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Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
18% [17 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
5% [5 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
14% [14 Votes]

Norm One - (Redemption)
Norm One - (Redemption)
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Bek - (Shadow)
7% [7 Votes]

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19% [18 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
14% [14 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
5% [5 Votes]

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Deva - (Blake)
9% [9 Votes]

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September 2017 Fanfic Challenge
Joe Dredd
I can't claim a huge knowledge of his work, but my favourite song of his is "Everything is Ticketty-boo" from "Merry Andrew".
 
Travisina
Travisina wrote:
I love Danny Daye...

Oops, what a typo! (Hangs up editor's hat and slinks away...)
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Anniew
You didn't really think I'd hang up my pen, did you??

There once was a stone mason who worked for people he didn't particularly like. He was a skilled worker earning good money carving rocks into statues in praise of people who were not really praiseworthy but it was enough for him.

Then one day he was summoned to the house of a very rich man to carve a statue of his wife. She was very beautiful but she wasn't happy. The stone mason did a good job and was paid handsomely for it but afterwards he could not stop thinking about the beautiful woman he had shared intimate moments with during their sculpting sessions. He wished with all his heart to become rich enough to persuade her to leave the rich man and run away with him but he wasn't sure how to go about it.

Now Earth at this time was full of spiteful spirits and one of them overheard the man’s laments and mischievously suggested a way the he could achieve his goals. In no time, the man had enough money to live rich and safe with the woman he loved but before he could go to her, the spirit whispered into the ear of the rich man and told him what was going on. The rich man came looking for the stone mason with a sword but the stone mason heard him coming and killed him first. When he realised what he'd done, he knew he had to escape and he went to find the beautiful woman to ask her come with him but she was nowhere to be found.

Luck deserted the stone mason. Sick to the soul he did not now have the heart to run away and he was soon captured, beaten and banished to a prison Planet where he was to languish for the rest of his days. But the spirits had not finished with him yet. They still hung about and eavesdropped on his thoughts. One day they heard him sigh that the burden of life was too hard for him to carry and that he wished he could fly away and be free. So they sent a magical bird who picked up the stonemason and carried him up into the skies.

For many months the stone mason flew across the heavens on his magical bird in the company of others who like him had yearned to be free but the urge to find out what had happened to the woman he had loved was strong. One day he wished he could see her again and the spirits heard his wish and granted it. The stone mason found the woman alive, living a luxurious life with a man he despised. He realised that she had not been worthy of his regard but when he taxed her with her faithlessness, she laughed in his face and threatened to inform on him and during their argument he took her by the neck and killed her.

Then he wished for nothing more than to become like one of the stones he had spent his life carving, cold, unable to feel, hard. The spirits granted his wish. He still flew the skies but now he had become remote, removed, observing as others tried to carve him to their desires yet always finding their chisels and axes shattered against his impenetrable hardness. One by one they fell away from him until he was alone with nothing to distract him from his regrets

Oh how he wished now to be a simple stone mason again. And the spirits granted his wish.

Laboriously, he carved the names of those that had loved and tried to save him on the granite blackness he had become and when the work was finished, the spirits set him in a public place; a warning to any who like him had blindly wished and loved and lost and sought the freedom of the skies.
Edited by Anniew on 03 September 2017 11:22:29
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
littlesue
Anniew....beautiful
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Travisina
Anniew wrote:

You didn't really think I'd hang up my pen, did you??


Glad you didn't, that's a lovely story!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Hugbot
I was away for the weekend, and this is the kind of story that one thinks up during an endless train ride...

Falling

On the seventh day of his fall, Marquin began to wonder what was going on. It was impossible that the chasm was deep enough to allow such a long descent. Furthermore, he felt neither hunger or thirst nor any other physical needs. He just fell. Deeper and deeper, smoothly and silently.

Maybe I am dead, he thought. Maybe I am in hell and they torture me by this sensation of an unending fall.

Then an even stranger thought struck him. Cato had once told him a confusing story about a cat in a box who remained in a hybrid state of life and death as long as no-one opened the box to ascertain the cat’s real state. Marquin knew the council members and their pedantic decisions. As long as his body was not found, they would not rate him dead but missing. Maybe he was the cat in the box. Until he was officially declared dead or alive, he was caught in this limbo.

But somehow, this fall into a bottomless abyss was not so much different from life. In his daily struggles, he had often felt like being spit into an unfathomable ocean, drowning, sinking, diving down, never stopping, never ascending, never being able to hold onto something.

He closed his eyes. It wasn’t that bad. After all, he could still feel and think, and that was better than non-existence. He embraced the fall, curious about what might happen on this long journey, and plunged into infinity.
 
Anniew
Hugbot what a wonderful story!!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Rainesz
Cally Junior and little Zelda are back.

The Woman Who Fell From the Sky

The two identical little girls stared, incredulous.

"We heard that you were dead!" exclaimed Zelda, stunned by the tall, blonde apparition.

"And that you blew up your ship and an entire blockade squadron! KABOOM!" Cally Junior added gleefully.

"A lot of people thought I was dead," Captain ("Call me Jenna"Wink ) Stannis grinned. "I'm just as surprised as you are that I'm not—and also very happy about it."

They all listened to her story about activating her ship's self-destruct while heroically running the blockade, and how she then fell from the sky in an escape pod.

Burning, burning, burning, dropping into the atmosphere of the planet like a falling star, splashing finally into one of the seas of Gauda Prime. Jenna embellished the romance of this and not the desperate survival attempts that followed.

"So my pod became a boat for awhile," she told the girls. "And eventually I was rescued by a man named Deva, who had hair like fire. But that's an entirely different tale..."

It was still disconcerting for Jenna to see these two new child-versions of her lost friend and former crew mate, Cally. She had learned Cally was killed in an explosion on a distant, strange planet called Terminal, after the destruction of the Liberator. Though the little girls were both from Cally's gene stock, the two clones could not have been more different from one another. Zelda was the more careful and gentler of the two, and she seemed to have a head for science. The one Jenna called "Cally Junior" (little Cally accepted this moniker with pride) was reckless, hotheaded and courageous, a born freedom fighter.

It was as if the Cally that Jenna had known had been split into two separate entities.

"Tell us about Blake!" Cally Junior blurted out with an eager grin.

This was a touchy subject for her—as well as for the man standing in the shadows of a nearby tree.

Jenna was seated on a huge, bench-sized root of a towering Zircopa tree. It was in full autumn display, its combustible, fan-shaped leaves now scarlet as they floated down to the ground in harmless smolders. She cast a wary side-glance over at Avon, who was leaning with laconic disinterest against another nearby tree trunk. At the mention of Blake, he dipped his head and stared at the leaves on the ground, his face becoming like stone.

"Maybe later," Jenna told them. "There are so many stories about Blake that I wouldn't know where to start." And then she and Avon gave each other a lingering glare. The astute twins did not fail to see this dangerous tension between the two of them.

"Time for a story?" Captain Jenna asked the children, who sat at her feet in worshipful attention.

She heard Avon sigh. "Here we go. More flights of ridiculous fantasy."

And yet Avon did not leave.
Edited by Rainesz on 13 September 2017 21:53:36
 
Rainesz
...And Sailed the Seven Seas

Captain Jenna had fallen out of the sky and into the sea. She was was the toughest, most beautiful woman Cally Junior had ever met, and not even boring Zelda could disagree. Captain Jenna was old (she had some grey hair)—but not as old as Mr. Grumpy—and she wore dashing pilot clothes and had her own spaceship and a gun. (Or maybe lots of guns. Cally would try to sneak onto her ship later to see for herself.)

And what was best of all about Captain Jenna was that she liked to tell stories. The girls knew they weren't true stories, of course (Zelda and Cally were not idiots, after all) but that they were made up of fantastical pieces of Jenna's own adventures, transformed and mythologized. And at the end of each story, the girls would always follow the ritual of dutifully asking:

"And then what happened ...?"

"Well," Jenna shrugged, "they lived happily ever after, of course."

"No," pouted Cally Junior. "No, they didn't. Because that doesn't ever happen in real life."

"A pragmatist," Avon scoffed, his voice rustling like the leaves above his head. "She's not placated by fantasy."

Though he was leaning against the tree trunk with a pretense of boredom, Cally Junior knew otherwise: her empathy told her that he was far from disinterested. He was fascinated by every word of their conversation, no matter how juvenile. He seemed to think the little Auronar clones were innocent creatures in need of his protection.

Hardly, Cally thought in disgust. Mr. Grumpy can be really dumb sometimes.

"Fantasy is not just for entertainment, Avon," Jenna said to him with a scowl. "Fantasy can teach, too— no matter how farfetched it is, and how often it ignores the laws of physics." She looked at the girls now. "Am I right? Would you rather I tell you true tales about the Federation torturing its citizens—blowing up our rebel ships—or stories full of... oh, pirates and talking dolphins and evil queens?"

Both girls grinned.
"Pirates!"
"Evil queens!"
"Um...what's a dolphin?"
"A Terran aquatic mammal. They're extinct now. We read about them in a book, don't you remember?"
"Nope. That was a reeeeally boring book."

Avon sighed in irritation. And yet he did not walk away as Jenna began another vivacious tale:

"This is a story about four heroic women who sailed the seven seas on a pirate ship called the Liberator..."

"Four women...?" snorted Avon.

Jenna gave him a nasty smile. "Do me a favor and just shut up and let me tell it the way I want to." She continued: "Their names were Cally, Soolin and Dayna. Their captain was... Oh, let's call her Jenna..."

"You didn't even know Soolin and Dayna," muttered Avon.

Jenna glared and this time both children shouted in unison: "SHUSH!"

Avon sighed in defeat.

"They had a magical talking dolphin who guided them named Zen..."
Edited by Rainesz on 13 September 2017 21:53:58
 
Rainesz
Sorry. This long two-parter makes up for my absence last month.
 
Joe Dredd
Fantastic, Rainesz - both of them.
 
Travisina
Joe Dredd wrote:

Fantastic, Rainesz - both of them.

Seconded! I love your next generation stories Smile
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
littlesue
@ Rainesz...
...loved the line "They had a magical talking dolphin called Zen". I could just imagine Avon rolling his eyes heavenwards!!!!!
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Rainesz
Thank you!
I had actually started writing out Jenna's story (with audience commentary) but I thought I'd pushed everybody's patience enough with these two overlong ficlets.

...I really want to write about Jenna meeting Deva now though... Maybe later. Wink
 
Joe Dredd
The Fall of Serkasta

Travis read the communique quickly and impassionately. His course of action was now clear.

Stepping from the office he had commandeered as his headquarters, Travis could see the enormous sunken square laid out before him. Steps led down on all sides to the sprawling public space, in the centre of which a huge marble statue of Jocasta gleamed brightly in the sunlight. The two troopers standing guard at his door snapped to attention as he appeared, and the Section Leader crossed to his side.

Travis surveyed the makeshift pens he had orderd erected in the square, and the huge crowds imprisoned within them. He had a list of their names, all 1,417 of them. He didn't remember any of them, but he didn't need to. He only needed to know one fact: they were enemies of the Federation.

Travis called out to them. "The 48 hours is up. Have you seen sense yet?"

"We will do anything you say," cried one. "We are loyal citizens of the Federation. But you cannot change the name of our planet to Zircaster!"

"We are Serkastians," cried another. "It is our identity!"

Resistors to the last. Travis turned to his Section Leader. "Do it," he said.

He strode back into his office, unphased by the gunfire and screams behind him.
 
Joe Dredd
The Fall of Oros

Leaves swirled around the great statue of Horace, a symphony in umber and ochre driven by the chill wind. Boris Morris, the president of Oros, drew his great coat more tightly around his chest as he faced the Federation officials.

"So you're saying we have to change the name of our planet to Auros? But why?"

"It's just a matter of Federation policy," Secretary Rontane smiled thinly. "Policy must be implemented and you must follow it."

"It's nothing unusual," added Senator Bercol, stamping his feet to keep warm. "We've renamed Darlon IV to Gauda Prime, and Silmarino to---"

"Yes, nothing unusal," cut in Rontane, trying to cover Bercol's blunder. "It's all part of the scheme."

Boris looked unsure. The wind fanned his blonde hair about wildly, but as it normally looked like it had been cut by his mum with hedge trimmers while they were both asleep, it didn't make much difference.

"And the same with the language changes?"

"Yes," said Rontane. As usual any pretence at civility in his facial expression did not extend as far as his tone of voice. "To control a population properly - efficiently - you need to control their language."

"Um, right," said Boris, wondering how he was going to explain this to Doris. "And that's why we have to change the name of the planet and start spelling 'aluminum" with an extra 'i' in it?"

"That's right!" said Bercol, brightly.

"Exactly," said Rontane.

"And instead of saying 'sandwich cookie' we have to say -- ?"

"Cream-filled biscuit," supplied Rontane smoothly.

Boris tried to imagine what Maurice would think of all this. He'd be even more unhappy than he was during the Barnacle Card debacle.

"And instead of 'dunking' them, you say -- ?"

"Er, I know this one," said Boris, running his hand through his flyaway bed hair. "It's 'dip', isn't it?"

"That's right!" Bercol said encouragingly.

"Well, alright then," agreed Boris glumly. "If we have to, I suppose." He brightened momentarily. "But is there any chance we can retain the presidential transport?"

"I'm sorry," sniffed Rontane. "We checked and it definitely falls under the category of personal leisure transport and is therefore banned. You have 48 hours to hand it in."

"Oh well," said Boris. "I'd better enjoy it while I can. Toodle-pip, chaps!"

Boris adjusted his presidential cycle clips, straightened his ceremonial visibility sash and pedalled off.

As he cycled through the swirling leaves ringing his bell he realised that this time next year it would be the Autumn of Auros. This was indeed the last Fall of Oros.
 
Travisina
Wonderful, JD! Travis' two massacres, one chilling and the other hilarious. I can't imagine who you based Boris Morris on Wink
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Travisina
A Different Kind of Fall

Everybody falls; the trick is knowing how to do it properly. And if people laugh at you, so much the better – it disarms them, in every sense of the word. I learned some useful techniques from an older boy in the detention centre. He taught me how to land, to roll, bounce and get up again. It's helped keep me safe over the years. Well, safe-ish.

But this was a different kind of fall. I didn't even realise it was happening until I recognised the feeling as the lurch in the stomach when you're about to take a tumble. Then once you've come to a stop, the pounding heart and trembling limbs. The pain. Sympathetic laughter if you're lucky, mocking if you're not. I had all of those, apart from the laughter. I couldn't have faced that, so I didn't tell the others. I ached inside, but there were no outward signs - I'm good at pretending. Cally wouldn't have laughed, though. I'm sure of that.

Tarrant was convinced that there was something going on between her and Avon. He said he caught them snogging in her cabin. But Tarrant says a lot of things, and I don't always believe him. Besides, even if there was something between them, it didn't last long. It would have ended when she heard Avon declare his love for Anna Grant. It was certainly over by the time his recklessness lost us the Liberator.

Tarrant’s right about one thing, though – there’s a lot to do if we’re ever going to get off Terminal. He’s exploring the base, while Avon and Dayna have gone outside. Cally and I are working on the communications systems. We make a good team, and there's a new expression in her eyes when she looks at me. She gives me that little serious smile, my heart flips over and I'm falling again. This is my chance to tell her.

“Cally, I...”

Tarrant’s calling me. Typical.

She puts her hand on my arm, gives me a gentle push. “You’d better see what he wants.”

“Back in minute,” I promise.

She smiles again, and bends her head back to her work. She said she couldn’t read our minds, but perhaps she knows what I wanted to say. I hope so.

The first explosion brings down the ceiling; a piece of ceiling brings down Tarrant. I can’t reach Cally with him in the way, so I drag him out first. He’s big and heavy, and I’m too slow, too late to save her.

*

The bolt slams into my back, the floor tilts and I’m falling. It’s another kind of fall; this time I know I won’t be getting up again. But Cally is here, her arms held out to catch me. I can’t breath, I can’t speak, but I know she can hear my thoughts. “I love you!” I think, as loud as I can, as the fall ends and sweet darkness envelops us.

***

Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Rainesz
Oh Travisina, that's wonderful and heart-breaking. You write Vila so well. (And a his secret love for Cally explains all his excessive drinking in "Sand".) And of course, everyone "falls" in the last episode, but it's nice to have Cally there in spirit too.
 
Rainesz
Hugbot, that was wonderfully written and so mythic. And I loved the Schrödinger’s Cat analogy.
 
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