Category / Half Hour Challenge

by Colette

Teddy’s Tale

Written by Sparky

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We imagine this is exactly what Ted would do. Do not push that button, Ted. Image // Universal Pictures

I remember how it all ended. The story is almost legendary amongst what remains of my people. The noise, the smoke, the endless crush. But it all came later; this is how it begins.

In the centre of our planet was a machine and it ran the day-to-day business of the whole planet, ensuring the globe kept spinning, the sea had its tides and the volcanoes acted as they should. The machine even regulated night and day for those deep in the heart of the planet. Those at the heart of the machine acted as gods, controlling the fate of all who lived on the surface world. One youth of this tribe of stewards was responsible for our fall, unintentionally of course. His name is inscribed into our minds yet never spoken, lest we bring his fate on us once more.

He had a small teddy bear, handed down from father to son over generations. The ticking that emanated from its heart was a reminder of how even simple things could be enriched with technology. This bear had kept the boy company over the years when his father had to watch over the machine, in order to ensure its constant upkeep. They shared conversations of the past, of the hopes and dreams the two shared. But the bear longed to return to the surface world he originated from, before the time of control.

They went everywhere together, the boy and his bear, walking alongside the other. Their footsteps silent, the clockwork inside the bear’s chest the only sign of actual life between them. They had explored the machine’s various rooms and corridors over the lonely years; they knew every inch of their home. As a new day broke inside the machine, the bear seemed sadder than usual; he looked out on the complex with his dull, vacant stare. Between him and the boy there was an unspoken bond, they could almost read the other’s thoughts. That particular morning, the boy knew the bear wanted to explore again, to get closer to the machine than they ever been allowed before.

They got to the door outside the heart of the machine. The door that would allow those who entered the power to control an entire planet. The bear looked at it with a sigh as the control was set above the reach of either him or the boy.

The boy waved the bear toward him – he didn’t want to be caught here, he wasn’t allowed. The bear plodded along after him, silently calculating the best way to get into that room. He would get that opportunity sooner than he realised. The door slid open on its brass hinges to the slightest hiss of steam, and the bear hesitated then turned. It was open, the steward’s shadow retreating down the hallway. So the furry dog-eared bear hurried.

He only just made it inside, his little legs barely making it over the threshold before the door shut behind him. He walked to the large brass console in front of him and scrambled up between the chair and the panels. Looking out over the endless buttons and levers, his eyes fell on the wall of screens fizzing to life in front of him. And, in that moment, he remembered what it was like to breathe pure air, feel the warmth on his wool as the sunlight bathed him in its glow. If he could cry, a tear would have formed in the corner of his eye. He took a few small steps and reached down to flip open the protective cover on the centre button. The big red button. The big red button that read “Do Not Press”. The bear raised one paw and gathered as much force as he could and brought it to bear on that button. Alarms rang out across the complex and scenes of destruction began to fill every screen in front of him. The end had come, all because of a bear’s resentment at losing the freedom he once enjoyed.

The machine exploded in a giant fireball, consuming the bear within its inescapable heat, yet before it did, he smiled and whispered one last word.

“Oops.”

Sparky’s short fiction was inspired by an earlier Half Hour Challenge and written for our Inkwell forum. It’s an interesting piece that covers the idea of freedom and how one small change can become a catalyst for much bigger consequences. Sure it’s cliché and it screams to the “Lost” TV series fans, but buttons do come with consequences, they are just smaller in reality. If you enjoyed Sparky’s piece, make sure you check out his beautiful poem, “I Wish“. 

by Colette

The Servant

Written by Terrestris Veritas

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The Idle Servant by Nicolaes Maes Image // vispix.com

You were always better than me – more elegant, more sophisticated. You would say that I looked ‘dashing’ in my dark Italian suit, ‘sleek’ in my shiny black shoes and ‘ready for war’ in my white servant’s gloves. I remember how you gave me my orders, never harsh, always calm and sincere. You were always more polite than all the others, thanking me for my deeds, summoning me with a soft call, rather than a harsh snap of your fingers. You were concerned for me, always tending to my wounds, regardless of whether I deserved it or not. I remember how you once stayed behind for me, fearing not for your life but for mine.

My fellows always scorned how you cared, how I was your favourite. Often, they spoke out against you, but ceased their protests once they saw my power. They were always jealous of how I was never beaten, never punished. They didn’t understand my motives, telling me that I forgot myself and lost my purpose. But they were the ones who lost themselves.

My freedom mattered to you and that was your downfall. You always left me to myself if you foresaw no reason for me to be near. Because of my power, I was your only servant, your only protector and your only friend. Or so you thought.

I heard your call, felt your terror. My response was swift and instantaneous, as was the norm. But as quick as it was, I was still too late to help. Your body lay limp by the fireside, your killer strode away, expecting no challenge. I didn’t simply challenge him, I slew him where he stood. You deserved vengeance, you deserved peace and you deserved the fate you got.

Everyone said I had gone soft, fallen for a primitive human. You were a gracious person, but unlike the others, unlike those incompetents, I never lost sight of my goal. I never let hate cloud my judgement. For when you died, I was truly free. And dead you are: as it should be.

Written on behalf of the Half Hour Challenge’s theme Servant earlier this year, Terrestris’s piece certainly gives us the chills. Maybe it’s just that last line, or the strange voice of the narrator, but it feels eerie. The servant finally has his freedom, though it may not be how he ever expected to attain it. If you liked Terra’s work, feel free to check out ‘Lost in Transit‘ and ‘Umbra‘.

by Colette

Lost In Transit

Written by Terrestris Veritas 

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Solitary and in limbo. Image // sharioon.deviantart.com

A purple haze loomed in front of me. From the centre a waterfall of brains cascaded downwards. Somehow they saw me. Somehow, they spoke.

“Every time you fall asleep you die. When you die, someone else wakes up. When that person falls asleep and dies, you wake up then. Everything in your life is connected to that person. Déjà vu is a re-occurrence of what that person experienced.”

Bent double with agony, I could barely speak. “What are you?”

The brains seemed to snigger. “Right now? I am an informer. But once, I was like you, alive but dead. Undead, if you will. Now, I stay in this transit; in limbo.”

I tried to look at the brains but my eyes wouldn’t focus. “Am I… dead?”

“Dead again, you mean?” I could imagine the seemingly endless pattern of brains raising their eyebrows – well, if they had any. “Yes and no. You were dead before, and alive again while your double was dead. But now you have jumped forward, into a place with no dead or alive status, and thus, you stay here until your double passes on.”

“He won’t wake?”

“She, actually. And no, to wake up, one must fall asleep and die. But to fall asleep and die, one doesn’t have to wake up. But to experience, one must be awake. But to dream, one must be asleep and dead. You are neither experiencing nor dreaming. You are in transit with me.”

“But why?” I tried to shout but it came out as a croak.

“You cannot fall asleep and die here. You have jumped forward, which means sacrificing certain aspects of your life to abide by the law. You must wait until your double passes on. And after that, you shall lose yourself. You will see no colours, feel no touch, and sense no emotions. Until you and your double are together, you will experience nothing.”

The brains seemed to recede into the haze. “No!” I shouted. “Come back!”

“Your double has passed on. I must leave you now. While your mind dissolves, believe that you should have done more. For yourself, if nothing else. You are nothing now. All of it was for nothing.”

The brains disappeared, and I lay slumped on the ground, running what I had learned through my mind, as I slowly lost myself.

Lost in Transit was written by Terrestris Veritas as part of a Half Hour Challenge earlier this year. It was praised by Inkblots contributors due to its creepy nature, and many of us were left wondering what Terra would be able to do without a time limit. We don’t know about you, but the idea of talking to a number of decomposing brains inside a waterfall is just a little bit disturbing. If you enjoyed his work, make sure you check out Terra’s two-part fantasy drama, The Bunyip. 

by Colette

A Wonderful Thing – An Alexander Short

Written by Dice

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Time travel can only be a good thing when stocking up on the good stuff. Image // flickriver.com

“What have you got there?” Alexander asked Jennifer.

“Just a chocolate bar,” she answered.

“No one told me there was chocolate,” chirped Alexander.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” warned Jennifer. “There aren’t any left – this was the last one.”

Alexander looked like he was going to complain, but was struck with a recollection; “I thought you were going on a diet.”

“Starts tomorrow,” replied Jennifer simply as she ripped open the wrapper.

Alexander moaned and stomped out of the room. Moments later he was back, clutching something to his chest like a prized possession.

“What have you got there?” Jennifer asked Alexander.

“Oh, just a chocolate bar.” He answered.

“I saw those earlier, are there any left?”

“Afraid not, this was the last one, sorry.”

“Oh. Well, never mind, I’m supposed to be starting my diet tomorrow anyway…” mumbled Jennifer.

Alexander just nodded before sitting down, taking a large bite of chocolate.

“On a completely separate note,” started Alexander with a mouth full of chocolate. “Time travel is a wondrous thing, don’t you think so?”

Dice’s Alexander shorts are fast becoming a staple to his Half Hour Challenge entries, but we just can’t get enough of them. Completed under the theme of chocolate, Alexander has been devilishly sneaky with time travelling – not that we would normally recommend it under such selfish circumstances, mind. But it makes such an amusing story that we don’t care if Alexander accidentally changes the course of time. If you enjoyed Dice’s Alexander shorts, make sure you check out  ‘This One! An Alexander Short‘. 

by Colette

Monthly Editorial: May’s Star Wars-Inspired Science Fiction Special

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Because who doesn’t love a good Star Wars meets Star Trek meets HP meme?

Hey Inkblotters!

May welcomes not one, but two great Bank Holiday weekends to enjoy, and what better way to shirk off the downright depressing news of late by spending it outside – whether that’s a pub lunch with cider, beer, cocktails and wine, or maybe heading down to a community craft fair at your local park. But the one thing we hate, and it’s prevalent, is the feeling that Tuesday is the new Monday. “Oh woe is me”, says the office worker, while the pub/bar/retail worker grins and spends their Tuesday off watching a Breaking Bad marathon. However, for those who like to wind down and read, we’ve got some fantastic content planned for this month.

In honour of a new Star Wars cast and a return to the movies, we have our very own sci-fi theme planned, entitled: May the Force Be With You: A Science Fiction Special. Although we’ve not got anything planned for the 4th – I know, I’m very sorry, guys – we do have a wonderful Alexander short from Dice coming up on the 5th. Next, we’ll (laser)beam you straight into space with Doishy’s “The Sound of Silence” on the 12th, where no one can hear you scream. And on the 16th, new contributor Nonexistent Rose shows us the true meaning of ‘seeing is believing’. As usual, we’ve got a mix of poetry, HHCs and short fiction for all your science fiction needs.

Seen as we’re close to the summer holidays, many families are gearing up to jet off for their lazy two weeks abroad with the kids. However, some of us like to avoid the expensive time of the year and head off on our break a little early. May’s HHC is aptly named, Taking Flight, and we’re hoping to see some interesting and diverse entries for this one.

So until next month, enjoy the content and the Bank Holidays!

– Silver, Inkblots Editor

by Colette

Closure

Written by Lost in a Dream

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It’s hard to leave the past behind entirely. Image // Carol Lin

Rose walked away from the high-rise buildings of Tetropolis, towards the fringe of the city. Her bag was heavy and the still, summer heat was particularly overbearing, so the journey took much longer than usual. While it would have been quicker for her to get a cab, she knew that the walk would give her a sense of closure. 

She paused to take a couple of pictures of her favourite places. She laughed at herself for being so damn sentimental. But there was no going back to Tetropolis after all that had happened. 

As she approached the edge of town, Rose found herself pausing outside her first flat. It seemed a lifetime ago. The owner of the grocery store on the other side of the street was sitting in a fold-up chair outside, reading a newspaper, and listening to a tinny radio. She recognised the song playing and it caught her almost by surprise. While she couldn’t remember the lyrics, she knew the rhythm straight away and it took her back to those early days. 

In a moment of nostalgia, she recalled the heavy, black notebook in her bag. The book was never really out of her thoughts, but she tried to push it to the back of her mind. She knew that she should have destroyed it with the other stuff, that’s what Felix said, but when she held the lighter up to the thick cream pages, she couldn’t do it. 

Knowing that she couldn’t take the book with her, Rose resolved to dump it in the next bin. Although she had written the book, she had never read through it. Would those happy, opening pages be laced with irony? Would she herself change through the pages? 

Sitting down at a disused bus stop, she pulled the book out of her bag and decided to give it a read before throwing it away. 

Lost in a Dream’s Closure was written in response to our November Half Hour Challenge theme, Book of Secrets. This short snapshot of Rose’s life leaves us hungry for more. What was in her past that she’s so desperate to throw away? But also, how is it that she cannot part with it? If you’re a diary or journal writer, would you find it sickening to throw your past away like Rose? Maybe it’s the pull of nostalgia that makes this HHC such a simple pleasure. If you liked Lost in a Dream’s writing, make sure you check out some of her poetry as well, such as ‘Parnassus Park‘ and ‘Time Was Standing Still‘.

by Colette

Only A Smile

Written by Dice

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Such a fleeting moment. Image Courtesy of themetapicture.com

Part 1

Sitting there she was unassuming, but when she smiles you understood why someone thinks she is the most beautiful woman who ever lived.

That someone sat opposite her on the train. He usually found himself on the same carriage as her during the commute to and from work. If he was honest, he often made sure he was on the same carriage. He wondered if she noticed, she’d probably think he was a “weirdo” if she did. Today he had been luckier and she had come onto the train after him. He had wondered where she was, she had almost missed the train.

The man often battled with himself over whether he should say something, but no one ever talks to strangers on the train, she would surely think him weird. Would she even answer him? She’d probably just give a curt reply and return to her book. What if he mentioned the book? He read it himself and really enjoyed it. But wait, what if she wasn’t enjoying it, maybe she’d think he was a geek for reading it.

Just say something, say “hi”. What if she doesn’t answer? What if she doesn’t like him? She’s probably wondering who he is and why he’s glancing fervently. There was no point in talking to her. But what if she did like him? But what if she doesn’t, was it worth the risk? Just say “hi”, just say “hi”.

She probably doesn’t like me.
Coward.

Part 2

He glanced again. He looked a little serious, but when he smiled he was cute. Did he smile because he liked her? Don’t be silly, he was just being polite.

He’d probably think she was a creep or something if he knew she had chosen this carriage because he was on it. She’d done it a few times before, that’s creepy isn’t it? Maybe that’s why he was glancing. It couldn’t be because he liked her too, could it? He would have said something. Maybe he’s shy. But not even a “hi”. He didn’t like her. What if she said something? Is it odd for the girl to say something? Does she look “easy” if she does? He probably didn’t think the same as her. Even if he replied, he’d probably take what he wants then move on. If he wasn’t interested, it would make the journey to work awkward, she’d have to avoid the carriage he was on.

Just say “hi”. What’s the worst that could happen? She could be embarrassed, she could embarrass him. There was no point in talking to him. But what if he did like her, he doesn’t. But what if he doesn’t, was it worth the risk? Just say “hi”, just say “hi”.

He probably doesn’t like me.
Coward.

Dice’s flash fiction was written on behalf of the HHC theme for February – unfortunately, he missed out on the love-themed month, but we’ve managed to pop this piece into our Simple Pleasures theme for April. A fleeting glance with a good-looking stranger on a train, bus, or plane has happened so many times, it’s hard to count on one hand. But what happens when you pluck up the courage and strike up a conversation with them? They could be the partner of your dreams. We’re hoping for a part 3! If you like Dice’s writing, why not check out some of his other work, including ‘Keep Smiling Through‘ and ‘The Writer’s Block‘.

 

by Colette

Partridge

Written by Rob

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Such a sweet relationship! Image Courtesy of David Mitchell

“Arthur! Arthur, where are you?” Miss Granville’s screech echoes down the stairwell for the umpteenth time this morning.

“Coming, Miss Granville.” Arthur calls back from the scullery. He puts Miss Granville’s shoes down that he was polishing and onto the counter, wipes his hands on a rag, and trots down the hallway and up the stairs, trying hard to ignore the nagging arthritic pain from his knees. Miss Granville is sitting in her wheelchair, facing the window, overlooking the back garden and lawns. She is proud and straight, if wrinkled and old, with piercing blue eyes.

“What were you doing, Arthur?” Miss Granville demands.

“I was polishing your shoes, Miss Granville,” pleads Arthur.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Arthur,” snaps Miss Granville. “Why are you so behind with your chores this morning?”

Arthur knows there is no point in trying to suggest overwork, so he offers, “I seem to be a little slow this morning. I didn’t sleep very well.”

“Well, you need to buck your ideas up. I need you to go to the animal feed place at Harmstone. My partridges are nearly out of seed. Then there’s my bed which is needing clean sheets. I’ll bet yours needs changing too. And could you pick up some salmon for lunch whilst you’re down town? Oh, and my dry cleaning should be ready by today. I will be needing my best shawl for the W.I. lunch tomorrow. Now, I’ve noticed the lawns need a trim, Arthur. I hope you’re not going to let them get tatty, you know, like you did last Spring?”

Arthur begins, “no, I won’t Miss Granville,” but she cuts him off, with a chop of her hand.

“Look Arthur! My partridges are here again. Aren’t they just the most beautiful creatures you ever saw?” Her voice has softened, her speech taking a dreamy tone, as she lays her head to one side, clutches her hands to her bosom, and gazes lovingly to the far side of the lawn. Three partridge have hopped out from under the rhododendrons and are pecking at the grass. “Oh, I do love them so.”

“Lucky partridge,” says Arthur, bitterly.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Miss Granville screams, her face contorted like an old newspaper. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you ungrateful wretch, and get about your tasks. Never was a woman more cursed with a husband than I am with you. My mother warned me – how I wish I had listened. Now get out of my sight, or you’ll not have time for the ironing before you need to make lunch.”

Arthur collects the bird seed from the agricultural supplier in Harmstone and buys an air rifle with telescopic sight. The following afternoon, after dropping his wife off at the W.I., and when he was supposed to be cleaning her bathroom, he sets himself at the cellar window with his new gun. He only needs to wait ten minutes or so before two partridges hop into view, pecking at the seed he has spread on the lawn. Arthur’s first shot produces a flurry of feathers, as one bird runs in a tight circle before dropping in an ungainly heap, whilst the second flies away, rasping loudly.

Arthur is weeping uncontrollably “Oh, my, my. What have I done? Those beautiful birds. They never did anyone any harm. I must be mad. She loves them so: I must be. But God help me: I’m so lonely.”

Rob’s Half Hour Challenge entry was written last month under the theme Servant. We thought it fit quite well into April’s Simple Pleasures, but it also gave us some lovely dark comedy with a wicked twist. Poor Arthur, at least he didn’t shoot his wife – was that your original thought as well? If you liked Rob’s HHC, make sure you check out some of his other work, including “Thy Tears Wash” and “Smile“. 

by Colette

Monthly Editorial: Simple Pleasures in April’s Content

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How adorable are these chicks? Simple pleasures. Image Courtesy of Will Merydith

Hey Inkblotters!

The chocolate egg-fuelled month has arrived once again and cries to our slim-ish waistlines we’ve worked so hard to keep up throughout the turn of a new year. There’s no escaping the chocolate bonanza as supermarkets shove vividly coloured foiled wrappers in our faces, enticing us into a dreamy, liquid pool, while slapping devilish prices on Easter Eggs that are just too tempting to refuse. But even if you won’t be chowing down on a bunch of eggs this Easter, you can take delight in our content for April.

In aid of the month ahead, the theme for our scheduled content reflects “Simple Pleasures” – whether it’s a film and a takeaway, watching the sunrise on your commute to work each morning, or maybe even looking through old photographs on a lazy Sunday, simple pleasures are always with us in our lives. Sometimes just looking at the moon and stars on a clear night gives me goosebumps – the good kind, of course. So for April’s light-hearted month, Eruantien’s short poem “An Address to the Coconut” is sure to get you chuckling on the 8th, while Dice’s fictional piece “Only a Smile”  coming up on the 12th looks at two strangers accounts on a train, delivering amusing results. On the 20th, Elanor Rose gives us a snippet of both past and future fusing together in her poem “Video” and, to round off the month, Ricardo’s “The Start Of Something Beautiful” is a fictional short with a simply gorgeous ending. And as always, there’s much more.

To tie in with Easter, our half hour challenge theme this month is: Chocolate. If you’ve yet to enter a submission for our monthly HHC you can find all the details in our submissions page. We’ve had some great responses to past challenges, so we’d love to hear from you.

Once again thanks to all our readers, followers and contributors – you’re all stars. Have a great April!

– Silver, Inkblots Editor

by marleylilith

Bronze Regrets

Written by OrdDiff

More machine than man... Photo by Mike Rollerson

More machine than man… Photo by Mike Rollerson

Smoke filled the room. The man at the desk leaned back in his black suit, the lights purposely hiding his face. He had a cigar in one bronzed hand, the powerful bionic handling the plant matter with perfect precision.

“Knew a kid like you once,” he said, “yeah?”

The person he was speaking to could not have been more than twenty. Outside in the harsh chemical rain, loaded up with tattoos and hiding the obvious bulge of a gun under his gang colours, he was the king of the world. In the darkness of the professional’s office, he was a scared kid in an ill-fitting jacket. “Yeah?” he asked, unsure of his words.

The suit swung his legs up over the desk. Any fool could see he was trying to intimidate the youngster. Any fool could see it was working. “He wanted an edge. Thought he could pay for it.” The man coughed haggardly before taking another drag. “Can you pay for it?” he accused in his gravelly voice.

The boy stiffened and nodded, eager to show his strength. “Yes, I-”

“No!” The man interrupted him with a slam on the old wooden desk. “No, you cannot.”

In one fluid motion, the man rose from his chair, letting it clatter to the ground. “You have the money?” he asked. The kid was using all of his nerves to not flee, and simply nodded. “Then what you want is possible. The question is, can you pay for it?”

The kid tried to figure out what the man meant. “I, yeah, I got the G’s right here.” he replied with a mixture of unease and confusion. As he reached into his pocket to pull out the aforementioned cash, a motion from the man’s bronze hand stopped him.

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