March 2019: 75 Word Writing Challenge

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WARNING...

A message on our ship read:

“Did you feel it? Take off your shoes and bury your feet. Now, do you? Close your eyes and block out all other senses. Concentrate and you will feel the constant rhythm. That visitor, that beat represents the lifeblood on this strange land. As long as life exists here, it cannot only be seen or heard but be felt as well. Remember that before holding our creatures hostage.”
 
Hell Hath No Fury

Ba-boom

What foolish God thought these monkeys could be trusted? They looked to the stars, searching for answers, seeking their future; all while trampling across the earth, carelessly destroying everything underfoot.

Her blood boiled.

BA-BOOM

Venting her fury, the earth trembled as fire surged into the skies, toppling towers, humbling ambition. Mountainous waves soon washed away the detritus. Heads bowed, they soon grovelled for forgiveness.

Gaia relented, reshaping the earth, offering a fresh start.

Ba-boom
 
Voice of the Pulsar

Pulsar PSR B193+24, previously known for its regular cycle, got the attention of the world when its pulse pattern suddenly changed. Everyone thought "coded message", and so the cryptographers went to work.

Months later many of them got together to compare notes.

"Gibberish!"

"Nonsense!"

One still small voice said, "No. It's a clear message directed at us."

The other, more experienced cryptographers scoffed. "What do you think it says?"

"We're coming back."
 
Creation
In the beginning there was a vacuum of nothing, a void of emptiness. It started with vibration, humming, a pulsating light, colour seeped in.

Shapes took form, a dew drop fell spreading moisture, creating vast oceans.
On land a seed took root, vegetation grew.

A single cell formed in the ocean, awareness awoke, multiplied and spread throughout the oceans and onto the land, constantly evolving became more.

Life began and a world was born.
 
Time to move on.

So bored!

Beep........beep........beep.......

Mechanical blow......mechanical suck.....blow......suck......blow......suck....

Christ, those machines become annoying.

Soooooooo bored!

Look at me, lying there - just a glorified pulse.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Hold up, is that me?

No. Damn it! Must be Martha next door.
“Martha, is that you?”
“Yes siree, I’m outta here, see ya ‘round...”
And off she goes, lucky duck.

Well I guess there’s always tomorrow.....
 
Going on a Bug Hunt


Beep .......... Beep .......... Beep .......... Beep ..........

Stephens heart was beating rapidly. Sweat slowly trickled down her face. She crept slowly in the dim, dank, claustrophobic space of the drainage tunnel. Holding her rifle out in front, the torchlight bobbed slightly as she moved. The pulse of the motion tracker beat regularly.

Beep .......... Beep .......... Beep .......... Beep ..........

They'd made their nest under the offworld outpost in the drainage system. They were down here somewhere.

Beep ......... Beep ....... Beep .....

Something approached.
 
Game Over, Man!

Having the gun torn from my grasp woke me with a start.

The research team stood clustered around my cot. Professor Krantz gestured to the weapon held by technician Brandt. “Well?”

I sat up. “It’s an M-forty-one-A pulse rifle. As used by the Colonial Marines.”

Blank faces.

I’m the flutter in the heartbeat of reality, able to make manifest items from my dreams…

A long, wet, hiss came from somewhere behind them.

…and nightmares.
 
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At Least I Didn't Mention a Bloody Mary

A long time ago, technology made it dangerous for my kind. One had to be cunning, crafty, and very careful.

But now? Centuries of peace have led to laziness. Now, when their pulse scanners show that only my meal was here, they'll shrug and call it another suicide, or find a convenient scapegoat.

It's better this way.

Ah, here someone comes. Been drinking, I see. No matter - I enjoy the occasional brandied Alexander.
 
Home

After grandfather died

she heard his echoing heartbeat

thrumming

from the sun-bright meadow,

a drum beating far underground

where they’d laid him

in the cold clay.

Over decades

other hearts joined his

until the collective pulse of sound

swelled

like hooves

to stampede her.

Disquieted,

she endured

until alone and weary, she rambled to the dusk-muted meadow,

a curve to her lips,

surrendering,

letting the rhythm of breath and blood

sing her home.
 
From the Notes of an Anatomical Artist, circa 1889
At the heart, my ink ran dry. Urged by an inexplicable spark of inspiration, I dipped the new brush, bristled with the invaluably fine spines of amsymbia nuntius - of which species X shares the same genus - into the petri dish containing X's blood.
Whilst applying, it steamed on the brush; a reaction between the spines and species X, perhaps? The now pulsing blood spread, coiling, into a rude, helix-like design upon the page.
 
No Need To Panic.

There's one. Across the room. Mingling. Pretending to be human. Pretending he's not alien.

Don't want to startle him. I move across and lean in close. “No fuss now, let's do this nice and slow.” Sudden panic in his eyes.

I casually take his wrist, my fingers finding just the right spot. Now he knows I'm certain. He looks around. He's thinking of running.

“Don't. Just come with me. Quietly. I haven't got one either.”
 
Cacophony


“Ambient!” my Captain shouted. “We’re hearing a cacophony!”

Ignoring his sarcasm, I continued. “That is the rhythmic sound of fluids – blood, if you will – passing through the body.”

“ Blood? Body? Mister, what are you talking about? We’re investigating unusual signals coming from that planet below!”

Sometimes my Captain can be a challenging. “Those sounds emanate from a living entity, Captain.”

The Captain studied the orb. In unusual profundity, he declared...

“I’ll be damned!”
 
An Offering

I feel his pulse, the rhythm of the boy’s heart, as I hold his wrist.

‘Steady, lad,’ I murmur.

‘I’m scared.’

‘Don’t be. It’s a great honour to be offered to the blood god.’

He nods, and goes freely into the dark.

The lie has become too easy. Screams echo from the cave.

A small price, I think, for our lives.

Another lie, I fear. Eventually, the cost will become too much to bear.
 
Green Manure

Professor Pea saved the world.

As over-population gave rise to dwindling food resources, minds atrophying with the banal reality TV, Facebook, Twitter; the 15 minuters of YouTube.

His accidental discovery, Lentils Enhanced Genetically Unified Multi Environment Seeds produced car-sized soybeans, providing exceptional nutritional value, multiple flavours from meat, to fish to fruit.

He sold it to the world for peanuts, luck like a four-leaf clover saved humanity.

Until the next time…
 
Frustrating Guests

“Watch this.”
Gedora touched the mummy and light started pulsing in its chest. After a moment the chest started pumping and the ancient corpse started to writhe.
“Stop that!”
“Awww, you’re no fun, Dave.” Gedora touched the mummy again and it fell back, still once more.
“Look, you just can’t go around resurrecting people like that.”
“Why? Death is simple to overcome. My planet stopped it centuries ago,” Gedora sulked.
“Just don’t. It’s not… polite.”
 
There is music wherever there is rhythm, as there is life wherever there beats a pulse. - Igor Stravinsky

"Sir, I've found the Major!" I felt his neck. "He's still alive. There's a strong pulse."

Captain Picatan approached, frowning. "After three weeks? Remove his exosuit."

Major Joram was commanding Outpost Kappa when the alien insectoids attacked. There'd been no contact since.

Discarding the exosuit revealed the Major's whole body pulsing and rippling like a windswept lake.

Then...

I couldn't keep down my breakfast as his flesh ripped apart, spewing out rivers of insectoid larvae.
 
YOUNG LOVE

The late summer night was magical, the kind they write songs about.
The moon was full and so close the lovers could almost reach out and touch it.
A soft breeze cooled the night air, a Johnny Mathis love song played softly in the background.

As they strolled arm in arm they paused in front of their dream home, two hearts beating as one.
"That new Ford pickup would look bitchin' in our driveway!"
" CUT ! "
 
The Life and Pulse of the World
Into chaos a code is spoken.

A’s, C’s, G’s, and T’s come together in complex meaningful ways. Each group finding both independence and dependence. Simple develops into complex. Complex expresses in self-preserving ways. Competition develops and grows in ferocity. Ferocity forces yet greater self-expression. Greater self-expression evolves greater complexity. The world has a pulse. Life begins it is meaningful.

The coder surveys all that has developed. Behold, it is very good.
 
For What It’s Worth

Old Bampa shuffled alongside, breathed a tired laugh. “Used to come here to watch the seals.”

Endry stared at bottles and bags choking in the off-white foam. He couldn’t even imagine life here anymore. He fell to his knees, digging through plastics, finding long forgotten sand, and bit back tears when Her distress surged in.
Her final breath.

The wind and waves fell flat, silent.
Dead.

“For what it’s worth,” Bampa sniffled, “I’m sorry.”
 
DUST

She woke in silence. The deep, steady pulse of the world had failed.

She ran outside, feet bare to the dry, gritty soil, skin-to-skin with a now sterile planet.

People left their houses at her wailing.

“We've killed another world. We’ll have to leave.”

No-one argued. She was their prophetess.

They packed their goods, loaded their silver ships.

Mounting the gangway she glanced back at the dead world. Would mankind never learn?
 
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