a memory that she was amazed to have witnessed twice. She need to stand; Feeling wasn’t enough. She wanted to see this sea of crushed glass from above, she wanted to laugh, to scream, to cry, anything to hear the sound of her own voice, and she wanted to find something to eat, to indulge in both tasting food, and absorbing the aromas she found herself dearly missing. She managed to rise to her knees. As she screamed in agony, slamming her palms on the yielding sand, spine arched and mouth open as the prolonged shriek of pain continued, she felt her muscules rippling with energy, her bones shrieking in agony as they were charged with unseen power, and veins aflame with a roar of pure ferocity. It seemed she wasn’t ready to stand. Remaining on her knees, hands shaking as she breathed, every slow inhale accompanied by a spasm of pain, and every exhale forcing scorching air through her throat with a whine of pain and a gasp of anguish. Yet, even as her own body cried out for mercy, as her fortitude failed her, her mind continued with renewed resolve, and her soul soared with determination. As her muscules squealed in agony, as her head pounding as if it was bursting, and as her skeleton seemed to disintegrate, she began to rise, striving to stand as her body seemed to liquefy. The pain subsided instantly. She had risen. It could hardly be believed; the act of putting all of her weight on two feet seemed like a task entirely impossible to her. And yet she was standing, master of her body, statuesque in her erect posture. The beach looked much different from above, the infinity of being at eye-level with what appeared to be a sea of crushed glass suddenly replaced with a bird’s-eye view of a large, but far from sea-esque bank of sand, circling a forest floor, which, as she discovered when she craned her neck skyward, lead to a mountain of grey and white, snow-capped, and seeming to reach above the clouds themselves. Still stunned in disbelief, she rotated, her legs shaky as she turned, equally amazed by the truly infinite ocean. That was when it caught her eye, the ugly, unnaturally shiny object. Silver, and longer than she was tall, the cylinder, for that was its shape, save for the half-sphere vertical extremities, was in sharp contrast to the surrounding environment in every way possible. Crouching down to its height, she laid her hand on the metal, unpleasantly surprised by the lifeless cold that greeted her. Yet, as she stared at it, thoughts and emotions swelled up inside her. Is this from whence I came? Is this the womb that gave me life? She had faint memories of things long past, but this unnatural, painfully shiny object met all of the criteria she could apply to judge an object to be what had given her birth. And these memories, of faces and locations, of friendly words, heated arguments, and a strange thing that she wanted to call love, but thought it too harsh and cruel to be named so kindly, could they possibly be more than dreams, ideas that she had created before her birth, on this sea of crushed glass that wasn’t a sea, and not made of glass? I have been born for the first time, and I have been reborn. The logical impossibility entranced her, as she stroked the lifeless cylinder, and thought of the all too lively memories that fluttered in the tempest of her mind. But as she dwelled on birth and rebirth, she found no answers. Standing, she gave a last look at the cylinder on the sand, slowly being surrounded by water as the tide rose, and she felt oddly touched, as if she was staring at a loved one’s corpse, or the result of unfathomable destruction. More frightened than moved by the suddenly arising feeling of sorrow and heart ache, she turned from the cylinder, blinking in confusing as she felt tears streaming from her eyes. As she strode into the forest, leaving the cylindrical canister behind on the sand, tears continued to flow, but were now accompanied by a flow of memories. Her mind clearing, names connected with faces and locations, the reasons for arguments and the meanings of friendly words were found, and the reason for her unwillingness to name love its quixotically given title was discovered. As she blinked in surprise, letting the flow of memories sink into her consciousness, only a single thought filled her mind. Rebirth. And, as she stood, the soft, dewy moss of the jungle floor wetting her bare feet, her mind seized by the emotional upheaval of a life she had forgotten, she realized it was so.
  24. Entry for fortnightly flash fiction contest since Andrew asked and oh no I don't have any homework at all and wasn't planning on writing one of my other stories for the Ambage at all but who's complaining am I right. Theme: Pathfinding. Wordcount: 964I feel lost. That's not even an awful metaphor either. I literally am not aware of my physical surroundings in their relation to where I want to be. Absolutely lost.The walls are white, painted cement like I remember them being for years. The ceilings are lit by rows of bright fluorescent lights, stretching endlessly down the halls. The floor is black and smells of rubber or crude oil. Petroleum based, anyways. Not like I care. The smell is awful, that's the important thing. When I recall my past in here, it seems --as though a vague mental image-- that it was almost a year ago. The floors have been getting darker and my lungs seem to grate with every breath.I hear footsteps padding down the hall, somewhere around the next corner. I slow down as I approach the next intersection and press myself against the wall. Within seconds the muted echoes approach and I plant a solid fist in the runner's stomach, sending him sprawling across the floor. I look down at his face with an immense amount of guilt as he gasps for breath. There are no mirrors in this place, true, but an external sense tells me that the face of this man is my own. Whether a clone, an apparition, or simply a psychological trick, I no longer care. I put my foot against his throat and do what I've done this entire time, to survive. I know that I am the only one in this maze, quite literally. Every version of myself that I've cut off through decisions in the past have been merged to a single universe, where I've been forced to confront every version of myself and destroy them. I suppose whoever engineered this think of it as am amusing metaphor, that I literally have to kill off every bad decision I've made and come to terms with who I've become in that time, but all I see is a twisted reality where I've become a killer.As his body dissipates into the ground, the stench of rubber seems to grow ever so slightly.I continue down the halls, feeling more cheated with every kill. I feel sick that I'm becoming desensitized to this, that the moral problems and emotional impact is dulled as my methods become more brutal, merciless, and stunningly effective.I make a right at the next intersection, followed by two lefts, a flight of stairs, and another right. There's no method to my choices any more. I used to agonize over the psychology of the maze, how every corner could be a setup to drive me into doing exactly what they want-- whoever they are. But now I just blindly decide on a whim, snapping back and forth, stopping occasionally to listen for the footsteps of myself.Oh, speak of the devil. Another apparition runs past a crossroad ahead, screaming. I lunge forward and give chase. My breaths come heavy now. The death toll of the day is starting to wear. I'll probably take a nap after this one. He's wearing a straitjacket. I quicky match his speed as he turns a corner. I twist my leg around his and plant my foot on the ground, effectively collapsing his gait. I grab his neck and arm as I pull my leg back, slamming him face-first into the ground with a splintering crack. His body slowly disintegrates into a swirling black mass, like a swarm of flies that crawl into the black floor. My stomach is upset and I slump against the wall, directly across from a doorway.Wait. There are no doors in this maze. I haul myself to my feet, wavering, and nearly puke with the excitement of this find. I take one step forward, then two, then I brace myself against the opposite wall with one hand and stop to take a deep breath and calm my stomach. I tentatively slide my fingers around the brass knob. It's cold, shiny and perfectly smooth. It's probably never been touched by my hand. I crack it open, and before I have time to regret my decision, I close my eyes and swing the door wide open.I sit up with a start, my fingers still clenched in midair. The hum of medical equipment fills the silence my ears had been accustomed to in the maze. The walls are still white, but there's something different. My body goes cold as I move my legs, realizing that it feels so different than what I had been doing in there. A doctor stands to my side, frowning."The training was supposed to go on for six weeks more," he remarked. Was he angry, disappointed, or was that just an observation? The feeling of being cheated fills my mind."May I refresh your mind? It's possible that the months in there have erased some of your memories. You are in a military training facility. Here we give you the most difficult of all tasks so that you may be ready for anything in the battlefield. You must know how to kill, and you must see the look in your own eyes as you do so. What have you learned?"None of this sounds familiar. This doesn't sound like something I would voluntarily ask for, and I feel no sense of duty or accomplishment at his words. It all just seems pointless. I stand up and waver for a moment as I regain my balance. Suddenly a new sensation fills my mind and I can't seem to push it back to my subconscious. The feel of solid ground beneath my feet. I'm no longer lost.I grab the doctor by the collar with only a tingling sense of regret in my mind."Let me show you."
  25. The Wrong Path They called it the Pathfinder.Or at least, most people did. Like most things shrouded in myth, it had no single name. Some called it the Ghoul of the Forest. Or The Seeker's Last Lucky Break.Most called it the Pathfinder.Maybe it would be more appropriate to refer to it as her. According to every account from the few Seekers that had seen her and come out of the forest, it always took the shape of a young girl made of stone, but moving like a person. The people of Town do not want to think of her as living. So she was an it.She would appear from between the trees, if you were too (un)lucky, and lead you astray. She would do nothing but talk to you. Of anything that could make you lose yourself. Eventually she would begin to talk about things she shouldn't have known. Things no one knew but you.And you would follow her, in anger, hope, or desperation. And then you would be lost.Of course, almost everyone who wandered into the Forest of Infinite Paths would be lost from the beginning. The forest, made of rock and utterly uninhabited, was what lay between us and paradise.Or so the legends go.I live in the Town. It's a huge settlement, closed off from the rest of the world--if there even is such a thing. The Forest stands in the way of glory. There is nothing around us, nothing beyond the horizon, but the forest. Those brave enough to transverse the forest and attempt to reach glory are called Seekers.As its name would indicate, the forest floor is covered with twisting paths, thousands at a time. No two paths are the same, and they change perpetually: You could be observing the forest for hours, but as soon as you turn away for even a second, the paths will shift.Most paths lead you back to town, but some don't. According to the Seekers, there are some paths that lead directly to paradise.And it's these paths that the Pathfinder targets. They call her the Pathfinder because if you see her, it means you have found the right path to glory. All you have to do is continue walking. But she's also called the Pathfinder because she will always find every potentially successful path and lead its traveler astray.At least, that is what I heard from a Seeker one day while I was in the tavern. He and his brother had taken parallel paths in the forest (no two people can take the same path), and set out for the other side. "It was mostly just boring" he'd said.Then she came.His brother was in a "good"; path. She led him away. And he was lost.I heard that Seeker went back into the forest. I never saw him again. --- I'm writing this from just outside the forest. I am about to enter it myself.I know I can do it.If I don't, I have nothing.I look at the ground before me. The rock trunks of the trees loom all around my field of vision. Snaking around them are the well-tread paths. No two alike.No turning back. --- The Seeker was right. It really is mostly boring.There's nothing alive in this forest. I sometimes spot other Seekers in their paths, but it's very rarely. They don't pay any attention to me, though. I'm marked, and they can see that plainly.I keep walking for what seem to be hours. The forest always looks the same. Even at nighttime, the forest is bright and blank, eerie in its uneven uniformity.I'm not tired. Or hungry. Or thirsty.The forest seems to negate every basic human need. It's as if the ones who travel this phantom realm start becoming rock themselves: no needs, no desires, just pure undemanding existence. It's mind-numbing.And then it happens.And I see her, for the first time.She's not after me. A Seeker on a path several yards away from mine exclaims loudly when he sees her.He's on the right path.But he isn't, for long. She begins to talk. I can't understand what she says, even though I can register her words clearly. I am hearing her, but cannot listen.The Seeker turns and runs. He runs until he's out of my sight. Whatever she did, worked.And then she herself turns, and I am able to see her clearly for the first time. She's beautiful.She's beautiful, and graceful, and wonderful. I can't explain it, but when I saw her, every weight dropped from my shoulders. Her sole image was comforting and welcoming. I'm about to call out to her.But then she's gone, just like that. --- A path will supposedly disappear if you step off it, once you stop looking at it. It will shift and never come back.But I was still looking.And I knew it was the right path.I ran. I hit the path and kept running.I ran from the Ghoul of the Forest. I ran from the society that had rejected the poor and maimed orphan that I had been so many years ago. I ran from the nameless slave I had been. I ran from the scar that marked my face, denoting me as property only. I ran from the ghosts of all those I knew that were lost in this cursed forest. I ran along he only path that could somehow lead to my freedom.But then I saw her.I had taken the right path. And now she was there to take me way.She spoke only one word. A name.A name I'd never heard, but knew to be mine.It was all it took.I stepped off the path, knowing that I would never see it again. Knowing I would never see paradise.She turned away.I followed. Procrastinating writing this down was probably a bad choice?
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