(August 31st, 2003, 5:58 am)
Bah, writers block. I might as well cast these into the Group Writing forum where they might be some use. Pick any (for some reason they all seem kind of similar), post a couple paragraphs continuation.
* * *
She had been watching the sun set for 3 days now. Against the sea's photoluminescence it seemed unearthly, or perhaps too earthly; the surface reflection combined the colors into what was more gray than anything else -- so. A third shadow, white, between the colorful first two. She set the glass down and they met with a click. Beads of condensation ran to the table as she pulled her fingers away, and 5, something said, tau E-407, full simulation.
But she'd learned to ignore that part of herself a long time ago.
* * *
Snakes, phonograph lines traced outward through the night, dividing darkness from darkness, above from below. She watched them for minutes, really, and her eyes stung.
Procifia Station has been omnipresent for a long time.
Once, when she was younger, she'd sit on the edge until the wind numbed her ankles completely, playing with the arials, dipping a finger into the currents and seeing the colors swirl, little fractals, fragments of a hologram rose against the night. Now she just watched, and the unaltered lines drew along their straight paths without intervention, like an electrostatic microphone hiss, a stark, lonely perfection.
* * *
Cygna III rotates exactly once per minute.
He is standing on the observation panel, looking downward, looking at the stars millions of miles below. At 10:28:23, the Earth floats past. At 10:28:42, the sun is breifly full-on and overpowering, and the panel dims to compensate -- a white circle surrounded by blackness passes beneath first one tennis shoe, then the other, then the stars reappear. At 10:29:23, the Earth floats past.
(An argrophobe's nightmare. The universe whirls around beneath and the only thing that keeps you from falling into it is 20-inch plastic. The ground is close but beneath it is an infinite drop, no other solidity in a trillion trillion miles.)
He scuffs the surface, seeing if he can smudge it, though he knows he can't.
"You know, you can't smudge it." She is standing in the doorway, hair backlit with green light from the hall; to him, in the dimness, it makes her look like anime`. "The others are gone."
"Yeah. I know."
And now she is coming towards him, touching a hand to his shoulder. He remembers kissing her here (well, there, against the spinward wall), but this time they just look down at the sun, and the earth, and the sun, and the earth.
"Funny," she says.
And then she is gone.
(September 16th, 2003, 7:56 pm)
All of the sudden, the steady lines began to mitigate amongst themselves, as if having a secret conversation that only swirling lines can have. Then, in an instance, a hole opened up and a pink fuzzy creature popped out. He said "Hi" in a voice so low that that black dude who played king pin in that horrible Daredevil movie would have sounded like Shirley Temple in comparison. He then vanished, and she spent the rest of her life searching for a meaning to the occurance in vain.
(September 25th, 2003, 6:09 am)
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