Well… I don’t want to jinx it… but this might be the time I break my Camp failure curse! At any rate, I’ve already written more by this point in July than I have in any of my other attempts in their entirety.
It’s not a guarantee, of course, and this is all in the middle of starting a crazy new schedule at work, but I’m feeling excited! It definitely helps that my sister has been choosing some awesome prompts, too.
They’re not in anything like a presentable state yet, of course, but I’m really happy with the bones of all of them so far. And if all goes as planned, you’ll be seeing some of the finished products in the next few months.
What about you guys? Anyone else participating in this Camp NaNo? How’s it going for you?
It’s been a week, and I’ve got responses to your prompts! Thanks to those of you who submitted! As promised, here’s some snippets from Tanner and Miranda’s adventures. I can’t confirm or deny if these are “cannon” per se… but they’re the sort of thing that might happen. We’ll see how many work their way into bigger pieces someday.
—
I was afraid to ask where Tanner had gotten the truck. The truck. The honest-to-goodness, Earth-made, antique, gas-burning, two-door, flatbed, ratting, rumbling hunk of metal that coughed and sputtered its way right out of the pages of history and down the street until it stopped right in front of the boarding house. I should have known I wouldn’t have to ask.
“I told you a few of these old beasts made it out to this end of the galaxy.” He sat in the driver’s seat, grinning ear to ear. I stood and stared at him and tried to figure out when and where he’d learned to drive stick.
When I finally found my tongue, I only managed one word: “Why?”
He cackled. “Because. Come on. Get in!” He leaned over and popped the door open with a rusty creak that would have sent any proper vehicle straight to the junkyard. And yet, I got in. And we spent the rest of the day cruising down the back roads of Halverston in a crazy, out of date contraption. And it was one of the most enjoyable things I’d done in years.
—
“I’m going to crash it.”
Those weren’t the sort of words you wanted to hear coming out of your copilot’s mouth. Not ever. But especially not when you were seconds away from being home safe. Not when you thought it was finally over.
Funny how they didn’t surprise me, though. It was the fact that I agreed with him that would have worried me if I’d had the time.
“Big explosion?” I asked. I was already reaching up to flip off the safeties and the dozen automated systems that would make our plan impossible. The cockpit shrieked in consternation.
“The biggest,” said Tanner. And he grinned.
“You’re sure it’ll work?”
“Nope. But I think it might, and that’s good enough for me.” He glanced over at me and winked. “Given the circumstances, you know.”
I snorted. “Fine. Good enough. Bail out in 3… 2… 1…”
—
“Please pass the salt.”
“I told you! I told you it was a terrible idea! I told you and you didn’t listen!”
We were running. People were shooting– at us. My carefully laid plan was strewn behind us in ruins, and somehow we’d managed to complete the job despite it all. All that was left now was getting out alive. And yelling at Tanner for getting us into this mess in the first place.
We skidded around a corner and crashed to a halt behind a couple of huge storage barrels. We panted. We gasped. We held our breath as our pursuers thundered by and didn’t see us.
I waited a good thirty seconds before laying into my brother again. Given that he was doubled over giggling, I don’t know how effective I was. I punched him in the shoulder in a vain attempt to make myself feel better.
“Since when do you put salt on anything!? You never do! That’s how you convinced me that freaking saying ‘please pass the salt’ was a good code phrase!”
He barely managed to get out his answer between bouts of hysterical laughter. “I know.” More laughter. “I know. I know. But–” And he started cackling so hard that I was sure he’d bust a rib. And it would serve him right. “But you wouldn’t believe how bland the food was.”
I’m at it again! Send me your writing prompts, and I’ll respond this time next week with a short bit of fiction inspired by your lovely words, pictures, scraps of music, etc. But! This time I’ve got an added twist: your prompts have to be simple– one picture, one piece of music, one word or phrase… and I have to respond with something set in Tanner and Miranda’s world.
Sound good? Bonus points if it’s not something that looks like it should easily relate to the shenanigans of brother/sister bounty hunters on a newly colonized planet.
Also, if you’re looking for a little bit of a challenge of your own, here’s a prompt for you! Feel free to respond or not, with fiction, non fiction, poetry, or whatever floats your boat.
Last week I asked for writing prompts and you guys delivered! Here’s the stories.
—
Is it supposed to make that sound?
Given that we lived on a border space station in the middle of nowhere, it was fitting that we opted for a robotic guard dog as opposed to the flesh and blood sort that put more of a drain on our limited resources. It wasn’t the cuddliest of options, but then, we didn’t need R-0ver to be cuddly. We just needed him to look fierce and help us scare off the occasional pirate gangs who assumed we’d be an easy target. We’d managed well enough on our own so far, but the last time had been a little closer than we’d wanted it to be, and when the traveling salesman came by with a discounted model, it seemed like a no-brainer.
At least, it did until 3am the next morning, when the eeriest squeaking filled our entire space station. And when your home is a tiny layer between you and the void, you are painfully aware of each and every weird noise it makes. So it was actually a sort of relief when the source of the metallic whine turned out to be our brand new R-0ver. We found him in a corner, looking sadder than it should have been possible for a robot to look, and the only way I can describe it is that he was crying. He perked up when he saw us, too. It was cute, sure, but I don’t think it’s quite the best sort of behavior for a guard automaton.
–
That’s it, I’m telling Mom about the dragon egg you have hidden in your closet!
“No! Wait! Jackie!”
Eight months of planning, and if I didn’t beat my sister to the stairs, it was all going to be for naught. But she was younger than me, smaller, and faster, and it was going to take something like a real miracle for me to get there before her. She was three yards from the bottom step, and my socks weren’t getting purchase on the linoleum. And she was opening up her mouth to yell.
“Mom! MOM!!”
And then my miracle happened. Dad came to the top of the stairs instead, and I knew it was going to be alright. Because I wouldn’t have had the surprise dragon egg for mom in the first place if he hadn’t snuck it in there with me at the start of all this.
I think it’s time for another round of writing prompts! (She says, shamelessly levying everyone else’s imaginations for ideas.) Same deal as last time: all you lovely people give me prompts– a song, a word, a phrase, a whole darn premise, whatever comes to mind– and I respond with a bit of flash fiction (100-200 words). Post your prompts in the comments!
Also, as it’s the middle of the month I have a full(er) length short story due. It’s mostly written and on its way, and I should be posting it over the weekend, so keep an eye out!
F.A. Hakimian 