Last Two!

Another double...since there's only two left until we're caught up with February, I'll just put both of them up now. I really like the second one--it was a lot of fun to write such a crotchety character. Hope you enjoy them!

2/27/10


“As she watched, it began to whir and beep in a most unsettling way.”

Jayne tilted her head at the curious object. It just lay there, shiny and silver in the starlight. She bent down, poked it. Nothing happened. She took a step closer, poking it again. Still nothing. Crouching down on her haunches, she picked it up and looked it over. It was perfectly spherical, with no seams at all. She inspected it thoroughly, and noticed a darker circle, nearly indistinguishable in the dim light. She brushed her finger over, once, twice, trying to see what it was.

Suddenly, a brilliant white beam lanced out from the dark spot, nearly blinding her. She dropped it immediately and stepped back. As she watched, it began to whir and beep in a most unsettling way. Finally, it quieted, and the white light broadened, forming a solid square in the air. An image appeared, a head, with pale skin and a shock of tousled brown hair. A strange object sat on its head, blue, with silver shapes pinned on it in rows. Jayne took another step back, calling her companions to come look. They approached the object carefully, starting sharply when sounds began to emanate from the image. Jayne had no idea what they meant. After several more minutes of looking at the object, she lost interest, as did the rest of the herd. With a ululating howl, they loped off across the plains, their long fur shining in the light of their planet's three moons.

The stars shone down on the lonely object, sitting alone on the grassy knoll. Illuminated in the dim light were the words “Property of the United States government.”

Word Count: 268



2/28/10

“The cameras flash.”

The cameras flash. I hate cameras. They're bright and blinding, and they always catch me at just the wrong angle. You know the feeling? When you're just sitting there, and someone snaps a picture just as you open your mouth to say something, or just when that sneeze finally comes out, and there you are, immortalized with your eyes scrunched up and your hand covering your mouth. And yet, here I am, voluntarily exposing myself to these beasts of embarrassment. Why, you ask? Well, because apparently, I'm famous. I didn't really do anything, I just yanked that stupid kid out of the road before a truck squished him flatter than a pancake on Sunday. I didn't do any more than anyone else would have, and now they've stuck me in front of all these stupid cameras.

“How did you feel?” they ask me. How did I feel? I was pissed! I didn't want that brat getting squished like a bug right in front of my house! But I don't say that. I tell them that I didn't feel much at all, that I just did what I had to do to, what anyone would have done.

“So, what's it like to be a hero,” another asks. Well, it feels pretty damn shitty, that's the truth. Stupid reporters nosing into my life, finding out about the kitten I saved from the river maybe 10 years ago. Apparently I started being a hero way before now. But I don't say that. I just say that I don't really feel like a hero, I just did what anyone else would have done.

They don't get the message. I'm stuck there for hours, while they take their goddamned pictures, and ask me stupid questions. I pull my cardigan tighter. Damn reporters. They can go to hell for all I care. Stupid idiots, they'd probably bring the cameras with them.

Word Count: 315