Unfinished works hopefully for now

When i first started learning how to write, I thought I was top shit. I've never felt so wrong in my life. After writing for some time, not only have i started to hate my writing, but i've started to stagnate. Hopefully this blog will re-mediate that, but only time will tell. In the mean while, enjoy some unfinished crap.


The Astronaut

Richard was an astronaut. Well, in spirit at least. Truth be told he had never been to space. They didn't let 10 year olds in space.
That's what his Science teacher told him. That didn't stop richard, though. With an imagination that rivals einsteins he dares to dream, but with an education that couldn't compare, hes faced with reality again and again. But still richard persisted. He had been to space camp every year since the age of 7. Plus, He practically owned every book about space even if he didn't understand some of the words. His parents were just glad he wasn't like other ten year olds. You know the ones. Need i say more?

Luckily, it so happened that one day richards school was chosen to be accomodater of A science fair that just happened to be sponsered by Nasa.
So richard decides to enter. But he had no inkling of what to build. A bottle rocket would be too cliche, and he knew he was better than that, so with the help of His parents and The Neil armstrong figment of his imagination he decided that he would attempt something better.

Argos 13

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: “A woman abandons her friends and family for a life of solitude in outer space.” If there ever was a word best used to describe Anya, it was “deliberate.” At the age of 10 she chose to stop having birthday parties, at the age of 17 she chose to move out on her own and at the age of 28, she chose to drift in space on a solitary watch mission.  “I won’t be missed,” she told the recruiter from the Earth defense federation. She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t entirely right. There were no friends to miss her, but she had family; an estranged mother and a bitter sister. Though try as she may to deny the anguish and pain in her sisters bloodshot eyes that day, Anya knew she would be missed. There was nothing for her on that rock, though. Nothing she wanted atleast. She wasn’t going anywhere in life, and she didn’t want be as she would put, like those “frail women.” She didn’t want to get married to a man who only showed his love when the lights were off, and she certainly didn’t want to lose her so called golden years and all of its prospects by raising children who may or may not love her when she’s lost all sense of being.

To her the choice was the clearest thing she had ever realized in her existence, and all she had to do was spend 3 years on a space station for a reasonable sum of money. Money she was going to use to find herself when her midlife crisis kicked in. The Argos 13. That was her station. There were forty nine individuals just like her, forty nine other “heroes.” Well that’s what they were hailed as before they left, but looking back, Anya realized they were fools. Poor money grubbing fools that should’ve rejected this call to duty, but that was some time ago and as her mother always told her, “There’s no use longing for the past.”

She slouched in her seat at the helm of the command console. ”It’s a shame that old bat succumbed to her own warnings.” She whispered under her breath and recalled memories of her mother; flowing red hair and a vibrant smile. She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a folded up photo. The creases in it were beginning to ware away the image; a redheaded woman holding a baby as a man stood, smiling, beside her holding the hand of a toddler girl. She studied the photo intently, running her eyes over the people in the picture just as she had done every day for the first year. It was only during the second that regret began to fill her, but here she is almost done with her third year. She then tucked it away and stood from her chair.

Space blah blah blah(working title)

“Reality is a strange construct,” Farrah muttered. Her eyes were fixed on the fizzing liquid as it twirled in her glass. Her companion faced her and cocked it’s head. Their gaze met and she rolled her eyes. “Think of it like this, len.” Her companion caressed it’s forehead, as if fortelling how this conversation would go. “The me in the reflection of this space beer is me but at the same time, it’s not really me. Do you follow?”

“If by follow, you are asking whether I understand your pseudo-philosophical musings, then yes. I do, ‘follow’.

Her face soured and she gulped down her beverage.

“Ms. Farrah, We’ve spent the last two days waiting on this contact of yours to return to us, and as of this morning, I’ve calculated the chance of a betrayal to be up to 82%.”

“Wow that’s only a 20% difference from last time.” She motioned to a gruff man shining glasses behind the counter. “I’ll take another.”

“Are you not aware of the possible ramifications of a 20% increase?”

“The only thing I’m aware of are your lack of ____. Stop bombarding me with statistics.”

“Fine, I’ll stop, but I don’t suppose my stopping will protect the xeron district from possible bombardement of the axion forces within 2 cycles. Your father explicityly orde-.“ Lens voice was overpowered by the sheer force of farrahs fist knocking on the counter.

“My father what?” She turned to him. Her expression now reminiscent of a lioness. “He gave us an explicit order? Just like he explicitly raised me, or how he gave my mum an explicit beating?” She grabbed her newly filled glass and inhaled it’s contents. She then let out a hefty belch and placed the glass onto the marbled stained counter top. “My father was an explicit asshole, and I quite frankly could give a rats ass about his orders.”

Out of the corner of her eye, a figure beckoned to her. She tossed a few credits on the counter and hopped from the seat. “When we save the galaxy, we’re gonna do it my way. Come on now, It’s time to go.”