Twitch Stream Story: The Sun Extraction

Prompt: A dragon is sent to another plane of existence because he’s destined for greatness.

Fleeing the den without permission could earn banishment. It could earn death if you were from a line expected to be the most dignified. The night sky was full of stars when he fled, on clawed foot rather than wing. The shrubs were thicker than he’d anticipated, and the thorns dug into his wrists and ankles. He shed hot blood, but his fear and sadness kept it from igniting any of the driest plants. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Rosetinted.exe

Prompt: your eye has been twitching all morning, suddenly the vision goes black and a message displays “error, maintenance required.”

She, we’ll call her Rose because it’s the simplest name to use, awoke in a tangle of blankets sucking her thumb. The habit had reared its head, adorable or ugly depending on who you ask, about eight months ago. She slept alone, so she didn’t see the harm. On that morning her thumb tasted like pancakes and dark amber syrup with smashed blackberries. Continue reading

Chat-your-own-Adventure #7: The Concord Portal

Author’s Note: This story was written live on stream with the audience bidding tokens (earned while watching) to determine the path of the story.  The underlined phrases in the choice of three were the winning pathways.  Stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade if you’d ever like to participate in our interactive fiction.

Scientifically Enhanced Fruit         Poetic Device Fruit           Enchanted Fruit

The Concord grape before them was certainly the largest to ever exist. Its skin was thick enough to require a fillet knife. Its seeds were large enough to serve as baseballs. Five bottles of wine could be produced from the juice of a solitary example from the vine. The vine itself was full, more than thirty grapes growing over a titanium trellis, because the other materials they’d used had ended up buckling under the weight. Continue reading

Chat-your-own-Adventure #6: Points for Context

Author’s Note: This story was written live on stream with the audience bidding tokens (earned while watching) to determine the path of the story.  The underlined phrases in the choice of three were the winning pathways.  Stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade if you’d ever like to participate in our interactive fiction.

Draft Scrawny                                 Draft Brawny                                        Draft Old

The numbers didn’t look good. They didn’t sound good either. Reggie could hear the numbers, the multitudes, just outside the locker room. There was a whole stadium out there, sweaty, drunk, and riled up by what they’d only been able to see on screens up to that point. Some of them probably shelled out ten thousand dollars for their seats, and it wasn’t even the middle of the season yet. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Jintybix gets Take-out

Prompt: A sheep is tired of grazing around with his fellow sheep, and wants to become a rocket scientist and go to space.

The new grass was the old grass, and it was far worse than Rummy the sheep remembered. Back aboard the Poker station he’d been able to eat a hundred different things. The astronauts let him munch on grass from every one of their experiments and every one of the cultivars they had. Some of it was crummy, but much of it was transcendent. Continue reading

Feisty Faustus Ferret in “Machine Works”

 

feisty credits

feisty fancy

It is notoriously difficult to hear, the voice of creation.  The mind naturally listens for it at all the wrong times.  It expects to hear god singing when a flower blooms, or when a child is born, or when lovers embrace.  The mind looks out when it must look in.  The voice of creation comes from within man.  It is when her or his creations are born that it can be heard. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Hightail it Out

Prompt: There is a futuristic civilization with tiny people and a primitive collection of human-sized tribes

From the moment he was captured, the life of Second Housefly Admiral Narbin Deez had been nothing but iterations of rank darkness. He’d been plucked out of the wreckage of his ship and immediately dumped into a sweaty shirt pocket from which he could not clamber out. After that he’d been transferred into a sock with ten other prisoners, some of whom were not human. The praying mantis in the bunch certainly ate its fill.

Currently he was held, alone, inside a match box. He knew it was a matchbox because of that unmistakable smell of potential fire. They left him a solitary match as company, a thing as tall as him that he could barely wield even if given the opportunity. It was his first chance to reflect on the crash. Continue reading