Six Word Stories

To kick off the fall semester, we are posting here a couple of impromptu six-word stories from members of the Creative Writing Club. Enjoy!

Don't go into the living room!
-by Lindsey Neville

I am here, but here's nowhere.
-by Mayerling Acclofrande

Read more six-word stories here:
http://www.sixwordstories.net/

Welcome!

The Writer's Block is currently taking submissions of creative writing from Massasoit students. Send us your short stories, poems, memoirs, and essays! Submit your writing to writing@massasoit.edu. We read and respond to all submissions and select one approximately each week to post to the blog!

Cheers,

The Writer's Block

"45 Minutes" by Patrick McDonald

            The sound of an alarm clock roused George from his sleep. “Another exciting day in outer space. Yeah right, today will be the same as always,” he thought. He changed from his nightwear to his station jumpsuit and shaved. He then walked to the elevator to the low gravity ring of Farreach Station. Farreach was a mining station built at the 5th lanier point around the earth. By shooting small spacecraft, known as mules ,from a mass driver on the moon, they were able to tow asteroids to within easy travel of the moon or earth. In fact Farreach station included several asteroids in its construction. When a mule towed the asteroid in, it would be attached to the station. Then remote control mining machines would mine the precious ore and ice to be refined on site.

            George arrived on the operations ring, which was at ½ the earth’s gravity. George felt much lighter; it took him only a couple of long strides to reach his control station. He strapped himself in and powered up the extractor, a giant mining drill with laser and plasma reinforced cutting edges. The device slowly was extended on a long mechanical arm to where an asteroid was docked. The giant spiral cutting head started to spin and dig itself into a large ore vein.

            For the first few hours of the shift things went smoothly. George watched almost in boredom as ore was brought to the surface by the drill, scooped up by a claw bucket conveyor and brought to the refining center. Then in the distance he saw a glint. It was an asteroid flying towards the station. On its forward face was a mule attached via a series of anchors dug into the surface by small drills. It seemed almost routine, but George notice something was wrong. The retro rockets should have fired, bringing the asteroid to a slow crawl, but the asteroid was not slowing down.

            George’s first instinct was to activate his radio link and call in to his boss.

“I think we have a situation here, an asteroid is coming in at high speed and the mule seems to be malfunctioning,” said George into his radio headset.

            “Mining bay 15 we see the object, we are firing up the laser cannon battery as we speak and trying to get control back over the mule,” said the control room.

Slowly the asteroid got closer and closer. A few minute later, a series of laser emitters around the base let out beams of light. The beams landed on the asteroid and small jets of vapor started to fly off the giant space rock.

            “It’s not working,” thought George. He grabbed the nearby emergency low-atmosphere air supply helmet and put it on, shouting, “brace for impact!” The asteroid, despite being slowed by the laser, was not stopping anytime soon. It barreled into the docked asteroids, knocking them into the station. It then plowed into the outer habitation ring of the station, creating a giant gap in the structure.

            Inside the station, it was absolute chaos. The shaking from the impacts made an earthquake seem minor and steel plates were buckling at odd angles. Men rushed to put on emergency oxygen helmets and rush to the emergency escape pods. George tried to make his way to the nearest escape pod but the ceiling collapsed, cutting him off. George looked at the heads up display (HUD) in the helmet screen. The oxygen level hovered at 45 minutes. He thought, “45 minutes. I have to get out of here quick.”

He floated to the elevators but the connecting struts had buckled along with the elevator shafts within. He floated to the escape pod tubes, but they all had been jettisoned. He floated to the air locks and found the doors were powered down. He then floated to one of the terminals at a control station; he saw that they were still on. With a few presses and swipes of the touch screen a schematic of the giant doughnut shaped station appeared on the screen. The station had taken massive damage from the collision. Oxygen levels were at 5% of normal levels, The rings were coming apart and starting to float off into space. Worse, he saw that all the escape pods had been jettisoned, save for one in the refining center, which was in the center of the station, now barely attached to the rest of the station by tension cables. George thought for a moment; he was in quite the predicament. Then he saw an exterior maintenance equipment room and had a stroke of genius.

            He went inside and found all the thing he needed: thruster packs, magnetic grapple guns, magnetic grip pads, and explosives. He quickly equipped himself with the necessary tools to cross the gap from the operations ring to refining center module. He placed A C4 breeching charge on a wall and pressed the detonator, a second later a large hole had appeared in the wall. Grabbing the grapple harpoon launcher he had taken from closet and a portable high capacity battery, he stepped through the hole confident in the ability of his jumpsuit to serve as a space suit if necessary. He then aimed his grapple launcher at a one of the struts; it flew through the vacuum and attached itself to the strut. George delighted, then activated the reel function of the grapple and flew across the void to the strut. The grip pads he attached to his boots magnetized as he got near the metal strut. He then aimed for a large piece of debris from the impact. His grip pads deactivated and the grapple gun’s reel started back up dragging him across the void.

He then aimed at an airlock on the exterior of the refining station. He fired and his boots demagnetized. He started to fly across the void to the refining station. Then a truss from one of the mining bays flew got tangled in the cord as it flew by. As he began to be pulled in the same direction of the truss George released the gun and fired up the jet pack he took from the maintenance room. He used the thrusters to boost his speed so he could reach the far side of the gap in time. After a few seconds the thrusters cut out. He reached out and floated forward for what seemed an eternity before he reached the exterior handle of the airlock. He looked at the control panel. It still had power. “Good thing the refining station has a separate power source,” he thought as the air lock opened.

 He looked around the refinery. The oxygen levels were minimal and the lights were dim, indicating the refinery’s solar array was nearly destroyed. He looked at his HUD, his oxygen levels were down to 10 minutes. “I got to hurry,” he thought. He floated down the empty corridors, kicking off walls and pushing himself with handrails to speed himself up. He found the escape pod and tried to prep it for launch be he couldn’t; there was not enough power. Panic stricken at having minutes of oxygen left, he fumbled to attach the battery to the console. When the terminal powered up, he furiously pushed buttons trying to start the pod’s system. A loading bar appeared on the screen. George simply watched as it took an eternity to fill up. He threw himself into the pod as a message showed that it was ready to go. His HUD showed he had seconds worth of oxygen left. George took a deep breath as oxygen levels rose inside the tiny vehicle. George pushed a few buttons and the escape pod jettisoned from the station.

 A few moments later George took off his helmet, seeing that oxygen levels had risen to a safe level for humans. He took several deep breaths and looked back as Farreach station broke apart into hundreds of pieces as the little escape pod made way along a preprogrammed course to the nearest moon colony.

"Vindication Is a Hell of a Thing" by Marjorie Gordon

So much heartache, too much pain.

You ever tried screaming but the sound refused to come out?

Weak in the knees from all the emotional strain.

Ever try to speak, and no words, even though you open your mouth?

All because of other people’s selfish gain.

When you told the truth it all got twisted.

VINDICATION IS A HELL OF A THING.

On all sorts of papers your name among the LIES got listed.

If only they knew how much pain their deceptive tongues bring.

They talk, they laugh, they slander your name.

They hate you so much they give you the blame.

Even though there is sunshine you are always in the rain.

It hurts like hell, there is always so much pain.

Short change one employer each day to give to another.

An hour each day don’t seem like a lot, but it all adds up.

When you speak what’s on your mind then you become a bother.

That’s when your peaceful life their lies erupt.

Life lessons learned, nobody cares about you when you speak the truth.

Not when lies give them conviction and boosts their careers.

The plant was so beautiful but they killed it from the root.

From that day on everything became dull, dark and dreary.

But God said their day will come; don’t worry my dear.

"Overcoming the Obstacle of Cancer" by Ricardo Mahotiere

James “Rhio” O’Connor was truly an inspiration, demonstrating what one person is capable of when they decide to fight. After being told by his doctor that he only had a few months to live, he not only outlived his dreadful prognosis, he took control of his health.  By doing so, he became an inspiration to all those who are willing to fight and believe in themselves. I heard the saying “the brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.’’ Not only did he live with a rare malignant cancer, he made liars out of those who undermined the power of the human spirit.

What I found most inspiring the most was the way he handled his prognosis. He was diagnosed with mesothelioma at the age of sixty-one from prolonged exposure to asbestos as a child. Not only did he make different lifestyle choices, such as his eating habits, he used all the resources available to him such as the internet to determine his best course of action.  He took control of his own destiny.

What can one do when receiving such dire diagnoses? In my experience, cancer affected me on a deeper personal level. It was eight years ago in May, when my sister went to the hospital from having a flu-like symptoms. She had been sick for about a week. All the way to the hospital, she was laughing. I remembered how sunny it was outside. When we got there, I had to wait in the waiting area. The doctor tested her blood. One day later the physician had made an urgent phone call to her and told her to come back. She went that very day. The doctor told her there was an abnormality in her blood and they had to run more test to be sure. It was two day later, when the doctor called again and told her that they had the results. They discovered she was suffering from an advance stage of Acute Myeloid Leukemia. An excessive amount of white blood cells had built in her blood; as a result, some of her organ was damaged.  Her diagnosis had been known too late. She only survived for nine months.  Throughout her ordeal, I witnessed a vibrant young woman getting weaker and weaker by the day. There were days when I would go to visit her at the hospital and I did not recognize her. The vibrant and exuberant young woman has withered away; the light on her eyes was gone. Watching her deteriorate in front of me like that without being able to help her inspire me more to get into the medical field. I hope one day to become an Oncology nurse.

If I ever were in Mr. O’Connor’s shoes or my sister for that matter, would I be inspired to fight like he did or just accept my fate? After receiving such devastating diagnoses, the first thing I would probably go to a stage of denial, and tell the doctor that it is not true. I would seek a second opinion. If a second physician confirmed my diagnoses, I would let my loved ones knows my condition so that I can have a rally of supporters behind me. Sometimes a painful situation is not as hard if you have people rallying to fight with you. I would use the internet as a research tools in order to familiarize myself with what stage my diagnoses is in. I would read medical journal in order to educate myself about the fight ahead of me.

 In knowing the stage of my cancer, I could make an informed decision about the best course of treatment. Some cancers can go into remission with the aid of chemotherapy or surgery. I would surround myself with healthcare professionals who are determined to help me fight. I would spend more time with my loved ones and since my faith in god is an essential part of my life, I would pray as a means to overcome any hurdles along the way.  I would also make lifestyles changes such as eating healthier, traveling more, sleeping more so that my body can rejuvenate, and living without regret. I would not want to look back on my life with regrets. Mr. Rhio taught me the meaning of persistence by illustrating how one can triumph against all odds.

"The Fall" by Bethany Roberts

I remember when God created the world. He stood, looking down at the darkness, and as he spoke, his words shot out into the dark, streaking it with golden orange. Unlike the constant white light I was used to, it seemed alive, more energetic as it curled and expanded across the black.

            I stood next to him, then, awed at his work. I didn’t ask Him what it was. You never asked him anything. I could only watch in silence as he spoke again, and his words began a solid thing, a tiny orb in the blackness, wrapped in water.

            He spoke again, and his words dove into the water and became hard stone, separating the tiny puddles. Then, God gathered the light in his hands, like clay, and formed a huge glowing orb, and hung it above the little world. He crushed the leftover light in his hands and scattered it all across the blackness, so it was no longer black, but hung with light everywhere I could see.

            God looked then on his little garden, and spoke, and when his words hit the sky, they took new form and flew on their own. The other words plummeted into the sea, grew scales and became fish.

            And while I still stared, the words bounded across the land, and there were so many different shapes I could not count them. Some had long legs and ran, but others hugged close to the ground and crawled under a heavy weight.

            God smiled on all of these. I pulled my gaze away from the wonderful new world, and looked into his face.

            “It is beautiful,” I said, and before I could ask what it was for, he reached down and scooped up dirt in one hand. From this, he molded a new shape. It looked very much like him. He raised it up and kissed its face, then set it back down on the earth.

            I looked back at God, and at long last, he spoke.

            “It is good,” he said.

            Then he turned away, and I saw he held a red book in his right hand.

            “Sir, what is that?”

            “This is my plan. Everything that has ever happened or will come about is in here.”

            “Everything? Then am I in there, sir?”

            “You are. And so is he.” He pointed back at the world, where his little creation stood, staring into the sky.

            “Does he have a name?”

            “Adam will do, I think,” he said. And when he smiled, new love filled me, and I bowed before him.

And things might have turned out alright, if it weren’t for that tree. It grew in Heaven, then, its roots arching into the floor of his great courtyard. The golden fruit hung from its branches. It was always ripe, and I always smelt it. It was a golden smell.

            When I heard the tree was leaving, it puzzled me. He sent four angels to bring it down to earth, and plant it in the middle of his garden. I wondered why he couldn’t just create another one like it.

I watched as they carried it, and though they were careful, a cascade of leaves fell from the branches. When they were out of sight, I stood where the tree had been, up to my ankles in the leaves and thought. And as I thought, I saw something amongst the leaves; a fallen fruit.

            I picked it up, held it in my hand for a moment. It was so soft that my fingers left indentations in it as I held it. The juice flowed between my fingers, and the scent, something like an apple but sweeter, floated up to me. I raised it to my face, inhaling the scent. And then I bit down.

            It melted in my mouth and slid down my throat, almost like wine. I didn’t stop. I took another bite, intoxicated by the sweetness. It was not until it was gone that I realized what I’d done.

            I licked the rest of the juice from my fingers, thinking of all the things I could do. The first thing that came to me, for whatever reason, was God’s book. It was a huge thing, some million pages long, that he kept in his throne room. I’d watched him write it, but never dared to look inside. But why shouldn’t I? He left it out in the open for all to see.

            I hurried to the throne room, pleased to find it empty. God seldom just say around on His throne. I have to hand it to Him. He’s good at staying busy. The book was on a pedestal in the middle of the room, with a few stairs leading up to it.

            I was surprisingly calm when opened the book to the middle, skimming the curly script to find out what He had planned for his lovely new world. Each page had the stories of many lives on it. The words overlapped and intertwined, but could read well enough what was happening. This was what I saw:

            ‘…and he heard footsteps approaching. Smiling to his friends, he went up to meet them, but as soon as he stood, a spear pierced him through. He fell to his knees and whispered my name, and then fell dead.’

            I stared at the page. The word ‘dead’ stirred something in me, and though I’d never heard it before, I knew what it meant. I think it was the fruit that told me.

            I flipped back to another page and read this:

            ‘As they marched into the dark building, she held her mother’s hand. Once they were inside, their clothes were taken, and they huddled together in another room, until it filled with poison gas and they died.”

            I turned again:

            ‘The last words he spoke were: ‘God help my poor soul’.’

            I paged through again and saw two tall towers crumble in flames. I saw children armed and sent to fight men. I saw people burned, hanged and murdered in God’s name. And then I could no longer see the page, for my eyes stung with tears, the first tears ever shed in Heaven. They fell on the book and smudged the letters. How I wished that by my tears I could erase them.

            “Lucifer!”

            I turned. He had entered the throne room.

            “What are you doing?”

            He did not sound angry, it was only a question.

            “Reading,” I said.

            “Why?”

            “Why not?”

            “What have you seen?”

            “Pain. Suffering. So this is what you’re planning for your lovely little garden? You plan to kill them all, one by one?” I was almost shocked at myself.  It was the fruit, I think. I would never have spoken such otherwise.

            “You don’t understand, Lucifer,” he said. Gentle voice this time, “It will all work out for the best.”

            “At what cost?” I said, “At the cost of your little people? Why can’t everything be the best to start out with? Why does it have to work out?”

            “Who are you to question me? Did you place the stars? Did you breathe into clay and create life? Did you write every word of that book? Did you speak the universe into being?”

            “No,” I said, “I can’t speak universes into being. You’ve kept that power for yourself. But I do know what is right and what is not. And what you plan to do to those people-“

            “What do you know of right and wrong? I created morality.”

            “Then you should follow it!”

            I stepped down from the podium, walked over to stand right in front of the towering God. I do not know what I intended to do, but I had no time.

            He grabbed me by the robe with one huge hand, and with the other, swept away one wall of his grand hall, so I could see the world. With one finger, he pulled away at the crust, bored deep into it. From his finger burst red, molten fire, filling the earth’s core with a heat I could feel from where I stood.

            “What is that?”

            He did not answer me in words. He thrust me over the edge, holding my by my robe, dangling me over the pit. I looked down, waiting for the drop, waiting to hit the fiery pit. I did not drop.

            “How dare you defy me, Lucifer? You, who sat at my right hand? I give you a choice now. Do you recant, so you may live in my peace, or do you hold your words, and be tossed into the burning pit?”

            “Sir,” said I, “Lord, cast me not into the pit.”

            “Do you recant?”

            I almost said yes, but I remembered what I had read.

            “Cast me instead into the world,” said I, “So I may walk your earth and know your plans.”

            “You realize you will not be able to return,” He said.

            “Yes,” said I.

            He closed the pit with one hand, but did not set me down.

            “Go, then.”

            He did not yell, and yet all his anger was enclosed in those two words. He threw me to earth. 

"Cry of a Modern Pioneer" by Gregory M. D. Bossé

My most swollen expectations in life revolve around where I would live in the future. I till this point have assumed I would be free to choose my location and life style. I would like to move to somewhere like one of the northern mountain states where I could live like the mountaineers or pioneers of old. Hunting, trapping, cutting and building as of olden times; perhaps even clearing enough land to make a self-sufficient homestead to raise a family on. The right to carry a gun for protection from man and beast. The right to raise my family Catholic and without persecution. These points I have held to be my rights given by the Constitution, but I guess that in light of the flaming plane that is our current trend in government, these rights it would no longer seem are a given. In the years to come, perhaps even by the end of my collage career this dream may turn out to be the delusion of a bygone reality. The flame of a pioneering spirit may in fact be destined to be quenched by the bloated bureaucracy in place today. The duplicitous restrictions in place now regarding hunting, firearms, cutting trees, farming, self protection, religion, land ownership and living, turn many of the dreams of freedom to a nightmare of red-tape. The norm of only a few decades ago has in fact turned into a most regularly denied part of the current age.