Sunday 18 September 2011

Trying something different.

The writer, Jane Espenson has writing sprints: she writes solidly for an hour.

I wanted to try the same, but experiment with something different, something fresh.  It couldn't be something that I was working on already, because well, that's secret.

So I sat down, finished the other Important Thing that I was working on, and thought what the hell.  Lets have some fun and see where we go.

So enjoy the ride: (warning, tiny swear word - you have been warned).  I didn't have a plan, I just wrote.

                                                                                  Portal


Before…

She wasn’t here.  I had searched the whole of the place and she wasn’t here.  Xira was, though, and I knew that if the portal didn’t open soon, I would die here.
       Here.  In an undersea research facility.  Thousands of fathoms (whatever the hell they were) below sea level.

       I had missed her.  She must have been here, because this was where they sent me.  But I had missed her.

       The facility's scanners, unfortunately, had not missed me.  A security team was looking for me and when you're thousands of fathoms under the sea, there’s only a certain number of places where you can hide.  And I was running out of them.

       “Marek.”  
       The voice came from the facility's communications network.  Patched in to either my location or the whole of the facility to find me.

       Oh come on, where is it? Where is it?
       “Marek, tell me how you open it.”
       Come on, come on…
       “I’ll go easy on you…”
      
       Then I felt it, the familiar welcome vibrations in my feet, the signal that the portal was about to open up beneath my feet so that I could leave.

       Then I was thrown to the –

Now.

Cra-ack!!!

       I hit the ground, prone position, and managed to break my fall so I didn’t damage my good looks, my extremities, or worse, my legs.

       Check.

The first thing that I do when I land anywhere is check to see if I’ve got my clothes.

Of course I have.  Why wouldn't they?  Warm clothes: a heavy dark green jumper, thick, dark green shirt, dark grey trousers and CAT boots.

It doesn’t matter where I land, I’ll always have the warm clothes on first.  Because you can’t get it wrong.  Its no good landing in a snowstorm wearing a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts and your flip flops.

       Because then whilst you might look cool, your survival chances are ZERO.

They let me keep my clothes.  Again that could either be a good thing or a bad one.  Your clothes say a lot about you.  The locals can either think you’re an alien or (worse) the enemy.  Either way, the stranger is always treated with suspicion and hostility.

The stuff people volunteer for.  Its better than death, they said.  Not strictly having been dead, I couldn't really argue the point.  This was my fourth portal and there was still no sign of Kuresh, and thankfully no sign of the Dark, either.

       Look.

I had landed in a forest and the temperature was dropping fast.  So I was glad that I was reasonably dressed.

       I got to my feet, thankful that I had been just bruised and nothing had been broken.  

       They said that they would keep the jumps short to increase the chances of finding Kuresh.  They would lock on to recent portal energy sources so that I might find other people.   Preferably her. 

       Darkness was falling.  This was crap.  The forest was deep and the trees were so tall that they rubbed noses with the sky.  Bottom line: I couldn’t see shit and I needed to track footprints otherwise I’d end up going in the wrong direction, and then where would I be?  Screwed.

       “Bastard.  Now get me home.”
       “Xira???”

       She stared at me.
       “Get.  Me.  Home.”  Pause  “Now.”

       I automatically started backing away as she started to advance.  Bad tactics, don’t give ground.  Even when you’re not quite sure where you are.

       “I know that you can do it Reyas.”
       I shook my head.  “I don’t have any control over…”

       She launched.  I moved, but not fast enough, I was spinning and falling and then pain seared through my arm.

       And then we were bathed in light, and it seemed to me that a thousand rifles were pointed at us.

       Xira automatically put a hand up to shield her eyes.
       “Who’s there?” she asked, but not loudly.  She was talking to me, not them.
       “Great,” I said “You’ve just alerted the locals.”

 (Copyright 2011 - All rights reserved)

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