Dinosaurs ( #AtoZChallenge )

(Artist Gray Morrow, December 1964 issue of If)

Science fiction is big on dinosaurs. Have you ever noticed that? We don't go back in time to imagine how they lived and breathed; no, we hoist them into the future, reworking universes to observe our fascination of these intriguing giants of yesteryear.

Jurassic Park is the most well-known today but they also feature prominently in The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle, in works by Jules Verne and Ray Bradbury, and on. The stories vary from dinosaurs who have survived in the depths of untamed lands to alien creatures who share similarities. The science fiction magazine featured above made them into robots! (See the man working on the triceratops?)

This post was, obviously, inspired by my two-year-old who, like all young children, is obsessed with these colossal creatures and fills the house with his "T-wex" roars.

Classic question time: which dinosaur is your favorite (bonus points for your favorite dinosaur story)?

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This is a post for the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge, one post (and letter) for each day in April. I hope to see you tomorrow for the letter E!

I is for Icarus [A to Z Challenge 2015]

Another Friday means another flash fiction piece for Flash! Friday. I'm tired and out of sorts today but I just couldn't leave it alone after coming so close last week. It's a like a drug, I tell you. You can  read the actual entry here.

Enjoy and come back tomorrow for the letter 'J' and all the pretties that I am pairing with it....

Icarus

by Jessica Marcarelli

I kneel in the slime left by a thousand rain cycles and hold out my cup. Acid from the atmospheric vents overhead drips over the porcelain rim.

A man stumbles by, his skin blistered like all the other sufferers here. Rumor has it the disease rose from terraforming imbalances as the first miners arrived.

It’s called the Icarus Syndrome, taken from some Lost Earth myth. Named for the hubris of those who can’t leave well enough alone. They sent me. Government officials who can’t let go of a trillion pounds of whatever passes for coin these days out in the ‘verse. I was sent to spy out the ore that will power a thousand worldships.

Except the miners never found it.

And I’m not interested. My hope is in the ship legend told me was buried here. Solar wings on a battered hull. An engine fueled by the same acid falling into my cup. Soon, I’ll sail close enough to the bloated monstrosity of a star this system calls a sun to collect the energy the ship needs to make that one jump all the way back to the ancient world where humanity took its first wide-eyed steps into the void.

This vessel is my ticket home.

Flash! Friday Fiction: Mystic

My writing has lagged in the intervening months since I last wrote. My familiar companions of fear and poor self-worth returned, as I think they must with many artists, and I turned away from creating. While it wasn't the right path to take in the first place (and I really must find a different way of dealing with those old enemies of mine), I found my way out once more.

Flash! Friday prompted me to stretch those atrophied writing muscles once more with the beautiful artwork below.  This isn't my best work or even my favorite (it's not even within the word limit guidelines of the contest). But it is a reminder that not every creation has to be perfect. That's why I'm posting it here today.

Maybe you're also struggling with self-worth or fear of imperfection. I hope it helps you, too, realize that there are far worse things than others seeing a side of us that isn't perfectly groomed and polished. It's okay to be imperfect.

Jeanne d’Arc, 1876. Painting by Eugène Thirion. Public Domain.

Mystic

by Jessica Marcarelli


Françoise clenched the prayer beads close to her lips. “The angels. I hear them, Maman.”

Her mother took one of her hands. “What do they say, child?”

Françoise’s eyes widened as she beheld a gleaming sword held beneath outstretched wings, glowing pink in a myriad of colours too vibrant to describe. “They praise the majesties of le Créateur de l'Univers. They sing of glory and…” her brow furrowed. “And they sing of an army’s march. Now. Tonight.”

The Knight of the Holy Chalice who had come to their cottage on the edge of the Wilds stepped towards her. “But it is an eclipse, mademoiselle. The dead walk this night. My men will be slain by the thousands.”

Françoise turned her eyes from the wondrous scene to the blackness she faced every day. “If you do not go, our worlds will die at the hands of the invader host.”

The knight exhaled. The sound carried with it all the weight of the planets his order protected. “As He wills it. Thank you, mademoiselle. Madame.” His footsteps went to the door and she could hear his voice echoing outside. “The mystic has seen death at Planète Achille."

"We leave at once, milord?" another man asked.

"Yes. And may le Créateur rest those souls who see eternity this night.”

Her mother touched her forehead, her own fingers trembling. “You should rest, my love.”

Françoise faced the visions once more and rubbed her beads. “Not yet. They still need what He may give me. I will keep vigil as they wage war for us."


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Have you participated in Flash! Friday?  Leave a link to your story or blog in the comments - I'd love to check it out.

Flash! Friday Fiction: Obedience

After planning to do so for months, I finally took the time to participate in Flash! Friday.

For those not in the know, Flash! Friday involves a 160-word max story prompted by a picture and sometimes a phrase, word, or idea that can be included for bonus points. You write/turn in the story on Friday and find out what came of it on Monday. Winning gets you attention, an interview, and more attention.

I didn't win, didn't even get an honorable mention, but it was fun to stretch those muscles. I'm glad I did it. Might even do it again. (If you want to join me, check it all out here.)

I've posted my story below, along with the picture prompt, just for the fun of it. Enjoy!

Obedience

 by Jessica Marcarelli


“Give him to me, Siri.”

Siri handed the little boy down to his mother, who stood on the lower lip of the tiered dock.

The man beside Siri handed her a gas mask. “Remember: only when the poison becomes airborne.”

“Yes, master.”

“Don’t follow us. Wait here.”

“Yes, master.”

She held an umbrella over his head as he shimmied down the rope to join his family. All three disappeared into the underground waterway.

A siren sounded. Siri looked out over the village. Silent packages dropped from approaching airships. Houses ignited and a green mist rose with the smoke.

The robotic maid jerked as her legs attempted to move. If she remained, the poison would eat away her synthetic skin, fuse her processors, and she would cease to exist.

But her master had told her to stay. Her preservation protocols could not override her obedience chip.

Siri strapped on the gas mask, raised the umbrella, and watched the approaching green mist.

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Did you participate in Flash! Friday this week? Leave a link to your story in the comments - I'd love to check it out.

Beyond the Binding Cover Reveal

As many of you may remember, back in December, I wrote about a wonderful project to raised funds for the Philippines relief effort, Composers for Relief, and my involvement in a fiction companion collection in which one of my stories would be included. I am very happy to announce that Samantha Redstreake Geary has revealed today the cover for that companion collection, "Beyond the Binding."

Isn't it beautiful? A total of 29 authors collaborated in this short story collection where music met fiction in a breathtaking explosion of imagination. The eBook will shortly be available from Amazon, Amazon UK, iTunes, B&N, Kobo, Sony, Diesel, and Smashwords. I will post links as soon as they're live.

As a reminder, all proceeds of the Composers for Relief album and the Beyond the Binding companion collection will go to Gawad Kalinga and GVSP, to continue to support the relief efforts for victims of Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan).

Please consider spreading the word on this amazing project. You can also add your support to this cause by purchasing Composers for Relief: Supporting the Philippines from ITunes , Amazon CDBaby and Spotify.

Composers for Relief: God is With You

On November 8, 2013, Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) struck the Phillipines, taking the lives of over 6,000 adults and countless children. Over 16 million people have ultimately been affected by this destructive force of nature.

Fueled by a desire to help the victims of this disaster, 30 composers and 28 writers from around the world have come together to collaborate on an inspirational album and a companion ebook of fictional stories to raise funds for relief efforts. All profits will go entirely to Gawad Kalinga ("give care") to rebuild these many devastated lives.

Please visit Composers for Relief: Supporting the Phillipines by Samatha Redstreak Geary for more information on both sides of this project, links to the songs and stories, and the ways in which you can get involved, as well.

The following is my contribution, a short story written to the inspiration of Hendric Bünck and Pascale Scarabin's "God is With You" and entitled the same.  I would like to thank Hendric and Pascale for such an uplifting, otherwordly composition of beauty and to Sam for allowing me the opportunity to be involved!

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God is With You

Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Marcarelli

 “God is with you,” Grandmother used to say.

I can still hear the rasp in her deep voice echoing through the decades to where I stand, alone and forgotten, on a desolate rock in the center of the universe. 

The last day that the old woman who was not really my grandmother whispered that phrase to me was a cold one. I remember still being young enough to warrant an outfit with sewn-in booties and gloves. My nose had lost feeling, even within the safe confines of the underground compound. All of our elderly caretakers noted that the surface winds of our world had not penetrated so deeply even in their own childhoods.

Grandmother pulled me close that evening. “Can’t have our youth freezing to death,” she said, tucking me into her thin frame. I rubbed my nose on her scratchy sweater to warm my skin. I must have been very young. That’s when she spoke close to my ear, barely above a whisper : “God is with you.”

I did not ask her who God was. Many of my playmates would have; some had, in fact, done so. Their grandmothers were no longer with them. I instinctively understood his importance as surely as I knew that we children weren’t supposed to know. It was a lovely secret for Grandmother and I alone.

It was also the last time I would share it with her.

The next day, she was gone. I did not cry. If we cried when they took our caretakers, we disappeared, too. But every evening I repeated her words in my head as I fell asleep.

I can still feel the scratch of her sweater, even here amongst the brilliant stars and lifeless earth of my imprisonment. But a spirit enslaved does not dwell long on one memory. The stark recollection of that coarse material pulls me forward to the vivid chaos of my first battle.

That day, I woke to my bunk mate's hand on my shoulder. “They've sounded the call – the enemy is on our position,” he said. No nervousness invaded his tone for he was a veteran already, being three months older than I. My hands shook when he handed me my rifle. We donned our breath masks and sealed our armor-reinforced hoods so that the gaseous air outside would not poison us.

I don't recall much of the battle. The yellow mists of chemical-laden air obscured all but the cloudy shapes of the enemy. I fired again and again and, sometimes, a shape collapsed. The crystallized stone beneath our feet became slick with blood but still we were ordered forward. I must have taken a wrong turn at some point, become separated from my squad in that sickly haze, since my next sharp memory of that day begins when I realized I was alone.

I stopped walking. My hood's speakers were quiet, too. Either my equipment was broken or the army had moved out of range. After some minutes of indecision, I trudged back the way I thought I had come. It felt like hours but might have been much shorter. The sun on that world never sets and, always, the yellow mists cling to the earth.

I found the army when something crunched underfoot: the arm of one of my comrades. He lay dead, his hood punctured, the skin beneath eaten away by the gases. Other bodies slumped around me in various forms of rigor mortis.

Someone behind me yelled and another man's weight dragged me to the ground. I tossed him off and glimpsed his features through his faceplate. My bunk mate.

“Enemy,” he wheezed.

I scrambled to my feet. A shape charged out of the mists with a dagger in hand. I squeezed my trigger without aiming and missed. The man lunged for me but my bunk mate grabbed his ankles. They wrestled and the dagger disappeared. With careful aim, I shot the invader in the back. Both men went still. I found the dagger buried in my friend's belly. Already, the skin around his wound yellowed. Tears filled my eyes.

He reached for me. “Don't lose hope, brother. God is still beside you.”

As with my grandmother, I silently repeated his words every night. Others voiced the sentiment in later years: a young woman as she quieted her forbidden baby, a fellow operative in the intelligence network that undermined the enemy, and the man condemned with me when we were discovered.

The death cry of a soldier cuts my memories short. My mind flows through the circuits and pathways of the machine that holds my body captive and launches across the stars to an old planet, small and unstable in its orbit. On a battlefield in the middle of a vast desert lies a man without legs. I manifest as a holographic reflection of myself and his fear-filled gaze centers on me. His bloodied hands grip an iron crucifix.

I move my incorporeal hands over his. “You have nothing to fear. God is with you.”

He focuses on the crucifix. Slowly, he raises it to his lips, kisses it, then clasps it to his heart as the light fades from his eyes. Other soldiers lay wounded or dying and I go to them, as well.

“God is with you.”

A mere handful once whispered it to me; now, I share it with thousands. Here, in the prison from which there is no return, with my body frozen in the rigid steel that keeps it alive, my mind reaches out to those most in need of hope and comfort. To the oppressed, the wounded and imprisoned, to the child without parents and the soldier seeking courage, I bring the comfort of my youth, the hope of my adult years, and the joy of my future: “God is with you.”

I am condemned by our enemies to an eternity of imprisoned immortality for my past efforts against them. What they do not yet realize is that, through me, they have given new life to all who hear my words echo through the wide universe.

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If you enjoyed this story, please help spread the word about this amazing project by sharing with one of the two buttons below or through your own preferred network. Thank you!



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#atozchallenge: [F]irefly

"...we get a mechanic, get her up and runnin' again, hire a good pilot, maybe a cook. Live like real people. Small crew, them as feel the need to be free, take jobs as they come. Ain't never have to be under the heel of nobody ever again. No matter how long the arm of the Alliance might get, we'll just get ourselves a little further." - Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity (pilot)

For those not aware of this spectacular show, Firefly is a space western that takes place in the year 2517 and follows the adventures of the nine members of the crew of the Serenity, a Firefly-class spaceship. Malcolm Reynolds, a veteran on the losing side of a galactic civil war, makes a living for himself and his crew on the outskirts of society as he attempts to continue to stay free of the heavy-handed Alliance control.

The reason you might not have heard of it is that only a couple of episodes aired completely out of order....10 years ago. It's hard to believe it's been that long already. Basically, the network that produced the show tried to kill it as soon as it started. It would have succeeded, too, if Firefly hadn't gained such a cult following among its intensely loyal supporters after the fact.

I'm not a big TV show viewer. I hate most of what's out there and lose interest very quickly in those shows I do take a liking to. Firefly is one of my top favorite shows and has been from the start of the first episode. There is a realness to the characters, along with fantastic plots and a hugely interesting universe to back them up. Everything about each episode is rich and full and well thought-out. It's the genius of Whedon's work (and I'm not exactly a Joss Whedon fan). In a word, Firefly is appealing.

After all, how can you resist a show that inspires this:

The entire first season can be watched on DVD as can its follow-up sequel movie, Serenity, but it's such a shame that there is only one season to be had. I've watched it several times over and, every time I get to the end of the last episode, I heave a disappointed sigh, wish that the network had also been aware of the show's genius, and put in the first episode again. It's that good.

If you haven't seen it, try it. If you have, sound off in the comments - I want some Firefly love in here tonight!


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#atozchallenge: [B]reathe

 
Today is Tuesday, fellow Challengers, which means I have some of my own fiction to present to you. This is an excerpt from a short story that I started a year ago but for which I've only recently come up with an ending.

 Thoughts, comments, critiques, etc., are welcomed. If you have some of your own fiction to show off, provide a link in your comment! And, last, if you like this sneak peek, please feel free to share it.

Breathe

Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Marcarelli and Visions of Other Worlds

Cady Hanson’s insomnia didn’t bother her until 10 o’clock Tuesday morning when her family forced her to take them to breakfast.

“Jennifer Nelson promoted herself today,” Gerald said. Cady flicked her eyes towards him. Her husband had been striking once, the cream of the crop. Ten years of marriage and climbing the corporate ladder had turned his black hair to grey and his big, tanned muscles to thin and hairy flesh. He smiled at their eight-year-old son, sitting on the other side of the booth. “Guess you won’t be getting that four-wheeler next month after all.”

Adam grinned. “Yes, I will. You’ll get promoted because Jennifer is an incompetent ass who can’t last a month.”

Cady tucked her mouth in at one corner. “Adam.”

“Dad said it first.”

Emilie frowned at him. “It does not mean you have to say it second.”

Cady looked at her daughter. She looked so much like her. Emilie even acted like her, right down to the frown she constantly wore. No ten-year-old should look so serious. It was like Emilie knew what had happened when she was conceived, knew the anger Cady felt at the small thing growing in her womb.

Gerald leaned forward. “He has every right to speak his feelings, as you do, Emilie.”

“He should not say things like that. We are children.” Emilie’s too-adult reprimand had no effect.

The conversation continued around her but Cady stayed glued to the thought that her ten-year-old daughter knew more about her mother’s feelings than she did herself. It wasn't the only feature Emilie had that she shouldn't. Just how much had Cady ruined by signing that birthing form ten years ago?

She rested her chin on her palm. The pressure on her hand helped relieve the burning heat in her head. Sometimes she couldn’t think through the pain. That was usually at night, when she sat in the dark on the back porch, watching the waves ripple along the shore. Even that gentle sensation couldn’t make her sleep. But she never felt tired. Every night she watched the stars until the sun came up, then she went inside and took her morning shower. Gerald, a sound sleeper, thought she was simply an early riser. She hadn't visited a bed in weeks. She even kept count. Tonight would be sleepless night 103.

“Cady?”

She jumped and stared at Gerald.

He held out a carafe. “The waitress left it. Do you want me to top off your mug?”

“No.” She hadn’t had any to start. “I’m full.”

He eyed the bite she had taken out of the waffle on her plate. “You sure?”

“Yes.” She slid out of the booth. “I’m going now.”

Gerald grinned at the kids. “You get me today. What should we do first?”

Anything, Cady thought, as long as you let me go. She couldn’t breathe in the stale, recycled air breathed by a hundred people in the crowded restaurant. All she wanted was to get alone, by herself, with the waves. Where she could breathe.



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How to Find & Develop Ideas for Fantasy & Science Fiction

Image: stock.xchng

Most writers have lacked good ideas at least once in their careers. If you've been out of ideas for awhile, it's even worse. It also doesn't help when the fantasy and science fiction world is inundated with copycats and stories that sound like many others. But a "lack of ideas" isn't permanent and shouldn't be. You can control whether you have decent story ideas or not.

Here's the secret: to get a good story idea, you have to come up with a lot of bad ones. You do that by writing, continuously, even if you think it's no good. In the midst of the so-so ideas, you will find something worth working with.

I used to be terrible at running. In fact, I hated it. Every time I tried to run, I ended up gasping and wheezing while trying to massage the cramps out of my legs. But my husband encouraged me to keep trying. "Just two more minutes," he'd say during our workouts. "Two more minutes and you can slow to a walk." Every day, I ran two, torturous minutes longer than the last day until, one day, I ran and...kind of enjoyed it. Or at least didn't die after it. It had taken hours upon hours of painful mistakes to get to that point, sure. But, if I hadn't started, I would still be wheezing after the first two minutes.

The same is true for writing. It might not look or feel pretty when you spew random ideas on paper (and, yes, they probably won't even be all that original at first) but that's exactly where you will find the gems that you'll want to keep.

So, in reality, this isn't just about ideas. It's about discipline. We have to write if we want to move forward. Even when we don't feel like it. Once you've dedicated yourself to that, the good ideas will come.

Practice

Take some time today and write down your answers to the following questions:

    What is the coolest gadget that you can imagine? (Or, alternatively, what is the coolest places that doesn't exist that you can imagine?)
    Now, what is the scariest or most unusual way you could kill one of your characters?
    List 20 ways to kill one of your characters with that gadget (or kill them in that place) that you just thought up.

It doesn't have to be death and destruction if that isn't your thing. It can be 20 ways to save the princess of your fantasy world or 20 ways to make contact with an alien species. Use your imagination! The point here is that you want to get your mind moving.

Can you think of other questions? I'd love to hear them! 

Where In the Galaxy Do Story Ideas Come From?

Every writer has been asked this. There might be variations (such as the oldie but goodie: where do you get your ideas?) but both writers and readers have all heard or asked it. 

  The Answer

 Everywhere and anywhere.

Writers are people, too, and we walk by the same neighbors, drive the same cars, and have the same hobbies everyone else does. Ideas abound in every moment in our lives. Anything, at any time, could trigger that mysterious being called the muse.

For me, it's little things. The way a character tilted her head in my favorite T.V. show. A snippet of conversation. Music. A sentence in the book I'm reading. The wind in the trees. A child's laughter. Deep water at night. Even dreams.

The possibilities are endless, literally. They're also different for every writer.

 What About You?

If you're a new writer, you might be worried about getting ideas. Don't be. You wanted to write for a reason, probably because you already had an idea in your head. Where did you get it? You might have just experienced a fabulous concert. Maybe you noticed something new on your way to work. Or perhaps the bite mark in your sandwich looked just like a spaceship.

Whatever it was, it wouldn't leave you alone. You had to write it down. Then characters arrived and a setting and you started imagining what would come of it.

That's where the ideas come from: from keeping your eyes and ears open and absorbing the world around you. What are your interests? Your favorite books? Do you remember your dreams? Is there something you've always wanted to do or see but never have?

These all hold true even when dealing with science fiction and fantasy. It doesn't have to be all scientific or fantastic to start out – that's your imagination's job. Your job is to keep looking.

Most importantly, look for ideas where you least expect them. Those ideas can be the best of all.

How To Get Ideas In A Nutshell

• Read! And read some more.
• Collect and hoard ideas like a dragon.
• Look for the unexpected.
• Write about your interests, hobbies, and dreams.
• Write about what you'd like to learn.

 Where do you get your ideas? Sound off in the comments or Tweet for idea-starting fun!

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A to Z Challenge: Z is for Zozzled

Zozzled?  You just made that up.

Did not. It's slang for drunk. Which is how I feel right now: emotionally drunk on the success of getting through an entire month of daily blogging and mentally drunk on the relief that I don't have to do it again for a whole year.

Well...it's still a made-up word.

Know what else is made up? The last flash fiction story of April! My muse finally showed its face and I am pleased as punch with the results. I hope you will be, too. Scroll down for a look-see. (And, if you missed them, here are parts 1-3: Catagenesis, Isotope, Osmosis.)

Thank you all for visiting my blog this month!  I've enjoyed getting to meet each and every one of you. I'll still be trolling through the A to Z list for anyone I missed. Feel free to leave me your blog address if you'd like to be visited sooner rather than later.

Also, a HUGE welcome to all my new followers!  You all are amazing.  When not doing crazy things like A to Z, I blog Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  You can find the schedule for what happens when on the right sidebar.

And, now, without further ado, the last flash fiction. Until next year, A to Z-ers!

[EDIT: Unigenous has been taken down, along with its flash siblings, for consideration in a print magazine. Thank you so much to those of you who read it and left such wonderful comments!]

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A to Z Challenge: V is for Vessels

Sometimes, science fiction writers just get it all kinds of right when they design their spaceships. Whether you're just a fan or a writer looking for inspiration, the following are, by far, the most awesome space-faring vessels ever imagined.


The 5 Coolest Science Fiction Vessels of All Time
(in my humble - and ultimately right - opinion)


The Millennium Falcon - Star Wars

You can't deny it.  The Falcon is simply the coolest, most coveted spaceship in sci-fi lore (and has nothing whatsoever to do with her good-lookin', smooth-talkin', scoundrel of a captain). This smuggling freighter turned fighter took out a couple Death Stars, saved a princess, and made the Kessel Run in 12-parsecs. When her hyperdrive actually works, she's any captain's dream.


Serenity - Firefly

 I had to list the Falcon first because I'm a diehard fan and intensely loyal to Han.  However, Serenity and her equally good-lookin' Malcolm Reynolds would give them a run for their money (and my loyalty). With her ragtag crew, smuggling compartments, and Captain Tight-Pants, Serenity is home, the last refuge in a quickly-shrinking 'verse.


The TARDIS - Doctor Who

The TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimensions In Space) has whisked its lovably roguish Timelord from one end of the universe to the other, in every imaginable time, through myriad adventures, and with many a passenger.  But don't let this Police Box fool you - it's bigger on the inside and capable of folding both time and space.


USS Enterprise - Star Trek

Okay, we all know this one and I'm sure I'll be lambasted for putting it so far down the list. (But look what went on top!) One of the most well known ships in the history of science fiction, the USS Enterprise, has encountered hundreds of alien species, traveled back in time, defeated Romulans and Klingons alike, been blown up and decommissioned several times, and still continues to go where no man has gone before.


The White Star - Babylon 5

Now, Minbari ships are not for everyone but I have to admit to a soft spot to this little sweetheart of a ship.  The White Star was a collaborative effort between the Minbari religious caste and the Vorlon Empire as a potent offense against the Shadows. One of the smallest ships that can open its own hyperspace portal, it's small size hides it deadly efficiency.



Anything I missed?  Got any favorites of your own to share?  Let me know in the comments!


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A to Z Challenge: O is for Osmosis

Many apologies for the delay in getting this post out - a water pipe burst in our apartment complex yesterday, leaving us with no water (and thus no toilet usage! gah!) until this morning. As you can imagine, this scenario promptly made me forget that anything called a "blog" even existed.

So...double goodies for everyone today! I'll post Tuesday's regular flash fiction now, give you all some time to enjoy it, then post today's real post this afternoon (hint: it has to do with maps and treasure).

Enjoy!

[EDIT: Osmosis has been taken down, along with its flash siblings, for consideration in a print magazine. Thank you so much to those of you who read it and left such wonderful comments!]






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A to Z Challenge: M is for Midborn

I guess M stumped everyone this week. I have no room to talk - once I realized I'd have to come up with something on my own, I dragged my feet...and you can see I'm barely getting it in on time to count for today.

(Apologies for that and for not being very active this week - I've had a lot of other things on my mind.)

But all's well that ends well and since my ego's not big enough to brag on myself and implore you to read my blog, enjoy today's flash fiction. ;)

Midborn
Copyright © 2012 by Jessica Marcarelli and Visions of Other Worlds

“Think she’ll remember me?” Gace asked.

Lyn looked up from his holo-pad, where a three-dimensional game hovered. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Gace shrugged. “She was two when I left.”

“But you’ve sent holo-pictures.”

“Yes.”

“She'll remember.” Lyn went back to his game.

Gace frowned at the porthole. He was just paranoid. Of course Yarit would remember him. He was the only family she had left.

Of course, if he and Yarit hadn’t been separated, this wouldn’t be a problem. The last day he had seen her was still emblazoned in his mind. They had been playing under the big oak outside the family home. It was summer and too hot to play so they were looking at clouds instead. Yarit was almost asleep, her head pillowed in a bed of yellow pansies.

Gace saw the transport first. He stood and covered his eyes with one hand.

“Gace!”

He looked to see his mother running towards him. He pointed at the approaching silver tube. “Look!”

“I know.” She gathered Yarit into her arms. “Come quickly.”

He trotted after her, keeping his eyes on the transport. “Are they coming here?”

“Yes.”
“Why?”

“Because they must.”

“Why, Mother?”

“Gace, do not ask questions!” Her tone was short, strained. Even at six, Gace could hear it. It worried him. His mother had never talked to him like that.

They went inside, where his mother cleaned he and Yarit and dressed them in their best clothes. She cried, wiped the tears away, and told Gace to go the front room. He did. His father was talking with two uniformed men.

“Gace, this is Captain Bennett and Lieutenant Jackson,” his father said.

Gace saluted the way he had been taught. “You’re real soldiers?”

Captain Bennett smiled. “We are.”

Gace grinned at his father. He did not smile back. “What’s wrong, Father?”

His father knelt. “You and Yarit are going to go with these men, son.”

“Why?”

His mother walked in with Yarit, her eyes red.

“The Marauders have attacked again. You’ll be safer in space.”

Gace frowned. “What about you?”

“We have to fight them. When we’re done, we’ll send for you and your sister. Do you understand?”

Gace nodded but he didn’t. Not really. Why should they have to go with strange men? Couldn’t the captain fight the aliens? He kept his mouth shut and tried hard not to ask. His mother didn’t want him asking.

His father hugged him. “I love you.”

The hugging was too tight. It hurt and Gace wiggled away from it. “I love you, too, Father.”

His mother kissed him then handed his sister to the lieutenant. Gace thought she held on to Yarit too long. Then the captain took his hand and they were walking to the transport. His father held his mother. She was crying again, and shaking.

Gace had not seen his parents since that day. He and Yarit had been separated as soon as the transport docked with its ship. Yarit was too young to go with him, the captain said. She couldn't learn to fight the Marauders yet. But he could. He was midborn and old enough to be admitted to the training.

Gace swallowed. It had been seven years since he and his sister had been taken from one another. Next week, he would graduate from midborn to warrior. Then he would fight Marauders. But not before he finished his training on Yarit's academy vessel.

"But what if she doesn't remember me?" Gace whispered to the stars. They didn't answer.

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Next Saturday is the letter S. Give me good ideas anytime this week and up until 11:59 PM on Friday! Rules are HERE.

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A to Z Challenge: I is for Isotope

As promised, today's story is the second of four, started last Tuesday with Catagenesis (if you missed it, read it HERE).

I hope you enjoy it!

[EDIT: Isotope has been taken down, along with its flash siblings, for consideration in a print magazine. Thank you so much to those of you who read it and left such wonderful comments!]






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A to Z Challenge: H is for the History of Science Fiction

Science fiction is amazing. From aliens to spaceships to other worlds to imaginative technologies, it has pulled many people into its wide fold. But where did it get its start?

The history of the science fiction genre as a literary form isn't easily defined. Both scholars and fans still argue on when it made its first appearance.

Many die-hard fans place the genre's origins with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, since it was the first novel of its kind. Some point to ancient texts, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh (earliest version: around 2150-2000 B.C.), as the first instance of science fiction. Others refute this, saying that science fiction could only be possible from the Scientific Revolution onward. This would have been when Galileo and Newton were making their discoveries in astronomy, physics, and mathematics - the building blocks of science fiction.

To add further fuel to the fire of discussion, the word "scientist" only first appeared in 1840. The first use of "science fiction" soon followed in 1851 in William Wilson's A Little Earnest Book upon a Great Old Subject. Quoted from the book, he says: "Science-Fiction, in which the revealed truths of Science may be given interwoven with a pleasing story which may itself be poetical and true."

Science fiction boomed in the 20th century, as new inventions and science led authors to explore the impact of those things on society. This has caused some to suggest that "real" science fiction only came into being with Jules Verne and H.G. Wells and others of their ilk.

The point is, there's little to no agreement on the exact origin of science fiction history. We don't know. And there's a lot of brain power being expended trying to figure it out.

I guess the real question to ask is: when do you think it started?

Or you could just watch this cool video on the genre. It requires no brain power.





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A to Z Challenge: C is for Catagenesis

Welcome back, everyone, to the third day of the A to Z Challenge! If you're feeling a little under the weather already with the challenge, take a look at this great post and be encouraged.

Today is the first of the 12 flash fiction stories I'll be writing during April. I'm really excited to share this particular universe with you all.

Reminder: be sure to get those brains whirling with ideas for Saturday's reader-inspired story! (Take a look at the rules HERE if you're not sure what I'm talking about.) I'll be putting up the last-minute reminder on Friday but you can leave ideas any time before that, in the comments or in a private message. Winner gets a nice word from me and a link to their blog front and center on Saturday's post.

Now, without further ado, let the fiction commence!

[EDIT: Unigenous has been taken down, along with its flash siblings, for consideration in a print magazine. Thank you so much to those of you who read it and left such wonderful comments!]






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A to Z Challenge: B is for Books

B is for Books

Nothing beats a good book underneath a warm blanket on a grey, blistery day. Or maybe that's just me and the fact that those kinds of settings tickle my muse.

Whatever your favorite reading setting is, you probably have a list of favorites to go with it. Mine changes slightly as I read new books, delve into old ones, and continue to develop my own reading - and, by extension, writing - style.

Today, I chose my top six faves from my science fiction and fantasy must-read list. These are the books I would - and have! - read again and again.

Fantasy

1. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

The king of all fantasy, admired by thousands and emulated by thousands more. Originally written as one huge book, Tolkien was told that no one would ever buy a book that large and had to split it into three parts. If you've never read it, do so. I can't begin to cover the depth and layers that this man went into to create Middle-earth.






2. Peter Pan and Wendy by J.M. Barrie

My favorite children's book of all time. Once again, this book is more than it seems at face value. It's not just a child's playtime - it's about the innocence of imagination and the sadness that comes from the fact that humanity only truly experiences it when we are children. Poignant and beautiful.






3. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

Unlike The Lord of the Rings, this was not published as one book, but as seven. So, technically, I'm cheating. Whatever. C.S. Lewis himself said that this was an allegorical series but, again, I think he covers so much more than that. He had a keen insight into the mind of man which comes out even through his children's stories.






Science Fiction


1. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

I've tried to move on from this book. I've done my best to put more classical choices in this top spot. I can't. From the moment I first read it, Ender's Game has held my imagination hostage. OSC says that he has found that his readers either love it or hate it. There are few in-betweens. I'll leave it to you to decide which one you are.





2. A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle

Amazing children's book and an amazing woman behind it. I can't get enough of Madeleine L'Engle. She had so many keen insights and such an intelligence about her. This is another children's story that isn't just for children.








3. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

There were many choices I could have put here. In fact, the runner-up for this position was Firebird by Kathy Tyers (amazing, by the way). But, in the end, I had to admit that "thanks for all the fish" will always haul me back to it, laughing as I go. And that is priceless.







What are your favorite science fiction and/or fantasy books?
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Tomorrow is the first day of my 12 flash fiction posts! Stop on by to see what awesome universe I've prepared for you all!
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A To Z Challenge: A is for Aliens

Welcome to the first day of the A to Z Challenge! As I said in this post, throughout April I will be blogging 14 writing topics and 12 flash fiction stories. Today is the first day of April's writing topic theme: The Concepts, Ins and Outs, Building Blocks, and All Around Cool Stuff of Science Fiction and Fantasy.

And what better way to start out than with aliens?

A is for Aliens

Aliens come in all shapes and sizes.

For the longest time, they were little grey humanoids with big bug-eyes who, apparently, had no concept of the need for clothing. Then we graduated to spidery-shaped things, bulbous-headed monsters, creepy octopus land animal things, and humanoids with green skin who can't get enough of starship captains.

And, seriously, aliens have to be one of the best parts of experiencing science fiction. Or so these guys would have you believe:



But forming them for your story is not always as cut and dried as it may seem. Putting a weird head on an otherwise humanoid body is, well...not always realistic. (I'm looking at you, George Lucas.)

You have to make your aliens truly alien. Even if they are humanoid for some good reason, chances are that they don't dress in similar clothing, have the same entertainment, or get the same pleasure out of a really sweet car as we do.

Why?

Because they're not human. Realistically, an alien race probably wouldn't think, process, or be anything like us.

Imagine if a cat suddenly spoke our language. We might attach human personalities to them all day long ('cause it's cute to think of them as tiny humanoid people with tiny human-like concerns) but I'll bet you anything that an explanation of the world from that cat's mouth would be entirely foreign to us.
As a writer, it's your job to make your aliens foreign to humanity. To do that, you have to be willing to really dig in and build their world around them. Do they see colors? How do they eat? Are they animalistic in nature? Do they even think thoughts?
Remember, though, that it won't be your aliens that will read your story but humans. So, the Catch 22 here is that as alien as you make your aliens, in the end they still have to be...well, human.

What is your favorite alien or alien concept? Why?

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Don't Panic: Science Fiction or Fantasy - What's the Diff?

What's the difference, you say? Isn't it obvious? In fantasy, you cast a "slow time" spell to get to work before the boss notices you're late. In science fiction, you're never late because you can just beam yourself into the office.

Simple, right?

Only if you want your limbs torn from your body by raving fan-mobs of either genre. You see, there's not one hard rule that determines if a story is science fiction or fantasy. Plenty of SF books incorporate magical properties. There are some fantasy books that take place in "the future." And then there are the gazillion crossover genres that don't really know what they are.


The Short Answer


If you want to have a theological discourse on the subject, there are plenty of books for that. I, however, like short answers.

Here goes: that Rod Serling quote up there? He's right on.

Fantasy, with its magic, wizards, fairies, trolls, is impossible according to our world. But in a well-written story, these things become perfectly conceivable.

Science fiction - spaceships, galactic travel, aliens, ray guns - doesn't seem all that likely, especially given our floundering space programs. But a master storyteller makes it all possible in one well-created battle.

Basically, what I'm saying is that the only concepts that separate fantasy from science fiction are impossibility versus improbability.


So...What's the Difference?


Yeah, I know, that still wasn't simple.

Try this on for size: your mom says, "Don't jump off the roof." Why? Probably because you'll land in a bone-crushing pile of pain and agony.

The probability of coming out completely unscathed because you're some sort of never-seen-before super-human is pretty slim. But maybe you are a super-human and that's just what happens. You're a science fiction hero!

But let's take it further. You think you can jump off the roof and not go anywhere. Maybe float in mid-air or even go up instead of down. Science tells us this is impossible. Not going to happen...like, ever. You do it, anyway, because you know about the genie in your back pocket who granted your wish not to die five minutes ago. Lo and behold, you're floating in midair in a fantasy dream.


Call It Whatever You Want


In the end, you can call your story whatever you want. Science fiction, fantasy, scifan fiction - you may just create a new genre in the process. It's happened before and will probably keep happening.

But you have to sell it. You need a solid, compelling reason for it to be what you say it is. Otherwise, the rabid fans will still maul you for ruining their orderly worlds.

On top of that, if you plan to sell your story, a publisher is likely to slap their own label on it no matter what thrilling genre name you've come up with. It's a marketing thing, not to mention that publishers are kind of set in their ways. They love categories. It makes their world hum with happy thoughts.

My bottom line is that I think the definition is always changing. But I do think writers like Rod Serling have a unique insight into the two genres. Those insights -and his, in particular - won't change. Their core truth is always going to apply, in my opinion.


What do you think? What is the difference between SF & fantasy? Let me hear your thoughts in the comments below.

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