I don’t go out drinking much, but the next time I find myself bellied up to the bar you can bet that I’ll be ordering me up one of these disturbing Alien Brain Hemorrhage concoctions:
And what goes into an Alien Brain Hemorrhage?
See you at the bar! 
Five Minute Fiction is an ongoing experiment. The goal: To write as much as I can in five minutes. Don’t think. Let the fingers do the work. Once done walk away then come back later to clean it up.
Enjoy!
Choices
The young woman, dressed in plain white, with fine gold ribbon wrapped around her thin waist and secured with the traditional Tyet knot over her right hip. Her bare feet are covered with fine soft dust, which falls silently as a prayer to the sun-warmed earth. She holds her hands in front of her, clasped softly together so the tattoos on her arms form one continuous work of art.
From somewhere behind her she hears a whisper. A snarl. Its familiar voice demanding her selection.
She chooses the lion.
Her kind always does.
Closing her eyes, she stands patient and still, knowing exactly what’s to come next. Like a practiced dance, she sees the moves in her mind, playing out as they always do.
A gate will open. From somewhere deep within the shadows a pair of eyes will glint in the fervid sun. Pads, paws, and claws will slowly, steadily breach the dark. A rough tongue will glide across teeth as sharp as eagle talons. Six hundred pounds of muscle and savage anger, which has been starved of both light and food for weeks, emerges with a bloodlust.
All it wants to do now is lash out with fury, and feed.
She’ll not let any hint of emotion betray her. She’ll do as she was taught. And like a noble woman from the High House of Leochas she wills herself detached from her body and all its raw baser instincts.
Even as the stadium tenses and the mad bellowing of the maniacal crowd bleeds together into one delirious, indecipherable rumble, she stands as still and serene as classical sculpture. Emotionless. Accepting what comes next. An admirably beautiful creature at peace in the heart of chaos.
Unclasping her hands, she reaches up towards a lever embedded in the ornate white marble wall and gently pulls it down in a singularly graceful motion.
From somewhere within the stadium a gate opens, the crowd grows silent, and a victim screams his last.
The crowd erupts in a deafening cacophony of cheers and animalistic howls.
Behind her, bitter laughter cackles like tumbling armor, takes in a raspy gulp of air, then asks the young woman for her next choice.
Some people, for whatever reason, be it a tweak in their genes or uncommon quotient of luck, tend to stand out from the crowd. These individuals exhibit skills above and beyond what most would consider normal. Quite often, these gifted folks evolve into our sports heroes, accomplished artists, and captains of industry. The most phenomenal and uncannily brilliant can even change the course of history.
And then there are those who lack even the most basic of survival skills, and whose continued existence continues to shock us all.
The ingenious and accomplished belong in the Matrix.
The others…not so much. For example:
Matrix:
Not the Matrix:
Matrix:
Not the Matrix:
“Oh-My-God” Matrix:
Not the Matrix:
Happy Friday!
I think I’ve officially sold my soul to the electronic word.
Over the Christmas holiday I was gifted with two book. Physical media. Ya know, paper and ink? Guess what I did before I even cracked open the spines. Yep, that’s right, I downloaded electronic versions to put on my Nook.
I couldn’t bring myself to lug around this ancient form of leisure. I couldn’t easily store them in the glove compartment of my car. And it would be impossible stealthily sneak a quick peek at a few lines during long, drawn out business meetings or during random downtime while code compiles, installs, or configures.
I fear I’ve officially given up on the printed word. I used to be a huge book collector, but now I feel that books are merely taking up space in my home that could otherwise be put to better use. Why keep dusting shelves full of books when I have literally thousands of novels on one slim device? And switching between novels is ridiculously easy. Today I finished The Player Of Games by Iain Banks, pressed three virtual buttons, and instantly began reading Robopocalypse by Daniel Wilson. This, my friends, is convenience personified.
Sure, war could break out, an EMP burst could destroy all electronics, or the electrical grid could simply go dark for any number of nefarious reasons, but I think I’ll take my chances for now and dedicate myself to the goal of never buying a novel in physical form again….
….that is until the next Chuck Palahniuk book comes out, because I just have to have the first printing.
From what I heard he was already in the tow truck:
