Gods Out Of Men – #FlashFiction

When the coffee runs out, she drinks tea instead. It’s bad, overly floral and cloying. She drinks it anyway, hips bumped up against the chipboard kitchen counters, sink at her back, eyes on the peeling desk on the other side of the cabin.

Uploading… 65%

The screen on the computer flickers for a second before steadying.

Uploading… 66%

She sips the tea, holds the liquid in her mouth and grimaces when she swallows.

Uploading… 66%

It will be another hour at least before the system is up and running. Until then she will have to be patient. The screen flickers again, blanks out temporarily.

She holds her breath.

Uploading… 67%

She keeps the breath in her lungs until they burn.

Uploading… 67%

She lets it out slowly, carefully, so not to break the internet connection’s concentration. The screen stays clear and she closes her eyes. It would be easier if she could leave the system to do its thing and come back when the download was complete. Outside was not an option though. Not even in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to run.

They’d still locked her in.

Besides the disgusting tea she’d found in the back of a cupboard, the ancient set up on the desk, and the towers stacks of her notes, the cabin itself was mostly bare. There was no bathroom, only a lime green mop bucket and a damp roll of toilet paper. She hadn’t decided if the lack of food was encouragement to work faster, or an oversight of her captors. Unfortunately, the wavering broadband connection dictated the timeframe, and fourteen hours in, her stomach was threatening to turn in on itself.

Uploading… 68%

 

She’d tried sleeping but there was no bed, no chairs, and a scritch, scritch of tiny feet scurrying beneath the floorboards.

Uploading… 69%

She’d checked for gaps in the floorboards, for holes in the walls. Logic told her that there was no way out, and no way in. Logic didn’t let her sleep though.

Uploading… 70%

Uploading… 71%

Uploading… 85%

 

She blinked at the screen, checked she wasn’t mistaken.

Uploading… 86%

 

Her next mouthful of tea was cold. It didn’t help the taste but at least explained the jump in progress. She’d lost time.

She dumped the mug on the floor.

Uploading… 86%

Her mentor called the coding demonic, but he’d been overly conservative in his approach to the future of technology. War was a race, and she just happened to be the one who worked out the winning hand. Every nation wanted control over the others, they might claim to work only for their own protection, but reality dictated that it was more than that. She could take control of every government system and hand over the keys to a single person. That was why they’d taken her.

Uploading… 87%

 

She picked up the closest pad, felt the grooves in the paper where she’d pressed to hard with her pen. Burning them would not keep them safe, copies had already been made, and killing herself had turned out to be trickier than anticipated. They were going to take this power from her no matter what she did.

Uploading… 88%

 

If she had more time, she could have written an antidote. Something to consume her programme before it could get its claws in anywhere important. Half the coding was already dancing behind her eyes, but there was no way to implement it. Interrupting the upload would not end well for her, she’d been shown an example of that already.

Uploading… 89%

 

They could have got someone else to implement her programme. She had been so helpful in leaving clear instructions on how to do so in her arrogance. She was the quickest option though, the most efficient.

It was her idea after all.

Uploading… 90%

 

She’d done the maths on the outcomes. Her best estimate left around ten percent of the human population alive three months from the current date. Dissenters would always find a way to fight back, even against impossible odds.

Uploading… 91%

 

How would they kill her? Her fingers curled and the notes under her hand crumpled. She wasn’t sure if she should hope for a quick death or not.

Uploading… 92%

 

The screen flickered and a bang beneath the desk announced something blowing up. The room went dark.

The locks on the door clunked open.

‘On your knees! Hands behind your head! DO NOT MOVE!’

She follows the orders. Laces her fingers into her hair.

‘Get the back up going so we can see in here.’

Footsteps move around the outside of the cabin, followed by a loud click, and the whirling groan of a generator grumbling into life.

Uploading… 92%

 

She flinches at the sudden brightness, the impossibility, it should have failed. She watches the pixels turn to static and then reform.

Uploading… 54%

 

Her stomach rumbled.

‘Here.’

A gun presses against the back of her skull. A slow trickle of sweat runs down her spine.

‘Food.’

A bag drops in front of her, the gun retreats, door closes. She waits. The lock turns.

Uploading …54%

 

She rises slowly, brushes the grit from her knees.

Fifty-four percent, two hours at most. Then she would be making gods out of men.

She reaches for the bag.

No, she decided. She wouldn’t be making gods out of men. They would not be taking this power from her. She would make sure of that.

If We Were Having Coffee: Novel Redrafts And Flash Fiction Competition #amwriting

It’s been a while since I’ve written a Weekend Coffee Share post, months in fact, but I’m currently supposed to writing an entry for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Competition so this seemed like the perfect way to procrastinate.

Project StatsI signed up late for Camp NaNoWriMo this month. At the start of the month I was debating whether or not I was going to have a crack at it and decided not to because I tend to find that writing purely for word-count goals make it even harder for me to get myself into the right frame of mind for writing. That said, having  a goal in mind does help drive me forward on projects so when I started rewriting my Shadow Dawn novel around the 10th July, I decided that I’d set myself a 30,000 word goal for the month and use Camp NaNoWriMo to help me hit that target. I’ve got more time to focus on my writing this month as  I’m still waiting for the result of my last AAT Level 3 exam which means I haven’t got any studying to do. However, other social engagements are taking up most of my weekends so my current progress has been limited to what I can write during my lunch hour at work. Hence the pitiful looking bar chart above.

As I mentioned at the start of this post, I’m also taking part in the NYC Midnight’s Flash Fiction competition. The deadline for round one is 4am (GMT) so I’ve got the rest of this afternoon to sort out my 1,000 words story and submit it, even if the heat is making it almost impossible for me to get on with anything. I’d rather melt than write at the moment so I’m hoping hammering out a post might encourage me to hammer out a thousand words of fiction in a few minutes time. I can easily write a thousand words in a hour so a first draft should be straight forward, I just wish the weekend wouldn’t slip past me so quickly.

*Note: It’s now almost five in the evening as I’ve been procrastinating from writing this post as well. I really need to learn to just get on with things.*

dverselogo

Tomorrow will mark DVerse Poets Pub coming back off their two week break, something I’ve been looking forward to since their first day of absence. For the last fortnight I’ve been desperate for poetry prompt so I can’t wait until Monday’s Quadrille night.

I’m also trying to work out how to take my poetry to the next level on this poem. When going through the stats on this site I realize that I only reach about fifty views per post most of the while so I’d really like to start bumping that number up. I suppose the upside to that total is that my view total stays quite close to my likes total so I can see that most people who read the poems, go on to liking them. I just need to find a way of getting more people reading them.

Other than that there isn’t much going on this weekend. I hope yours have been slightly more productive than mine and I will now go off and get this flash fiction piece written for NYC Midnight before I find a way to procrastinate right up to the deadline. All the best for the next week and thanks for reading.

wordswag_15073188796611453091488.png

Second Drafts, Conundrum Chapters and Troublesome Titles

IMG_0966.JPG
Ilia

The darkness in the tunnels below Turnkay’s Keep was complete and even with her heightened sense, Ilia was struggling to find her way. Above her the storm was still battering at the walls and even deep in the tunnels she could hear the whistling of stray winds whispering towards her. She felt the hairs on her arms rising as she shuffled forward, sliding one foot in front of the other carefully, never taking her hand from the wall. She felt the condensation clinging to her fingers, cold and wet, coating her skin and making her bones ache as the feeling leeched from her nerves. The sensible voice in the back of her head told her that the safe thing to do would be to turn around and go back to Tara and the guards, to leave well enough alone whatever magic was brewing in the bowels of the Witch Moors. She blotted out the sensible voice and focused on the pull. It was faint now. During the battle it had called to her like a roaring bonfire in the middle of an open field. Huge, alive and angry. Now in the calm it had dimmed to the smallest of flickers, darting and dancing as she dragged herself towards it. She didn’t need anyone to point out that she was walking right into a trap; she’d worked that out for herself the moment the magic had failed to fade completely. For a spell to continue it had to be fed which meant there must still be a power source somewhere in the Keep, or more accurately, beneath the Keep. Ilia doubted that such a power source would be left unguarded.

 

So chapters one through to seven how now been brought up to second draft status. I’m amazed by how much fresh writing I’m actually doing for this book. The first draft is looking more and more like random doodles on a bit of paper rather than an actual manuscript.

Chapters five and six were particularly tricky to write and I’m not entirely sure why. In the end I just had to sit down and force myself to get them onto paper. What’s strange is that I’ve found Tara to be the most difficult person to write. The major flaw of the first draft was that despite her being the ‘main character’, she barely did anything and barely appeared in the story. She was the same person at the beginning as she was at the end. The main challenge of the second draft will be resolving that issue.

On another note I’ve been debating changing the title of the book. While I love ‘Darkened Daughter’ I’m worried about this presenting the book as a girl only read. I’m starting to lean towards ‘Shadow Dawn’ as a better choice overall for the book. Tara may be the primary character but I want Nicholas to play a pretty equal role in the plot so picking a more neutral title seems like a good idea.

And that is pretty much all the update there is for ‘Darkened Daughter/Shadow Dawn’. Please do feel free to comment and let me know what you think of the title, I always love hearing from my readers.

Until next time.