Sci-Fi-Story

"We're going down!" Paul screamed as the spaceship plummeted towards the planet. Behind them, a black spacecraft, with a red eagle on its side, swooped down, guns blazing. Bullets flashed past the windows in the pursued ship, while red lights flashed and warning sirens blared inside the cabin. John, the copilot, was the only one at the wheel, Paul, the captain, having run off to warn the other two crew members, Grunge and Spoke, the robots. Outside, the ship had entered the planet's atmosphere, and, seeing the trail of smoke it was leaving, the second spacecraft broke off its attack. The fist ship, entitled Louisiana, was headed straight towards a mountain. It hit the mountain, cutting a chunk clean out of it, and then hit the water of a bay. Inside, the four-man crew scrabbled for the exits. In the end, it was Spoke who got there first. He opened the hatch, letting in a torrent of water, and dived out. The rest, half-submerged in water, quickly followed. One by one, they bobbed up, out of the water, and floundered onto one of the many algae mats that filled the bay's waters. Deep below them, startled by the sinking spaceship, massive predators began to head to the surface. Up above, the robots had gotten to thier feet and were gazing all about them, scanning the mountanous land that rose up around them. John and Paul, meanwhile, were gazing down in the clear, lucid waters for their spaceship. John saw something writhing down there, and then his puils dialated and he fell away from the hole in the algae. He was shaking all over, and Paul asked him waht was the problem. John responded, "I-i-i saw s-something down th-there. It was really, really, big." Then it was Paul's turn to look into the water and he, too, saw the something that was down there. Then, suddenly, over to the far side of their mat, the water exploded. A long, segmented body almost flew out of the water, and a giant water millipede stared down at them, glaring. It howled, an acid-green spittle flying from its mouth. Another one erupted from the water, directly opposite the first one. Then two more, both smaller than the previous two, exploded from the water. Then they turned to the other two, and attacked them. They all screamed, blue blood mixing with the frothed-up water as they writhed about in a primordial battle. The four earthlings sitting on the algae mat dived for the water, and began to swim toward shore. by the time the giant-bug fight was over, they had clamboured out of the bay and had hidden themselves in the forest.

Short-Shorter-Shortest Story

My first memory is of being held up in a glaring white light, and a man in a stretchy, yellow suit picking me up and turning me every-which-way and prodding me in various places. I suppose you may fing it wierd, but for me, that was the routine every day for the first fifteen years of my very, very long life. you see, i wasn't your average boy. I was a test-tube-born, red, scaly, humanish lizard. I had large, black eyes, with no pupils. I had a row of spikes running down my back and my tail- yes, you herd right, my tail. I had no idea that there was anything else in this world beyong my private, bleached-white, room. That, is, until i turned fifteen. That day, the scientists who ran the facility I was born in, admitted a stranger into my room, the first time that they had done that. And the last. He turned out to be he President of the United States, one of the many countries in that tumultous world. He came into my room, sat down, and stared. That's all he did. He stared. he staered and stared and stared until a small girl, blond pigtails askew, tears leakingfrom her blue eyes, burst into the room. She came in with the force of a hurricane, all energy and tears and noise, noise that I had never experienced in my life. I hiss and crouced down, my hands clutching my suddenly, and feircely, aching head.

Iceberg Poem

Snow drifts gently down,
spiraling in circles
and drifting down to
lay on the ice. It stretches
as far as the eye can see,
a blank
expanse of white, that
goes on forever,
from horizon to horizon.
The only
features are
the snowdrifts that
pile up in ten-foot tall stacks,
like a great
hunched back
of some strange monster.
Far to the north,
water crashes against the ice,
sending
great sprays up
that drench the snow and
the penguins huddled in their
great circles. A chunk of ice,
bigger than a car, slowly splits
away from the cliffs that rise
high above the water. It
trembles, holding on
by a strand,
then slowly and ominously creaks.
A short sharp
crack later, and
it falls into the sea. The
iceberg releases a rainstorm
of icy seawater,
dousing the surrounding landscape.
It slowly bobs away,
pulled by strange
ocean currents that drag
it away from its home,
off to travel until it
melts to nothingness.

3rd Nature Poem

Wind whistles over the plain, a thousand voices speaking in unison. Dark clouds, mottled in grays and blacks, race over the prairie, bringing with them an eerie silence as the air stills. An intake of breath, a single cricket chirps forlornly. The summer storm breathes in once, and then roars its fury as rain begins to fall. First one drop, then another, until the prairie grass was matted and wet, like the hair of some massive animal. The lone tree on a hill bends over in the gale, its green leaves fluttering in the wind. A crackling fork of lightning streaks across the sky, jumping from one cloud to another. Then came the clap of thunder, shaking the ground, and startling a family of field mice living in a woven grass nest. A rickety old cottage sits in a dip in the ground. Inside lives an old man, creaking and clattering as much as the house itself. The floorboards squeal, a pig howling as feet tromp over him. The old man groans, as he sits in his rocking chair, a grumbling noise rather like a pot of boiling water with a frog in it. A young woman sleeps on a dusty couch, her raspy snores bouncing around the room like the thunder crashing outside.