fiction

Twitch Stream Stories Redux #11: Oil Drips from a Shell

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

These stories were written live on stream based on prompts provided by the viewers. They have been edited, with this second more in-depth edit occurring much later, but not meaningfully rewritten or expanded so as to preserve the spirit of the exercise. Sadly, the prompts themselves were not recorded until many stories in.  Sometimes the prompts were silly challenges, or quirky thoughts, or dark ideas, or utter nonsense.  I did my best each time.

If you enjoy this, please check out the other activities from the stream. If you would like something longer and much more thoroughly planned, simply investigate my more traditional work at the top of the page.

Oil Drips from a Shell

prompt provided by dark_lord3

Ding-in-ding! the tiny bell over the gas station door chimed. Sammy strolled in, confident in his ability to immediately sniff out any bags of Caliente Corners in the place. Corners was, in his opinion, the finest mass-produced brand of jalapeno cheese chips in their arid region. He sighed at the sight of the place; he wouldn’t be needing his skills after all.

There were plenty of shelves, but there was a snack shortage. Candy was in decent supply, as well as chips, jerky, gum, and plenty of miniature tubes of emergency toothpaste, but sometimes it was a single package of each brand. His eyes, trained to spot the right color of crinkly plastic, immediately singled out the sole remaining bag of sour cream Caliente Corners. Its green edge poked through the bottom of a shelf and hung there, like a person dangling from a tree branch. Continue reading →

Twitch Stream Stories Redux #10: A Hardy Cheese Arrives in America

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

These stories were written live on stream based on prompts provided by the viewers. They have been edited, with this second more in-depth edit occurring much later, but not meaningfully rewritten or expanded so as to preserve the spirit of the exercise. Sadly, the prompts themselves were not recorded until many stories in.  Sometimes the prompts were silly challenges, or quirky thoughts, or dark ideas, or utter nonsense.  I did my best each time.

If you enjoy this, please check out the other activities from the stream. If you would like something longer and much more thoroughly planned, simply investigate my more traditional work at the top of the page.

A Hardy Cheese Arrives in America

prompt provided by WolfChkin

The package arrived in the Sandwich District of Pastapolis with little fanfare, the bulk of which was three serving trays over, on Reuben Street. A local pride parade was in full swing. Sugar confetti rained down on the tray from apartment windows. Bacon flags in an assortment of colors flew from baguette floats, topped with the local dancing spread.

 Everyone came out to celebrate their bread, lettuce, and cheese together. The LGBLT organization had arranged the whole thing and now flanked the floats, passing out garnishes. A barbecue chicken singer flung melodies and flecks of sauce the crowd’s way, giving shout-outs to all the finger sandwiches, beefcakes on weck, and Italian subs out there. Continue reading →

Twitch Stream Stories Redux #9: 1, 55, 102

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

These stories were written live on stream based on prompts provided by the viewers. They have been edited, with this second more in-depth edit occurring much later, but not meaningfully rewritten or expanded so as to preserve the spirit of the exercise. Sadly, the prompts themselves were not recorded until many stories in.  Sometimes the prompts were silly challenges, or quirky thoughts, or dark ideas, or utter nonsense.  I did my best each time.

If you enjoy this, please check out the other activities from the stream. If you would like something longer and much more thoroughly planned, simply investigate my more traditional work at the top of the page.

1, 55, 102

Prompt provided by givemeallthecoffee

The secondary valve of the unit stuck out against the ocean floor like a sore pectoral fin. Its metal had rusted completely over the cycles, but it failed to blend in with the ivory Shotan corals or azure water-fans. The surrounding area was dense with invertebrates, all instinctively knowing to steer clear of metal. It had been bred into their pencil point brains by generations of deadly encounters.

Metal belonged to the Gurgeon, smartest creatures of this ocean, of this planet, and of this system. Their civilization was unchallenged in all directions by a third of a galaxy arm. Unchallenged by rivals at least. Continue reading →

Austentatious Punk: Attorney-at-Genre

~ Blaine Arcade ~ 3 Comments

Welcome to Helens, where books (looking an awful lot like people) show up to have their genres assigned by the publishing courthouse.  The gorgeous and vivacious Valentine Lots appears, claiming to be a contemporary romance, but the sour soggy publishers say she has to be labeled as erotica.

Enter her representative Austentatious Punk: passionate, funky, and wearing as thin as her home.  Valentine’s public defender will stop at nothing to see her get the genre label she deserves, but there might be time for a few breaks to get to know each other, bake a decent dessert, and talk love lives in this metafictional courtroom procedural slice-of-life novelette!

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 37 minutes)

Austentatious Punk

Attorney-at-Genre

by

Blaine Arcade

The Valentine Case: Public Reading 1

Double doors burst and the works flooded in. None of them had any idea where they were going, hence the guides with their red sashes and gold calligraphy titles. ‘Right this way please’ they say, polite as a first time flight attendant, white gloves beckoning in slow motion: the flight of serene and knowing doves.

Using cues only they have memorized, the guides split the new works based on one glance, into different tributaries of shuffling feet headed for their very own doors. The space was tall but tight; you had room to breath but not to run. Wooden doors were stapled into buzz cut carpets. New works never brought any odors along from the imaginary places that spawned them, so despite the crowds the publishing courthouse always smelled like office printers breathing their last and spine glue.

A pair of dovely gloves fluttered in her face, momentarily nonplussed, then grabbed her and pulled her into another line. Nobody else was so much as touched. She couldn’t catch the plaque on the door before she was pushed through into a dimmer room, quieter too, so much quieter that it left her stunned. Continue reading →

Twitch Stream Stories Redux #8: Who has the Green Expectations?

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

These stories were written live on stream based on prompts provided by the viewers. They have been edited, with this second more in-depth edit occurring much later, but not meaningfully rewritten or expanded so as to preserve the spirit of the exercise. Sadly, the prompts themselves were not recorded until many stories in.  Sometimes the prompts were silly challenges, or quirky thoughts, or dark ideas, or utter nonsense.  I did my best each time.

If you enjoy this, please check out the other activities from the stream. If you would like something longer and much more thoroughly planned, simply investigate my more traditional work at the top of the page.

Who has the Green Expectations?

Prompt provided by dark_lord3

The man seemed to misplace his name. All of a sudden he couldn’t remember it, although he remembered his situation just fine. He was currently traveling through time, strolling through it really, and observing the effect. The time tunnel was a pleasant light show, his mind having difficulty following it, what with the quantum confusion and all.

He recalled what he was doing before the time tunnel, just ten minutes ago, if minutes still existed. He was very devoted to his idea, having spent years getting everything arranged, those years now looking like nothing more than plastic bags over his shoulder. Time travel had eluded everyone else, but his idea was fresh. Continue reading →

Twitch Stream Story: Thieving Tom Puts it Back

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

Author’s Note:  This flash fiction story was written based on a prompt provided by Justintoonz during a livestream.  I hereby transfer all story rights to them, with the caveat that it remain posted on this blog.  If you would like your own story, stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade during one of my streams and I’ll write it for you live!

Prompt: “A thief finds a mask containing a snarky evil spirit inside.”

Thieving Tom Puts it Back

The book he’d stolen didn’t just contain many magic spells; it also helpfully told him about various artifacts worth stealing. He wasn’t even a thief until he’d found the book and been turned down as a customer. Really, why even shelve the thing if you weren’t going to sell it, Mr. decrepit old hermit in your very brown store that was more dust and earwigs than merchandise?

Ah, he realized in sinking despair, stolen mask in his lap, blood clot of consequences now freewheeling through his morale, because the book wanted to be stolen. It took itself out of storage. Same as this mask that won’t shut up. They all want to be active again. That’s what magic is: eager chaos. Continue reading →

Challenging Cock (finale)

~ Blaine Arcade ~ 1 Comment

(back to part one)

(estimated reading time: 55 minutes)

Tame the Cock

The Wicky Sticket heard many bad ideas over the course of those two days, concentrated in the empty ballast tank where the challengers made camp, guarded at most hours by some of the collaborating eggties.

Suggestions swirled about the tiny table quickly cobbled together from scrap wood. The representatives of the Death-or-Glory gang suggested they kill Zamshy by dropping directly onto him knives in hand, hoping that one went deep enough into the neck. There wasn’t much confidence in the idea, as they recalled dragon slaying being a rather rare skill, and Zamshy was at least half dragon. His serpentine flailing could buck them all off before they’d found a good spot to stab. Too many variables, the Wayfarer and Vesperos agreed. Continue reading →

Challenging Cock (part three)

~ Blaine Arcade ~ 1 Comment

(back to part one)

(estimated reading time: 52 minutes)

Study the Cock

“They call it the Dreamtime, far more south than I’ve ever coasted,” the Wayfarer said, guiding Vesperos through the quietest alleys of a worker’s district. It was just the pair of them, and a little distance from the boisterous toads was something of a relief. Not that the bee didn’t like them, or feared their insectivorous nature, it was just that his cell back in the hive had been such a perfect sort of peace, not silent, alive with the hum of all the other bees and wasps, but free of conflict. It had been the sound of harmony, of vibrating on the same wavelength as the planet. A symptom perhaps, to enjoy such a thing this far into his divine degradation, but no matter. It was closer to Psyche.

“Dreamtime,” he repeated, only to keep the Wayfarer talking. The sanded grain of the rat’s affable voice was almost as good as the hum, and he hardly seemed aware he was a font of incredibly varied knowledge. ‘Coasting’ as he described it had taken him from Constantinople to near the summit of the world, but never far inland. Continue reading →

Challenging Cock (part two)

~ Blaine Arcade ~ 1 Comment

(back to part one)

(estimated reading time: 1 hour)

Flash the Cock

Vesperos only missed the flash because he had eyelids, which was curious because the man was a bumblebee. Svelte for a bumblebee, upright for a bumblebee, rather four-legged for a bumblebee, far too intelligent to be a true bumblebee, and also far too eyelidded. Aside from these many anatomical anomalies he could also be identified by the pinkish shimmer in his thick collar-mane of thatched bee fur, also found in his otherwise black eyes and the transparent panels of his delicate wings.

His stinger bore pink fletching that shaped it like a heart, but he tried to draw attention away from it with his dress, including long wide coattails perpetually crimped at the end. Something about him tended to draw people in, and the people of Minimil were no exception, so he kept himself sequestered in the hive neighborhood of Dauber’s Comb, accreted and situated on the barn’s ceiling in the crook of a beam: the only living complex higher than Loftplace and its sprawling sand castles that drowned half the old buildings. Continue reading →