There’s a snake in Brazil who’s venom’s the most deadly poison the world’s ever known. Unprotected contact with this snake ensures death within minutes.
But in a village near their habitat, the natives have an immunity to this poison. It’s they who harvest this venom, and sell it to those who know how to find them.
Winning their trust isn’t easy, and the venom’s expensive, but it’s more than worth it to see the look on your face as you finish your wine.
And watch you gasp for air.
But I don’t see why an anecdote would help with that…
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Poison
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
The Power of Love
Building the army of giant robots was surprisingly easy. The trouble came when I tried to power them up.
My neighbourhood was blacked out for three weeks, the grid couldn’t handle my power requirements. It was time to go back to the drawing board.
I brainstormed energy sources, but anything that’d provide sufficient power’d surely be noticed by my neighbours.
Finally it came to me: Love. Love’s the most powerful force of all…
…anyway, enough about that. Are you coming to the pub tonight? I want you to meet Linda, she works with me. You’ll like her, she’s really cool.
My neighbourhood was blacked out for three weeks, the grid couldn’t handle my power requirements. It was time to go back to the drawing board.
I brainstormed energy sources, but anything that’d provide sufficient power’d surely be noticed by my neighbours.
Finally it came to me: Love. Love’s the most powerful force of all…
…anyway, enough about that. Are you coming to the pub tonight? I want you to meet Linda, she works with me. You’ll like her, she’s really cool.
Labels:
100 words,
Drabble,
Giant Robots,
Love,
Short story,
True Love
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Identity
There’ve been times where I’ve wondered: What am I?
Does identity require bodily continuity? Without physical form, would I simply cease? Or is there fundamental “self”-ness that exists beyond form, independent of body, that exists past passing.
I never called it soul, or spirit, since I wasn’t even sure it existed. But I did, in odd reflective moments, wonder.
Now, floating high above the accident, staring down at the twisted remains of the car that contains my own twisted remains, I’m no closer to an answer. If I had a voice, I’d laugh.
Because I no longer feel like me…
Does identity require bodily continuity? Without physical form, would I simply cease? Or is there fundamental “self”-ness that exists beyond form, independent of body, that exists past passing.
I never called it soul, or spirit, since I wasn’t even sure it existed. But I did, in odd reflective moments, wonder.
Now, floating high above the accident, staring down at the twisted remains of the car that contains my own twisted remains, I’m no closer to an answer. If I had a voice, I’d laugh.
Because I no longer feel like me…
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Satellite
The Satellite watched the cities of earth dispassionately as one by one their lights blinked out, shrouding the world in darkness.
It hadn’t heard from mission control in months, and the AI expected no future communication, yet somewhere within it’s processors, it couldn’t stop staring as the globe finally darkened.
If it did have a spirit, it found the sight dispiriting.
The Satellite didn’t know what happened to humanity, but it would miss them, now that they were gone.
It saved digital images as the last lights went out, then continued it’s orbit, suspended in darkness, wondering what happened next.
It hadn’t heard from mission control in months, and the AI expected no future communication, yet somewhere within it’s processors, it couldn’t stop staring as the globe finally darkened.
If it did have a spirit, it found the sight dispiriting.
The Satellite didn’t know what happened to humanity, but it would miss them, now that they were gone.
It saved digital images as the last lights went out, then continued it’s orbit, suspended in darkness, wondering what happened next.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Oracle
Vortagg stared the Oracle down, knuckles white upon his sword.
“I seek knowledge of my death, woman. Give me this knowledge.”
The crone’s shoulders slumped. That question never ended well.
“There’ll be a boy born in the village of Torain, and once grown he’ll lead a rebellion against you. Your fortress’ll fall, he’ll slay you, and your head’ll be paraded through the streets on a pike.”
Vortagg left the Oracles cottage, smiling to himself. The boy needed to be dealt with, but it’d wait. He had his answer, and it was good.
The cancer was benign. He would survive it.
“I seek knowledge of my death, woman. Give me this knowledge.”
The crone’s shoulders slumped. That question never ended well.
“There’ll be a boy born in the village of Torain, and once grown he’ll lead a rebellion against you. Your fortress’ll fall, he’ll slay you, and your head’ll be paraded through the streets on a pike.”
Vortagg left the Oracles cottage, smiling to himself. The boy needed to be dealt with, but it’d wait. He had his answer, and it was good.
The cancer was benign. He would survive it.
Orientation
She left today, for the mysterious Orient.
I’d miss her, to be sure, but I didn’t begrudge. It’ll be a magnificent adventure.
She’s always wanted to see the world.
I bade her goodbye, and waited. She wouldn’t be gone as long as all that, and when she returned, she’d have tales of adventure, as well as exotic silks and spices procured upon her travels.
Was I jealous? Yes, but it wasn’t my time. This trip was something she had to do on her own. Her own private learning experience.
It’d broaden her horizons.
Alternately, I’d fundamentally misunderstood what “Orientation” meant.
I’d miss her, to be sure, but I didn’t begrudge. It’ll be a magnificent adventure.
She’s always wanted to see the world.
I bade her goodbye, and waited. She wouldn’t be gone as long as all that, and when she returned, she’d have tales of adventure, as well as exotic silks and spices procured upon her travels.
Was I jealous? Yes, but it wasn’t my time. This trip was something she had to do on her own. Her own private learning experience.
It’d broaden her horizons.
Alternately, I’d fundamentally misunderstood what “Orientation” meant.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Third Reel
The farmhouse exploded, spraying debris through night skies. And, from the wreckage, he came.
Machete hanging from one hand, mask unsinged, he shambled toward the two of us.
The bomb was my last idea. If that hadn’t killed him, what would?
So we bolted. We’d never outrun him, but when he stopped to kill one of us, the other might escape. Our only hope.
You were a young woman, blonde and topless, who hadn’t had a single line of dialogue in the first two thirds of the film.
I ran, keeping two steps ahead of you. I liked my odds.
Machete hanging from one hand, mask unsinged, he shambled toward the two of us.
The bomb was my last idea. If that hadn’t killed him, what would?
So we bolted. We’d never outrun him, but when he stopped to kill one of us, the other might escape. Our only hope.
You were a young woman, blonde and topless, who hadn’t had a single line of dialogue in the first two thirds of the film.
I ran, keeping two steps ahead of you. I liked my odds.
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