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It was a dark and ion-stormy night...
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12-09-2005, 03:22 PM
F&SF Competition #71, if anyone's interested. It's towards the bottom. You can email entries. 100 word max. Deadline, Dec. 15.
Rumor has it they're not getting much. --cranefly http://www.sfsite.com/fsf/2005/competition0512.htm[/url]
I'm nobody's pony.
12-09-2005, 03:34 PM
Extra points if you can include DOOM in your story.
Alright, I'm going back to writing for porn mags...
Shadow boxing the apocalypse
12-10-2005, 09:40 AM
Here's the entry I submitted:
"It was a dark and ion-stormy night, and the stalwart crew of the NSS White Hat trembled as the badly underestimated weapons of the Doomian fleet assailed their underpowered, overworked and exhausted vessel. "Shields!" snapped Captain Valiant, straining to appear confident and in control, yet knowing that the impending demise of those all of those good and faithful men, women and sentient constructs under her command would torment her conscience for eternity. "There must be a way," she thought. "There's always another option…"
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
12-11-2005, 07:52 PM
I thought we were doomers... or doomeranians...
doomites? doomese? doomaholics?
Shadow boxing the apocalypse
12-12-2005, 06:14 AM
I thought Doomian sounded more properly ominous that Doomlettes.
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
12-12-2005, 05:37 PM
Yes, I think Doomian works better in the context.
Right now I'm trying to discover a context where Doomerang would work. Maybe if we all someday go to Australia... --cranefly
I'm nobody's pony.
12-13-2005, 09:16 PM
Remember, December 15 is the deadline, so get those neurons churning.
Here's my hundred Wordsworth (can't be a Longfellow here): It was a dark and ion-stormy night when Davy Crockett topped Mount Highest on Ceres. Brushing electrons from his coonskin helmet, he lifted his trusty musketazer in triumph -- prematurely, because suddenly he was floating up out of his saddle. Dag nab it! He’d forgotten to buckle in again. His horse Lucky neighed in alarm, then launched itself for the rescue. At times like this, Davy wished he’d never found that time machine in the fort whose name he never could remember. But his attentions now shifted to Lucky who, rotating while approaching all too fast, had lifted its tail... --cranefly
I'm nobody's pony.
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