June 2016 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO MOSAIX!

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TheDustyZebra

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RULES:

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme and genre in no more than 75 words, not including the title

ONE entry per person

NO links, commentary or extraneous material in the posts, please -- the stories must stand on their own


WHEN WRITING YOUR STORY, PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A FAMILY-FRIENDLY FORUM

All stories Copyright 2016 by their respective authors,
who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here



The complete rules can be found at Rules for the Writing Challenges

Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 23, 2016

Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, June 28, 2016


You do not have to submit a story in order to vote --
in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner




The Magnificent Prize:


The Dignified Congratulations/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers
and the challenge of choosing next month's theme and genre




Theme:

Mass Production


Genre:

Fantasy



This thread to be used for entries only.

Please keep all comments to the DISCUSSION THREAD

We invite (and indeed hope for) lively discussion and speculation about the stories as they are posted, so long as it doesn't involve the author explaining the plot.


** Please do not use the "Like" button in this thread! **
 
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Glen

Who are you people?
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Apr 27, 2011
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781
Location
Sydney
You can have any colour you like...

‘Mass production! Have you mind your lost, Jenkins?’
‘There will be one in every home!’
‘I’m recovering still! Even one continuum destabilising engine is too many!’
‘The unions are rising! The masses are revolting! We are losing the means of production to the proletariat!’
‘turn the world inside out You will!’
‘That is already happening, Smythe. The empire is at its end! But I will be rich! More port?’
 

chrispenycate

resident pedantissimo
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To Produce a Pagan Mass

The rough-ruffed, altered altar boys
Await transubstantiation.
A toxic tocsin's clang destroys
All feelings but elation.
Come, beast, in Higgish boson guise;
Your worshipers await you.
Tow'ring machines just emphasise
Chthonic roots create you.
Energy as cosmic wine,
Matter bread, essence divine.

White-clad acolytes profoundly seek
In subterrainean depravity
Revealed in scriptures subatomique
Research can't formulate more gravity
Related in the nether peak
Analytical and gnomic,
Observing instruments bespeak
A deity scientifique.
 

Ray McCarthy

Sentient Marmite: The Truth may make you fret.
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Outsourcing the Production
“I’ve looked at your figures”, said Brantz, “Only $70,000 each?”

“That’s why it’s two parts kits per unit,” admitted Larseen, “Our tank technology isn’t as good as yours, the double kit assures over 99%, you repeat on failure.”

She hugged her $150,000 baby. Worth it to avoid pregnancy.

Larseen watched the workers. He’d increased their pay by $9,000 and given them three months off. Pregnancy didn’t impair their work.
 

Ragandar

Self-styled derp
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‘I can always make more of you.’

Grokh often thought on his master’s words. They hurt more than the commonplace broken bones and injuries of the gold mines.

The orc compared his water reflection with the memories of his dead brethren. The same broken tusks, the same dark skin, yet still unique.
Was he not his own person, despite their similarities, despite that they were mass-produced. Was he not worthy of his own life?
 

Zen Dragon

Find out what your hero wants, then follow him-RB
Joined
May 24, 2016
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Location
The land of OZ
MPD

The clockwork conveyor rolled along the iron components as the gnomes fastened them together with rivets of steel. Hammers clanged and wrenches turned while trolls lifted the heavy parts onto the belt at one end and removed the assembled ones at the other.

The work-bell chimed loudly, sounding the end of the day. Gnomes put down their tools and trolls smiled missing tooth grins as the days’ last dragon rolled off the assembly line.
 

Kieran Song

Author. Sorcerer. Overlord.
Joined
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Location
Lost Somewhere
THE VAMPIRE FACTORY
I smell their blood through the pores of their pre-pubescent skin--young, rich, and coppery, unspoiled by disease and decay that comes with age.

My king is pleased. "What brings a crowd of virgins to this fate? Depression? loneliness?"

"Vampire erotica." I reply. "They're here for the false promises of supernatural romance, immortality, and the ability to sparkle in the sun."

"We sparkle?"

"In books we do."

"Silly mortals."

I salivate.
 

sinister42

The sinister resister.
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Portland, Oregon
Reboot


Foreman Throg wrinkled his green brow at the commotion below. Chants of “Union!” from the idle imps on the line, and a tight window to deliver these epic helmets.

“Reboot them,” Throg said to his assistant, who nodded.

She raised one arm and shot out a purple beam that expanded to encompass the factory floor. The chant stopped, and the imps blinked at each other.

“Alright, new employees,” Throg bellowed. “Your training begins today.”
 

Vaz

We're in the pipe, five by five.
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1,351
Location
Liverpool, United Kingdom
Meal Ticket





Grub slinked forward, human skin masking his face and ears jiggering with the growling of metal beast’s grinding bone to broth.


First Grublin to eat human food, nine-fingered Nan will be jealous!


He snatched a bowl and drank deep. The brew was lovely, salted and sweet. A bone picked at his tongue that he pricked free, gagging.


'Nan's ninth finger ....?’


Tears streamed.


'They turn us into soup!'


Grub took another swig.


'We're delicious.'
 

Cascade

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252
We are not what we do for a living.

The factory line is sweltering. It always is in July. Humid, and hot with the waxy scent of machine oil and sweat and polished brass.

My shoulders ache, and itch beneath my canvas jacket.

Gloria, two chairs down, swears as she bangs her knuckles.

Four units to go.

Three.

I look at the clock.

two…

one…

done.

I shrug off my work clothes, let my wings unfold and fly home to my daughter
 

Victoria Silverwolf

Vegetarian Werewolf
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Chattanooga, Tennessee, USA
Automation

Doctor Mirabella’s workshop was operated by golems, each performing its mindlessly repetitious task without tiring. Elixirs and amulets, created in complex ways any human would have found unbearably wearying, emerged by the score each day. Doctor Mirabella refused to reveal his secrets. No one knew how to stop the golems when he died. The city was soon abandoned to the flood of magical items that filled its streets, even to the top of the cathedral.
 

reiver33

Only Forward
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Location
Dumfries
Arise! Arise!


I am the pit-master; birth-lord and armourer. My master demands no mindless legion, no army of slaves.

Thought becomes deed.

Beneath the iron fortress my minions labour; mid-wives to a new age. Corrupted flesh reborn as darkspawn to serve the Cunning Mind.

Under a moonless sky the serried ranks of skin and steel advance - a dark shadow spreading across the land.

One vision, one purpose.

There shall be no dawn for mankind.
 

Luiglin

by day Stuart Orford by night Dark Lord's scribe
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Mercia, UK
Fun Friday

"This better be good, Minion. Those troubadours Greblest booked were awful. Who booked this week?"

Minion's finger highlighted a body as it flailed free of the stage curtain revealing the chemical stained figure of Doctor Phumlag.

"Crap."

"It's Fun Friday," squawked Phumlag. "Through the dimensional portal I've brought forth an exciting new act. My Dark Lord, get ready for the time of your life as I present the Catholic Priests with their production - Mass!"
 

cab

Member
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5
Timing Issues.

At last, in a small antechamber, the rarest creature in all the nine kingdoms, a wish fairy, unused at that. Each tiny creature containing just enough magic for one wish.

"I need more." he thought, “Copy yourself twice.”

“Wish selected.” She chirped “Copying.”

POP! POP! Another two appeared.

“Soon I’ll be all powerful.”

“Wish selected. Copying.” They sang in unison.

POP! POP! POP! POP!

“Hmmm… I wonder how big this place is ?”
 

Cathbad

Level 30 Geek Master
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8,863
Location
Everywhere.
Salesmanship

“Sir,” the gnome hissed, “my magic carousels aren’t cheap! Each one is individually handcrafted!”

“Alright, don’t get angry!” The human counted his gold. “’I’m sorry, but do you have one in blue?”

“I’ll check.” The gnome went through a door behind the counter.

Hundreds of gnomes busied themselves making parts, assembling, or painting carousels.

“I need a blue.”

A worker brought one to the Master. The Master nodded, and went back to finalize the sale.
 

Mr Orange

Rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb...
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Noo Zillund
A Quacking Story


"Friar Tristan, chapel was a bit empty this morning."

"I know. No idea why."

"Maybe your sermon last week claiming Alfred the Giant Mallard is the devil?"

'Nonsense! The congregation loved it."

"Not so sure about that. Alfred is a great bird, and he did industrialise our grain production."

"So?"

"So a lot of people in the village support him."

"Really?"

"Yes. I believe this morning was a pro duck shun of mass."
 

Ashleyne

Queen of Rainbows
Joined
Apr 19, 2014
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534
Single Perpetrator

I place a foot through the yellow plasma of the teleport machine. At this moment, thanks to my hacking skills, over 4 million replicas of me are stepping out from every teleport machine across the globe.

My replicas have 10 hours to gather their weapons. Then they'll start the blood baths, schools, super markets, fair grounds. The last person they'll kill is themselves, and I'll live on as the single greatest mass murderer in history.
 

Coast

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Jun 2, 2016
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239
Trade Offs

We sculpt with the same energies, but where he expands, I deflate.

Soon he seethes with corded muscle and animal rage.

I am skeletal, yet I resonate. When I clench my fist, the knuckles crackle and spark.

He lashes out ponderously and I counter violently. Power heaves through my emaciated body.

He cartwheels across the field, thirty yards on the fly.

"You spend energy to gain mass," I sigh, "It's not magic."
 

johnnyjet

Western PA High Tech Country Boy
Joined
Nov 11, 2011
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1,453
Location
Pennsylvania
Pasta Surprise

Antonia's favorite story was Strega Nona. She loved how the village overflowed with pasta. Pasta was her favorite food.

One day she told her Grandma Philomena about the pasta story.

"I can make lots of pasta, too."

"You make the best pasta, Grandma."

Her Grandma wanted to make Antonia happy, so she made lots and lots of pasta.

To this day they are still trying to eat their way out of her house.
 

Dan Jones

Free Omar!
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Here, Now
Cuckoo

Lord Umberleigh’s stinking breath gurgles beyond my chamber door. He thinks I’m ripe for sticking his seed in me again, creating another wretched soul for his inbred army.

I glance to the open window, stained linen curtains still flapping from his exit. I smile, rubbing my belly, imagining it quickening. This one isn’t Umberleigh’s. It’ll fight against the old bastard, not for him.

This child will set me free. Me and all my sisters.
 
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