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The Judge

Truth. Order. Moderation.
Staff member
Nov 10, 2008
nearly the New Forest

To write a story in 300 words or less

INSPIRED by the image provided below, and in the genre of

Science Fiction, Fantasy, or other Speculative Fiction

Only one entry per person

All stories Copyright 2013 by their respective authors, who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here

This thread will be closed until January 10

-- as soon as the thread is unlocked, you may post your story

Entries must be posted no later than January 31, 2013

at 11:59 pm GMT

Voting will close February 15, 2013 at 11:59 pm GMT

(unless moderators choose to make an extension based on the number of stories)

You do not have to enter a story to vote. In fact, we encourage ALL Chronicles members to read the stories and vote for their favorites.

You may cast three votes

For a further explanation of the rules see Rules for the Writing Challenges

The inspiration image for this month is:


Photograph by Charles Knowles.
Last edited by a moderator:


Who are you people?
Apr 27, 2011
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Interminable Beach

They must have sighted me from their ship. They landed with a scream of deceleration. Three of them, on foot, two hundred metres away but gaining, running straight while I weave and turn. They are tall, have an unearthly gait. I am out on open beach. A fish in a barrel.

I reload as I run. Listening. The rising whine of the weapon’s power cycle fills me with dread. The slow crescendo associated with dozens of near-death encounters, the soundtrack of my nightmares. My heavy boots pounding, pressing drier circles into the wet sand. The roar of the waves. The hacking sobs of my breathing. The whistle of rounds passing me. The burning hiss as they hit the beach.

The rifle is ready. I drop, roll, turn, streaming with sand and brine, pick out one of them with the scope and fire. The pulse slug penetrates his light armour and he comes apart, the light spilling out of his ribs, like a lantern. Lord forgive me for my elation.

I run fast toward the rusted wreck. I hear them bellowing, raging. Automatic fire clangs off the metal ruin as I reach cover. I am not hit! Now they are the targets. I have time to lock them in the scope and kill them both. One falls to his knees, his upper body blown away, burning like a beach bonfire.

I see the opening in the clouds where another of their ships will drop. The invasion is long, slow, indefatigable. It will never end while there are pulse rifles and ships. I am no different. I fight for what is mine. We humans: me, these burning, bio-enhanced warriors. We are all the same. We are everywhere in this galaxy. There are infinite resources and greed. The war will never end.

Jo Zebedee

Aliens vs Belfast.
Oct 5, 2011
blah - flags. So many flags.
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Song of the faerie.

There's a boat on the beach and it’s not of this world.

“Do you see anything?” I ask.

Gary’s the most grounded person I know; he holds me where I’m safe. “Yeah,” he says. “Beautiful.”

I hadn’t expected that. “Why here?”

He shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Yes. A faerie boat from the underworld. My breathing tightens. Prickles cover my skin, great welts that itch and fade a moment later. “Why now?”

He puts his hand on my arm. “Amy, what do you see?”

I point at the ark and it sings a faerie song to me. Gary holds me so tight that it hurts. “Amy, what is it?”

I shake him off. Amy, amy, amy; a dangerous lullaby. I reach out and touch the ship, run my fingers over its rusted edges, take comfort in its solid form.

“Amy!” He takes me in his arms and smells of coffee and orange. He kisses me, even though he knows I’m bad. “What do you see?”

His voice, heavy with fear, rips through me and brings me back. I watch three kite-surfers tack the tideline, moving in tandem with the wind. That’s what Gary saw. Their sails were the faerie’s song, their shadows on the beach my boat.

“Nothing. It was nothing.” I don’t meet Gary’s eyes, frightened I’ll be taken back to hospital and the mumbled voices of concern.

That won’t happen; I’m better. It was one of my little moments, that’s all.

“Let’s go.” He leads the way and I close my ears to the faeries' song, urging me do their bidding. I stumble, knowing I will be back, when it's moonlight and I'm alone. Because they're real and they want me and so they'll have me.
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Lady of Autumn
Oct 26, 2006
Lincolnshire, UK
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)


The waves gently lapped towards her feet, and she had to jump to get out of the way. To her, the seas had always been dangerous. It wasn’t drowning that she was afraid of: it was the water itself. Just one drop of it on your skin could make you very, very ill.

Walking further up the beach, she saw one of the wrecked ships. Centuries ago, the seas had been terrorised by great beasts known as Leviathans. These immense creatures, full of teeth and tentacles, had made both trade and exploration impossible, so certain measures had been taken. A vast fleet had been assembled, armed with spells and swords, to eliminate the threat once and for all.

The battles were long and, after several decades, the seas were declared safe. An age of discovery began, and new countries and peoples were discovered. Magic was set aside in favour of science, and civilisation flourished.

She sighed. How wrong they had been!

Her grandfather had been one of the researchers who had discovered the naturally occurring toxin in the water, after people had started to sicken and die. The realisation that it had been the Leviathans that had filtered the poison from the water as part of their diet had come as a terrible shock. Even now, scientists were working on a way to artificially cleanse the seas, but everyone knew it was too little, too late. The poison had already entered the water cycle, and the rain was as deadly as the ocean.

“Why should I be punished for something my ancestors did?” she screamed at the darkening sky. “Why can’t anyone do anything?"

Thunder seemed to rumble a reply, and she kicked sand at the ruined ship. Scowling, she fled before it started to rain.


by day Stuart Orford by night Dark Lord's scribe
Mar 22, 2012
Mercia, UK
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Paradise … lost

I trudged wearily down the well trodden path. Either side fields of straggly grass that stirred faintly with a memory of a breeze stretched away to a hazy horizon where land and sky became one. Overhead grey clouds languidly boiled and roiled across a sky as equally dour, beyond which sat the faint pale outline of the sun as it moodily sulked.

An age I walked, or so it seemed. The lack of anything different lulled me into the lethargic gait of a somnambulist.

A stumble, a fall, and sand between my fingers from a bone white beach.

In front of me there lay the forlorn wreck of a ship partly buried in the sand, ribs of black weathered wood standing starkly contrasted against the grey sky beyond. Without any other direction or guide I continued on and, upon drawing near, noticed a solitary figure sitting wearily beneath, body and face hidden by folds of dark cloth.

“No one believes.”

The voice was hollow and echoed across the beach where no sound should have.

“Open your hand.”

I did, the palm was empty, although for the briefest of a moment I saw the ghost of something lying there.

“You have no payment.”

He swept an arm out pointing across the beach to a dark stretch of unforgiving water.

“You cannot cross.”

I blinked. At the edge of my vision a mist crept, slowly coalescing into countless figures of people shuffling back and forth, eyes stuck to their own solitary path ahead.

“They could not cross.”

I spun around on the spot, head twisting savagely in an effort to see them more clearly but they remained elusively in the corner of my eye. I stopped, dropped my head and walked on.

“Welcome to eternity.”


Well-Known Member
Jul 24, 2008
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)


High atop an island mountain stood a king. Not a king you would recognize. This one had a crown from the earth; wood and leaves alike. He spoke in a booming voice to the masses spread out below on the beach.

“For hundreds of years we have stayed here. Once we were a weak and frightened people. But no longer do we have to bear the weight of our ancestor’s follies. We are now thousands strong. We have bred and trained for centuries for this purpose. We will return to our lands and wreak havoc on those who drove us from our bountiful fields. We will kill them as they slaughtered our people like cattle.”

This drew a loud reaction. Spears clunking as their ends hit the rock and sand. Swords reached for the sky. Their noise caused a flock of birds to rouse in the distance. As if drawing inspiration from the winged creatures, the King closed his eyes and after a brief moment he rose into the air. There he floated, hovering high above his people.

“Now follow me from this place, and let us return home!!”

Amongst cheering they formed into groups and all flew into the sky. It was thought by them a blessing that they landed on this island so many years ago. Their forefathers began noticing abilities only months after being out there. Powers grew as time went on.

For days they flew towards their ancient homeland. One morning as the sun rose above the horizon they spotted land. It was beyond their wildest imagination. Buildings rose into the clouds. Huge metal birds flew in the sky. Self propelling wagons cluttered the landscape.

Somewhere between fear, wonder and anger, the King motioned for them to stop right by the coastline. Revenge was upon them.


Jun 2, 2006
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Live Forever, Die Alone

I go into the chippy and watch the young lad plunge the basket into the boiling fat. My stomach rumbles as the potatoes crisp and, if I imagine hard enough, I can even smell it.

It's empty now though. There is no lad. No chips. Everything's covered in dust. Nothing to eat here.

I wander back outside and walk along the promenade. The wind blows papers and bits of rubbish across the street. It's the only noise I hear.

Sometimes I wonder if I've forgotten how to speak. I don't bother trying. What if I have forgotten? Not that it matters. There's nobody to speak to but myself and I've never been a very good conversationalist.

I wish there were zombies. Or vampires. Or some sort of monster you used to see in films. Something I could hunt, or play with or, I don't know. Shag. Eat.

I'm so hungry I want to cry. There's nothing left anywhere. Nothing.

God, I wish the sun would blow up. Or an asteroid would strike. I wish aliens would come and take me away.

Please come and take me away.

I clamber over a wall, stumble across the pebbled beach and keep going until I'm waist deep in the sea. The sea is stagnant now, like a pond. The tides have gone. Everything's gone. Sometimes I remember that it's weird.

I take a breath and disappear beneath the water, breathing out, watching bubbles rise, and then I breathe in until my lungs fill with water.

I've done this before.

I didn't die then either.


Well-Known Member
Jan 19, 2012
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

A Sea filled with a Forgotten God.

An old man sat upon the dry grassy hill as the bonfire burned brightly upon his face, “who has heard the story of our freedom” he asked in a deep throaty voice rubbing his scraggly beard. Children sat poking and prodding each other with anticipation. “Upon the barren hill stood two warriors; Vrall and Demetrius looked over the beach far below at the legions of enemies which stood before them.”

The old man said as he lit his pipe, his eyes fogged over with visions of the two rushing the front line of enemy, swords drawn. Slain Orcs lay across the wet sand; the smell of blood soaked into the air as the two quickly cut through front lines of defense. Thousands more stood between them and Clorvis, their God which stood far above his legions of slaves. The two moved flawlessly striking down anything that stood before them.

Hours had passed and victory seemed to be lost; Orcs had surrounded the two beating their clubs against the wet sand when between the ranks stepped Clorvis. Laughing he bent down to look upon his enemy “Foolish are those that stand against me.”

“Riseonia of deo Sae” Vrall spat at Clorvis, instantly the sea rose up and came crashing down upon the enemy ranks. Clorvis stood there shocked for an instant as Vrall leapt upon his chest driving his sword deep and true.

“Orcs fled from their slain God for nothing was left there but death, thus we earned our freedom” the story teller finished walking over to the edge of the hill; “there lay the bones of Clorvis upon the sandy beach,” he said smiling “Riseonia of deo Sae” he said so quietly no one heard him as the ribcage was swallowed up by the sea far below.


Senile Member
Jan 30, 2012
High Wycombe
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)


The shuttle doors opened and SentryBot glided out with its weapons scanning. John followed soon after, sealing his environment suit as he stepped onto the wind swept beach. Yes, he thought, these are the remains of a drop lifeboat. The USS Berlin had been had been hit by a smart mine during the war, forcing the crew to abandon ship above this planet.

Suddenly, SentryBot turned; weapons ready. John saw people where dunes rose from the beach. They looked skinny and half-starved, wearing furs and carrying hand-made hunting weapons.

‘Captain, I’ve made contact,’ radioed John, to the ship above.

‘The SentryBot has been giving us live visual,’ replied Captain Smyth, buzzing in his earpiece. ‘Rescue will follow soon. Proceed with caution.’

John smiled and looked at SentryBot; handmade weapons were not a concern. Turning away from the hulk of the lifeboat, John walked off the beach and along rough paths through the dunes. The village was easily found; a number of mud huts roofed with a grass material scattered in the shelter of the dunes, each looking weak and forlorn in this vast landscape.

Standing in the doorway of a hut was a haggard looking woman, waving him silently over. As John approached she stood aside, and he entered. The hut was smoke filled from a small fire. On one side was an old man lying on a rickety looking cot with grey hair ‘You’ve come,’ gasped the old man.

‘Of course we have, who are you?’ asked John.

‘Ensign Weaver.’

John smiled and held his aged, liver spotted hand. ‘You’re safe now.’

‘It’s been so long,’ said Weaver, nodding toward the woman in the doorway. ‘Our children… they know so little.’

‘It’s ok; we’ll take them all home.’

‘Tell me… please,’ pleaded Weaver. ‘Did we win the war?’


Oct 2, 2012
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Hell and Back

In my moment of despair she took me in
Gave me warmth and love to replace my sin
She rescued me from the streets I’d roamed
With open arms she took me into her home
Things would never be the same
And in the night she called my name

Reborn, I’d been given a new life to lead
A chance to live released from greed
With open eyes I saw opportunity abound
And a chance to travel the stars around
The beast within she had tamed
And in the night she called my name

But old friends of mine had memories long
They never forgot how I’d done them wrong
They came to our home, they took her away
Years after their loss, they made sure I would pay
They would rape, they would maim
In the dead of night, she cried my name

I found her the next day, broken and battered
I wept on the floor, my world had been shattered
At the end there were no words to be spoken
As she died in my arms the beast was awoken
They would die, they would pay
With her last breath, she whispered my name

Lost in a furious rage I swept through the city
I was a reaper of death, no remorse, no pity
My old friends died lost in a world of pain
But in my rage I was careless, caught, chained
They said I couldn’t be tamed
All I could hear, was her saying my name

I’m locked up waiting for death, they say
Always lost in my mind, beneath skies of grey
Beneath the sky a beach, further out the sea
Standing in the surf, she is waiting there for me
Soon, I will see her again
In my dreams, she calls my name


Active Member
May 30, 2012
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

"Arkady and the Sea"

“Do you feel it, Arkady?” Mikhail asked, rasping the question through blistered lips.

“Yes,” Arkady managed to answer as tendrils of flame hissing through the cracking deck boards darted into his flesh like rapacious orange vipers. Steam bubbled from his ravaged skin with each searing bite.

“Not the fire,” Mikhail pressed, “The sea.”

The blood on Mikhail's face, none his own, had baked to a crust as rivulets of sweat carved arcane designs into it. A shadow of the black danced behind Mikhail's darting eyes.

Arkady could not feel the sea.

“Move,” Arkady ordered. Choking smoke crippled his command to a plea. Mikhail did not step from the hatch. A barred porthole shattered behind Arkady, finally warped beyond its limits by the unholy fire consuming the cabin.

“I'm not yours anymore,” Mikhail declared. “I have been granted a new calling.”

It was her, Arkady realized. The new one had bedeviled Mikhail. The girl.

“You cannot help now,” Arkady forced through his tattered throat. “She can only burn, or drown.”

Even in his necromantic madness, Mikhail must know that. Witches can't float. The Tigel would go down, and all of the warlocks, mediums, and occultists aboard would freeze as their lungs filled with the saliferous waters of the Laptev. One in chains cannot swim, no matter their magicks.

“I know you feel it, Arkady, the sea.” Mikhail whispered gleefully. A lick of mischievous flame caressed his leg, catching his bloodied pants ablaze. Arkady's warden took no notice.

Still Arkady could not feel the sea.

Mikhail collapsed as the fire consumed his jacket, melting its fibers into his skin. He smiled, triumphantly gurgling his final words from boiling lungs.

“You cannot feel it because we are aground, Arkady. She is freed.”
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Karn Maeshalanadae

I'm a pineapple
Dec 2, 2007
My own twisted Wonderland
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

The Ghost Ship of Shiner’s Bay

Shiner’s Bay. That is what they call it. Rumor has it, in the days of living on the planet Earth, Russian pirates would flee out of Vladivostok to the reaches of the Northwestern coast of Alaska, unloading crates of smuggled alcohol and other contraband, specifically steel.

That was, until a storm hit in the year 4084. A galleon, taken by a Russian pirate frigate, was splintered heavily after a rogue wave broke the hull. It sank beneath the surface within a matter of minutes; the Southwestern American oak was no match for the frigid temperatures of the Arctic circle. Every man aboard was taken.

And now I, a Lieutenant Colonel of the Western Colonies of Mars, have volunteered to make one last launch off to our old home of Earth.

Reports had come in that that very galleon has finally been washed aground, along with what is left of its cargo in the hull.

“Sir, we are about two minutes from touching down.”

The report broke my thoughts. “Alright. I want to be the first to touch down on land.”

“Sir.” The soldier saluted as I stepped into a battle suit.

I winced as the sun hit my eyes, stepping out cautiously. My team moved in slowly, mindful of the local wildlife.

But that was not what got us, in the end. It was not the polar bears. It was something far deadlier, borne of shadow, of hatred, from death.

Shiner’s Bay. If anyone from the land of the living can hear this message, for the love of God, do NOT attempt a retrieval of Shiner’s Bay! There is nothing here for the living. Please, heed my warning. Save yourselves.

The Final Accounts of Lt. Colonel Jameson.


Well-Known Member
Mar 8, 2012
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

The Queen of the Sea

The pirate bar, The Sullen Monkey, is busy tonight – I slink in unnoticed behind the big, brawny men, their ragged beards and patched bodies stinking of sweat and alcohol. I do what I always do: order Miguelinho rum on the rocks and sit quietly in the corner with the others. The quiet ones.

I guess there was a big capture today. The big purple-feathered tricorn of Capitano Ennera is visible in the corner, his face freshly slashed and messily stitched. The iodine stains his cheek sickly yellow.

'Tell us o' the isla, Capitano,' one of the sailors asks.

'Aye!' another one, a local lad, encourages. 'Tell how you robbed from the Queen o' the Sea herself!'

Panic punches through me at her name. A flush runs all the way down to my covered breasts; like every time I come here, wonder if they know I'm not one of them. How dangerous I am.

'That far across the sea,' Ennera says, his voice dark and creamy, 'there is no night, nor day, just grey. The wind blows hard, pushing you back to where you belong. Things in the sea call out at night, enticing the lads from their watchposts and into the water. Many a man lost to her call.' I watch his face, the slight drop of his gaze, and want to reach out, to touch him. 'The beach of her isla is strewn with the carcasses of men who lost to her. She didn't give in easy.'

The whole bar is silent. I feel the rum burning my cheeks, my throat, but it's not just that, it's her. She lives in me. And I live in her. I made her weak – I let Ennera through.

The wind picks up outside. I feel a chill run through me.

She knows.

Perpetual Man

Tim James
Jun 13, 2006
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)


We called them Space Whales, but that was an unfair appellation really. In truth they were knows as the Al-Fariar-Dom-Ne Mare, and it seemed as though they were older than the stars. So few got to see them that they were known mostly through stories and rhymes.

But you knew you had a soul when you heard them sing, that was what you were told, and how could you resist that? Despite the impossibility, you wanted to see. You wanted to hear. To believe.

How was it be possible, that such creatures could exist; swimming on the solar winds, living in a vacuum? Surely they were as impossible as mermaids, and yet the tales persisted. Of how big they were, how they dipped into a stars coronas, feeding on stellar radiation; how they breathed on newborn light. Their super-dense rainbow skin; eyes as bright as moons, their diaphanous fins and wings became glorious in the celestial light, more durable and beautiful than the finest silk.

Just stories they said.

And there I stood in the grey dawn, on a world of mud and stagnant sand, looking at the fractured ribs that rose from the shore, climbing toward the distant sky. Cracked and broken, more immense than anything living had the right to be.

Consumed by sand they were part of the world below, slowly being consumed by time. Yet they stood tall, their own grave-marker, worn by winds and the passage of years, yet still strong, still a memory of what once they had been.

And if I dared to lay my hands upon one of those dwarfing tines I could feel a vibration that ran through them still, an echo of a song older than time.

Just stories they said, but not all stories lie.


Juliana Spink Mills. "No capes!"
Jun 28, 2012
Connecticut, USA
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)


The photograph on display was hauntingly beautiful. A steely sea under iron-grey skies. And the wreck, beckoning, calling to her.

Jess could feel it, if she closed her eyes. The touch of weather-warped wood, sodden splinters on her soft skin. She opened her eyes and walked into the gallery, dizzy with longing.

Every night for the past month she had slipped away in her sleep, dream-walking the wet sand to meet him by the waves. Warm skin, urgent lips, a rough yet gentle embrace. No one else around, no one for miles. Their own private world.

She had no idea who he was, or where they went, this place they met in again and again in the hours between sleeping and waking. Until now, no idea that it was anything more than a dreamscape. She would awaken, stretching sated in her bed, with damp clothing and the smell of salt on her skin.

Until now, until today, met suddenly on a busy high street by the picture in the window. Her wreck. Their wreck.

Inside, the cool shade was soothing on her feverish skin. The attendant saw her admiring the print and walked over, gushing.

Such a talented photographer… That’s him, over there.”

Jess turned towards the man in the corner, intrigued. He took a startled step towards her, smiling in sudden recognition. Time stopped for a heartbeat and the fresh scent of the sea filled the dusty city air.


Caaw blimey, Guv'nor!
Dec 2, 2011
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Pearlman’s Escape

Invisible amongst us, they have walked for centuries, singular entities shaping humanity’s future; enshrining mythologies across cultures and across millennia. So many years, in the grip of charlatans and sages; the answers walked hidden in our plain sight.

Humanity sensed their presence, always failing to grasp that which is so simple; following their plans yet never understanding their purpose. We’ve never been alone.

There were always clues: vast astronomical temples; henges, mountaintop runways, alignments and sacred geometries; dark gods that fall from the sky or inhabit the depths. The devil gets the best tunes, and they’re ‘the devil’.

Pearlman understands, first-hand: Sci-Fi sells; he’s living testimony to this. Hell, he’d written all that material for those Long Islanders, hadn’t he?

An August storm moves in from the east: iron-grey and leaden, heavy with Atlantic rain. Drawing breath, the air tastes bitter: copper, electric; lip-spittle like sour communion wine. Time passes slowly here, warping for a while.

From his draughty apartment overlooking Oyster Bay, Pearlman watches the clouds begin to tear themselves open.

“First star we see tonight…”

< The doorbell rings >

Three man at the door: sharp black suits, mirror-gilded shoes and designer wraparounds. Pearlman has been waiting for this day, lodging above the Four Winds bar, an agent of his own lonely fortune.

"I wish I may..."

< The doorbell rings again, then hammering fists. Shouting on the jetty below >

He has been netting his catch from this ocean of souls, since the day he fell from high above the thunderheads. The sky twists in silent agony. Pearlman’s eyes glitter star-white.

"I wish I might..."

< The door is smashed from its hinges; heavy footfalls, running upstairs. Shouting >

Momentarily, the air above Four Winds burns in stellar fire; Pearlman ascends, god-like and golden; not grey at all.


Banishment this world!
Jan 28, 2012
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

The demon in my heart​

Waves lapped at my feet, the sound of them braking against the shore a curse in my head; dead, dead, dead… and it was my fault. Her life had been in my care.

A loud creak drew my attention to the wreckage of the ship. I blinked. Before my eyes, holes were repaired as if by magic. Masts rose tall and fresh sails unfurled. Sounding like thunder, a great wave rose up from the ocean and swept both me and the ship away.

I stood at the bow of the ship and gazed out across the never-ending ocean beyond the horizon. Where was the ship taking me? What would I do once I got there? I didn’t know what it expected of me, but as the clouds darkened, and the sea started to twist and turn, I knew I would have challenges to face along the way.

I spotted the outline of another ship, fighting against the rough waters. It turned my way, tattered and broken, looking like a ghost ship. Its cannons fired as the ship drew alongside mine. My ship trembled and groaned. A terrifying cackle drifted across from the ghost ship.

No, I wouldn’t surrender! With a sword in my hand, my ship turned to make another pass. I raised my arm, pointing the blade towards the sky and heard the covers on the gun deck opening, cannons emerging.

I swept the sword through the air. Cannon fire echoed through my ears. The dark ship was torn to pieces and started to sink, followed by the pitiful wails of its defeated captain.

I blinked, and once more stood upon the shoreline. Waves lapped at my feet, the sound of them braking against the shore a gentle lull, calming my thoughts. Peace. Now I could move on.


Benevolent Galaxy Being
Mar 11, 2010
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Journey of the Necromancer

"Captain, eight crew members are dead. What's going on?"

"That obelisk we collected from Pluto, is evil."


"I didn't believe it either, but I decrypted our mission from the computer, I found out Earth's governments have been researching aliens. Human history has been a lie, a terrible secret kept from the masses about demonic alien spirits controlling humankind for eons. 3000 years ago those evil spirits were wiped off the Earth, and the belief in one God grew. Within recent centuries, people have been losing their faith, humankind is currently split between believing in God, or following the devil. That alien monument we're bringing back will tip the scale towards empowering the devil."


"Look, we're in this for a lot of money. You, me, and Angela, we'll all be rich. People don't want to believe in God anymore."

"Your soul may be for sale, but not mine."

"We'll be passing Mars soon, we're almost home."

"We're not bringing that damned thing to Earth!"

Angela watched the two men fight violently. She noticed the Captain's eyes had the same possessed look as the other crew members that went mad. She fired her laser pistol at the Captain, unfortunately vaporizing both men and destroyed a control panel.

Their ship, the Necromancer, changed trajectory and raced into another solar system. Angela soft landed on an unknown world, after she escaped the ship, the Necromancer exploded, thus destroying the obelisk. She looked upon the charred remains of the ship, and then into a darkening swirling sky. Monstrous hazy forms of alien spirits rose from the wreckage of the Necromancer, screaming in defeated cries of anguish as they floated upward.

Rays of a sun shined from a now clearing sky upon Angela. She felt she'd made a difference, and God had blessed her.


Transcontinental intergalactic tea drinker
Sep 13, 2011
Offices on Earth, Haumea, and at Galactic Core.
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

For I Maun Cross the Main

He breathed in the sea air, revelling in its iodine tang. The sand was firm under his feet, the way it could only be, three hours after the tide had receded. Still damp, but not wet enough to soak his shoes.

Offshore, he could see the ships lining up to come over the harbour bar, as the tide turned. They still had their lights on, the morning light only just beginning to break through the storm clouds of the night before. He was thankful he hadn't been out in that.

But, at least they can run for shore.

He shook his head. He wasn't having doubts--not really--but nor was he a fool. In less than a week, he'd be -

"Are we ready?" Lena's voice broke into his thoughts. "Andy?"

He turned and smiled, faking enthusiasm. "I'm ready when you are."

"How's it feel being back in your home town?" Her perfectly coiffed hair was being disrupted by the cold north-easterly wind.

Andy shook his head. "I'm actually from Gamrie, up on the Buchan coast. The media office decided the public would know Aberdeen better. Being a city, y'know?"

She chuckled. "Figures. Well, we can do a follow up. People want to know everything about you. You, the whole crew." She touched her ear. "Two minutes."


He stood against the backdrop of the North Sea. The ships were starting to edge in, the first approaching the mouth of the harbour channel.

"Continuing our series on the crew of the Marco Polo, we're here with the Second Engineer, Andrew Fowlie." Lena turned to him. "Andy, you're due to blast off in five days, the first ever manned voyage outside the Solar System. Are you all set?"

He grinned for the camera. "I think so."


New Member
Jan 14, 2013
Re: 300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #8 (January 2013)

Ghost wandered trough moving mountains. When they failed to reveal snowy tops he came to the rusty giant. "Oh what they're done to your bones?! Moving mountains burned you like a coal, the one that reminds of ancient fires. Heat me with memories as the blackness sickens all that don't hear you. Like me you were abandoned by your captain."
White shield spite his hordes to burn the old giant again.
"Oh how I never cried on corporals until I see you burned with cold fires." Ghost flew toward white shield bravely screaming "For thy destiny to smither I'll pay you with my forgotten heart when even shells mock you with their treasures! If world is nothing but a beast for you then curse the vain that carved thy face with eternal black tears!" As ghost stood to turn back on shield's silence the great white spoke and even ghost trembled. "I am non but a servant."
"A servant to loss?"
"Servant of forgotten. Every night I mingle with beings that rack ashamed. I only send my hordes to wash their deeds and make room for the wake that would make dreamers out of people instead."
"What begotten you to release dreamers from this world?"
"The mighty boss who pushes people down the trolley roads which then they must climb."
"But if it's not place for dreamers what'll happen to me?"
"Much I known just like thy that are weaker than the shadow when you are non other then black tears that slip from my face and fall onto clouds."
"Then thy is not a servant but a vulture of life! Stay and serve your heart when thy tear wants it so."
When the roam of wake came white shield was losing horizon leaving rusty giant and his forgotten sound.
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