AUGUST 2020 75-Word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO BREN G!

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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 2020 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, 23 August 2020
Voting ends at 11:59 pm GMT, 28 August 2020


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:

PROVERBS


Genre:

STEAMPUNK



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,
as long as it doesn't involve the author explaining the plot




** Please do not use the "Like" button in this thread! **
 
Proverbs 10:12 - Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins

Cries of abhorrence became muted by the hammer blows to the laboratory door.

He ignored the barrage, ignored their blinkered vision.

Before him, she gleamed in the gaslight, silver filigree lace dress, blue garnet inlaid eyes, golden threaded tresses; his beloved wife.

Steam pressure rose and a myriad of cogs whirred. Her life returned. She reached out to cup his cheek and gently wipe away a solitary tear.

“Solomon?”

For love, he’d sinned.

“My, Naamah.”
 
The Engraver and the Mechaniman

"Why would a mechaniman want its forehead engraved?”
It signs, My business, and hands me a note.
I read the message.
”Yes, I’ll help you.”

When I finish, the mechaniman caresses the engraving. It stands and tries to pay.
“No charge,” I say. Thank you, it signs, and leaves.
I remember this machine from the newspaper – it alone survived an attack on freed mechanimen.
I consider the note: If Slavery Isn’t Wrong, Nothing is Wrong.
 
The Farquarson’s Excursion

The family of nine boarded the luxury shuttle of the London-Vienna Steam Tube Company.

They sat and soon felt themselves propelled, using steam pressure, at high velocity down the 900 mile tunnel toward tonight’s operatic performance by the Vienna Automata.

“We’re late!” the mother exclaimed. “I am exceedingly distressed.”

“Fear not madam,” replied the attendant. “Our velocity is positively relativistic, we will, in fact, arrive early. You see a glitch in time saves nine.”
 
Flying high

Once, any boot touching the Noblesse Oblige's deck had at least a knighthood inside it. Or maybe the courtesan of nobility. Officers and passengers, blue blood everywhere, her gilded gasbag pronouncing 'aristocratic'.

But trade and riches had displaced quality, even the captain born the wrong side of the blanket. Without even the advantage of ability that an over-promoted commoner might have, of ability, being stupid and brutal.

Half an oaf is generally ill bred.
 
GETTING STONED


Convoluted, they called it. So what! Those investors’ll never make Chad ashamed of his conception.

Steam rises, forcing the cylinder through the plum. He leans in, poised for the stone to erupt from the top.

Pew! The stone assaults his tonsils. He gags, thumping his chest. From his throat, cough, the stone shoots, hitting the glass wall.

The crack splinters to other walls, webs crowding his transparent ceiling. His invention really brings the house down.
 
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DUMMY UP

"Gauges active, furnace hot, launch imminent"

I laughed. Yeah, I know the drill... sit tight, shut up, buckle in and smile for the "photographimajig".

It's always the same. Silly warpaint on my cheeks. Those meters read "null", levers are just stickers, the knobs do nothing...

And nobody wishes me good luck... just the ruddy machine!

"Pistons engaged!"

I gripped tight and smirked at the Mechanist through the pothole. All but in a day's-

"-wwwoooOOOOSH"
 
Falling Hurts Least Those Who Fly Low

Daphyne, wings tucked, spun on the granite spire. Before her heart could flutter, Kontras landed beside her.
Tell me you primed it!”
Kontras nodded, a curl at his lips.
They looked back. The Imperion airship, muted bronze in the dawn light, looked indestructible.
Not for long.
Daphyne grabbed his hand. “Remember, no soaring! Short hops.”
Kontras winked, as morning kissed the clouds below.
Daphyne slapped his cheek, then dived.
Kontras waited for the explosion.
 
Proverb 1:20

“We cannot stand by and watch children suffer as they work the steam generators. How many have to burn before we do something?” Bathsheba looked up.

Two hot air balloons stretched a banner across the sky: Free the unwanted ones.

She hoped it would work to stop the suffering.

Mayor Obediah’s walking stick tapped the ground as he moved unflappable towards her. He stopped in front and smiled. His eyepiece glistened.
 
A Sandsail with a Flaw

Grunk looked at his prize. A decade of searching. Countless friends lost.

The legendary sandsail was his. Unfortunately it was covered in off-white house-paint after being used as a makeshift lean-to by its former owner.

Still, it worked. And with its help he could be home to see his family in a week.

It was like his grandfather always told him. "A diamond with a flaw is better than a common stone that is perfect."
 
Words of Wisdom I Wish I’d Heard Sooner

Read the Fireman’s manual.
Fired up too fast, the engine won’t last.
If the water’s too low, the boiler could blow.
Steam performs better under pressure than you do.
Remember PEBTAF: Problem Exists Between Tender And Firebox.
It only takes a moment for an uphill slog to transform into a brisk career
Good brakes save heartaches.
Bailing is not failure. Failure is not knowing when to bail.

Finally, from experience:
Stoker control left, break right.
 
You Complete Me

Joseph pushed the button behind the dog’s ear. Its piston thumped and gears whirred as it barked and regarded him lovingly - but something was missing.

He removed a cog from his own shoulder and secured it atop the dog’s rump.

Joseph’s left arm now hung uselessly, but the dog’s tail wagged with joy!

He’d have to scavenge far for another cog, but gave it no mind. For a mechadog is a mechaman’s best friend.
 
The system goes online on August 4th...

He finished burnishing the rust and the figure gleamed.

“There, our recycled combat golem, by dawn he’ll be ploughing.”

“You sure about this? Some of these old machines can be hard to control”

“That’s just the bad workman blaming his tools”

They filled the hatch with charcoal and soon the steam pressure rose, the creature twitched, then turned it’s red eyes upon them .......

By daybreak all humans within five miles had been slaughtered.
 
A Technical Problem

Windicott Thracemon, Galvanic Artificer to the Crown, tossed an escapement into a distressingly expanding pile of discards. The Royal Automaton lay in pieces on the floor of his workshop. At the heart of the problem was a single toothed wheel, covered with rust, which was no longer able to travel the correct path through the machine's torturous components.

"It's like they say," Thracemon muttered to himself. "You can't teach an old cog new tracks."
 
"The Victorian da Vinci"

Charles Watson IV rode through the smoky streets of London in his steam-powered carriage, waving and smiling at the adoring crowds that flanked him. The mechanical horses neighed huskily.

He'd come from a long line of inventors, he thought: the First, with his golden songbird; his grandfather, with his miniature fireworks; his father, with his--What did he create? Nothing, he supposed, as did everyone.

Charles Watson IV's clockwork heart raced. Perhaps ignorance really is bliss.
 
On the Royal Train
‘Great improvement, this electrificated engine,’ commented Albert, as he and his wife boarded the Banchory train.

‘Indeed,’ she replied. ‘Even mother has commended it.’

‘A pity the line doesn’t come further up the valley.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps all the way to Braemar?’

She frowned. ‘No. Not to Braemar. The line would get too close to the castle. A station at Ballater would be convenient. But,’ she sighed, ‘Rome was not built in a day.’
 
I remember it well….

The raven descended through the mist.

Steam puffed from my ears. I hastily adjusted my midriff burner, aghast at such rudity.

Queen Victoria is dead!” it croaked, “Plague is everywhere! Albert has taken charge!

I bowed. “Your orders?

Summon your fellow mechanicals from the mills, the homunculi from their sweatshops, the golems from the pits!” it cried, “We march on London to end this tyranny! Democracy shall be reborn! When worms turn, even empires shake.”
 
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Steam and Mirrors
“You swear it Archie?”

“I promise! I’ll wait for you, my love.”

The Stack Music played. Bella leaned out the dirigible’s window for a tearful last look. It puffed and lurched upward, carrying her away.

Seated, she smiled wickedly knowing his lockbox was secured in her luggage. That was too easy. He only has himself to blame though, he likes honey and I’m the sweetest thorn.

Archie would spend his life waiting for love’s return.
 
Steam Train’s a-comin’

Fenn’s evil twin was destroying Parkerville. It used to be a great place for families, but now the drinking, gambling and street fights were driving the good folks away.

However the Iron Horse was coming to town. Fenn’s brother wanted to build a bar at the new station, but Fenn planned to thwart him by becoming mayor and building a family oriented establishment instead.

His campaign slogan: Good Fenn Says Make Good Neigh Bars.
 
How many mad scientists does it take to change a light bulb?

Wolfgang F Hanns (inventor extraordinaire) was flummoxed. He had been working on this cursed contraption for far too long! Unperturbed, he decided it was time to summon the family.

Endlessly his sons, brothers, uncles and cousins toiled together.
The laboratory never still, until, eureka!

Tiny twisting copper pipes traced a dizzying path, to a tiny incandescent point of pure brightness, suspended in a glass orb.

Proving once and for all ‘many Hanns make light work.’
 
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