This week’s prompt was to write a story about the birth of a great art piece. Ironically, both of our stories ended up in a cave, but mine with a sci-fi bent and T’s falling more in fantasy.
We now have two weeks to write a story from a machine’s point of view!
For your reading pleasure we have included our stories below both in the post in an easy to read and downloadable PDF form. We would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
A compilation of our previous stories can be found here and on Wattpad.
PROJECT ATLAS
D’s Great Art Piece Story #sci-fi
PROJECT ATLAS – PDF – Standard Format
The touch of the sun warmed the frozen ground, frosted with a thin dusting of snow. Nestled on a plateau above, between a horseshoe of mountains, the thatch roofs of a dozen buildings cloistered together like a herd of sheep, hemmed in by a spiked palisade. Puffs of smoke wafted the smells of this morning’s catch through their chimneys, permeating the countryside with welcome scents of an ending fast.
Riba shrugged the sack on her shoulder. The market should already be open and, if she was lucky enough, she could find someone to pawn her salvage despite her unwelcome sight. Not anyone would buy her wares, but hopeful an Outsider would be there, one of the traders or adventures who come from beyond the mountains. Often, they were willing to barter with her, Exile or not, while the villagers remained distanced and reluctant. From the hunters she crossed on the Path, she had caught wind of one in these parts. A young woman with a brown braid. She travelled light, so probably not a trader, and that made her hopes soar.
She pulled close her deerskin and began her descent to the village. Spring had replaced winter, but its chill still clung to world. The wilderness collectively yawned, creatures slowly exiting their long hibernation as the warmth of the sun grew stronger. The crunch underfoot sent a few creatures, bold enough to brave the receding chill, skittering away to their hidey-holes. Soon, lean times would be bountiful.
The trees thinned, revealing the village, now fully awake from its restful night, the gate perched open as a dappling of comers and goers filtered through. The tributary of Riba’s mountain path merged into a wider, packed earthen road as she neared the tribal statues guarding the village’s single entrance. A riot of voices clamored over the normal choruses of market day, a pair of burly men shoving a woman out onto the road.
“Begone, Outsider! We want nothing to do with the machine magic!”
The woman scrambled to her feet, pushing a thick braid of hair back over her shoulder, “So what now? You’re going to toss me out and keep all my wares?”
One of the men sneered and tossed her knapsack onto the road, its open flap scattering its contents across a wide swath of the entrance
“Thank you very much,” the young woman grumbled sarcastically, dusting herself off, slinging her sack onto one arm and picking up the scattered contents like a crow gathering everything that shines.
“What are you looking at Exile?” the tallest man snapped.
Riba held out her empty hands placatingly and stooped to pick up a round metal ball, too regular to be natural, and offered it to the woman.
“Ah, someone still friendly after that show? Surprising,” hardly sparing her a glance, the woman snatched the ball, tucked it in her pack, and paused, “Sorry, I should be thankful.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you get in a tussle with authorities, Pel,” Riba shrugged.
The woman paused again, a grin spreading across her face as she registered who stood before her.
Riba beamed back and the two shared a bear-hug, “I had hoped the rumors were about you. It’s been so long! What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”
The Dragon's Den 