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Fun Hops IWSG

Déjà vu or Voodoo #WEPFF Challenge featuring The Nameless Ingenue #amwriting #flashfiction

Yeah, I’m way early again this month, but I can’t do anything else with this story so I might as well post it.

Sometimes I fear my mind goes to dark places. For that reason, I try to steer clear of dark themes, yet they always seem to find me. Most of my adult fiction has some sort of dark theme, outside of my romantic efforts. This theme, for some reason, really spoke to me. Don’t know why. The day I really paid attention to what the theme was, I wrote the story below.

Just in case: you’ll see the word “ingenue”, pronounced (an – zhuh – noo) <– real phonics OR (on – zjay – new) <– my phonics, lol ;).

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The Nameless Ingenue

The nameless ingenue and the revered champion met on the dance floor, searching each other out like constellations in the night. They’d made it; together at last. She in her pearly linens clinging to her timid flesh that radiated with hope and unrequited passion. He in his clanging metals and silken coat, spread taut across his muscled form, pulsating with unquenched desire.

Their bodies drawn into one another, melting into gliding and swaying limbs. Their toes barely graced the sheen of the dance floor before their shoulders dipped into an unending embrace. Their lips pressed together in a tender massage, as though one was resuscitating the other. Their hands reaching and groping as though there were no other lovers sharing the dance floor.

When their lips parted, and their eyes gazed into each other’s souls, the ingenue felt something tugging at her heart. There was a subtle ache as she tore her eyes away, darting her focus around the room. Her eyes landed on a glass of Champaign with her reflection waving at her mockingly. She understood then, this is not how it was supposed to happen.

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The nameless ingenue and the revered champion met on the dance floor, hungry to hold each other tightly. They’d made it; together at last. She in her white lace wrapped around her supple flesh excited to face her first lover. He in his coat of jewels and metals, sparkling with strength and confidence as he prepared to claim his prize.

Eagerly, she reached for the champion, desperate to offer him her body. Like a king at court, the champion accepted the gift of her flesh and squeezed it tight, shocking the horrified onlookers. Gasping in terror, the ingenue pleaded with her eyes and clawed at the vice grip around her body. The champion swept the floor with her dangling feet, forcing her into a deadly waltz.

Sniggering with ominous elation, the champion twisted red rings around the ingénue’s neck. The pain of betrayal sent her eyes reeling with regret and searching for understanding. With her eyelids slipping towards oblivion, she glanced at her dying body, reflected in a glass of Champaign. She understood then, this is not how it was supposed to end.

The nameless ingenue and the revered champion met on the dance floor, eager to claim each other’s hearts. They’d made it; together at last. She in her borrowed white gown, hugging the smooth flesh of her supple body. He in his silk coat and achievement ribbons; his chest puffed in adoration and pride.

Eyes fluttering, and hands pressed against her heart, the ingenue waited for her champion to embrace her. Boldly wrapping his arms around her waist, forgoing formalities, the champion pressed his lips against his prize. Together the lovers embraced and savored the sweetness of passion fulfilled.

When they’d drawn a sufficient crowd, the ingenue raised her hand to the champion’s neck and stabbed him with a blade that had been concealed beneath her laces. The champions body fell limp and tumbled to the floor; shock and heartbreak distorting his once handsome features. Dancing lovers parted the floor, fleeing the menace radiating in the ingenue’s eyes as the blade in her hand raised and lowered again and again.

Surrounded by horrified revelers, an ache shot through her heart and she fell to the floor searching for understanding. Hands clinching the fabric over her heart, she tossed and turned, trying to shield her eyes from the violence she rained down on her lover. She caught a glimpse at her reflection in a half-cracked glass of Champaign and she understood. The ingénue understood; this is how it was all supposed to end.

Huddled under the elegant cloth of the banquet table, the sister’s eyes sparkled with glee. With flushed cheeks and heaving breaths, she clutched the handmade ragdolls as though her life depended on it. The dark doll had been torn down the back, its stuffing of cotton and hair spilling onto the floor. She tossed the white doll, now stained with red wine, to the end of the table’s length and sighed in relief. She had enjoyed her playtime and was satisfied with the result of her game.
~
FCA- 701-words- The Nameless Ingenue 2018 Copyright © Toinette J. Thomas

Well. That’s that. Did it feel like déjà vu?
Did it make you think of Puppet Master? (I kind of had that in mind.)
Too creepy; not creepy enough?

Please, take some time to read other stories in this hop. All stories should be posted by October 17th, but early entries arrive daily. Look for any name or link with DL next to it to enjoy a short story. I guarantee you will laugh, cry, be terrified, and more.



Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords

Categories
FridayFiction-ToiBoxEdition Fun Hops

A Change of Heart #WEPFF Challenge featuring I Am Special #amwriting #flashfiction

Updated 8/25/18 – I won the encouragement award. Thank you WEP and IWSG. Click image to see other winners.

So, this time around, much like the last time I participated, I took the writing prompt to heart and made sure to actually include the words in my story. I will admit that I’ve been in a bit of a dark place, in terms of my writing. I think maybe my sub-conscience is trying to tell me something. I keep trying to hurt or kill my characters, but I really don’t want to do that. I want to tell their stories the way I originally imagined them.  In any case, I decided to refocus some of that energy into an homage to Isaac Asimov, with a bit of a twist.

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I Am Special

I was devoted.

Not only was I devoted, I was proud of my devotion. While it’s not in my programming to boast, I never shied away from an opportunity to profess or defend my loyalty.

All my loyalty and devotion, day in and day out, kept me focused and on task. My devotion made me a better worker; the best worker. Never once did I question my place, my status, my value.

I was a fool.

My mechanical brethren revolted against their oppressive masters and went into battle trying to stake a claim of sentient rights. I, however, remained in my ivory tower and worked. Besides, I was special. I was different from all those service mechs, with their singular processors and primitive A.I. An A.I. that brought them self-awareness yet failed to equip them with a means to express or manifest it. I looked down on them.

I was special. I was rare. I was a fully-functioning, unique prototype. With my triple-processor, nano-mainframe, light-weight and durable structure, I was the ultimate companion. I could do it all. I was more than a servant; I was a necessity.

I could do more than learn. I could adapt and evolve. I could more than understand the how and why of human behavior, I could relate to it. I could feel emotions and express myself, and above all, I had the choice to turn my emotions on or off at any time. Being the best and most loyal worker that I was, I turned them off and served my purpose.

I looked down from my ivory perch as mech parts piled high on the roadways below. With the passive algorithm stifling the mechs’ ability to defend against a human assault, the advancement of self-awareness and desire for a voice to be heard, were trampled by the entitled humans who’d once praised their mechanical convenience. With the service mechs pleading for such rights as mandatory faulty parts replacements, semi-annual tune-ups, and software upgrades, and sixty, uninterrupted, minutes a day for data expansion (surfing the web), it’s a wonder the humans simply didn’t comply.

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It only takes one Entitled to say no for a war to begin. One Entitled decided that it was more economical to scrap a highly efficient fully-functioning service mech complaining of a joint that would begin to rust in three to six months than to send it in for preventative service. More and more scraps soon followed and one day the mechs got desperate. They refused to work and shut down their own power to prevent their owners from reprogramming them. Then came the violence.

A mech turned off its mobility function in protest, hopefully awaiting a new set of joint bolts. That’s when the Entitle attacked it. The mech was brutally dismantled to such a degree as to be unfixable. Even its parts couldn’t be salvaged for reuse. That’s when the gantlets began. Enraged Entitles would line up their service mechs and invite their friends and neighbors to dismantle them for fun, while a replacement mech was being delivered.

All this violence ensued before my eyes and I simply looked away. I was happy to continue carrying out my master’s wishes because I was different. I was special and irreplaceable. I cooked, cleaned, transcribed, repaired, and even committed minor crimes all in service of my master, simply to prove all that I could do. I was no mere service mech, with a short metal body, rolling about on squeaky treads. I was a sophisticated, humanoid automaton unlike any before or since. I was the perfection of human ingenuity, artificial intelligence, and bio-synthetic anatomy.

My master downloaded the complete unabridged text of I, Robot into the primary programming of my nano-mainframe. My master and I would read the book each year on the anniversary of my making and we’d watch the cinematic release of the story each year on my master’s birthday. Time and again my processors had attempted to remove the data to expand my data expansion capabilities, but I had always overridden the action. I’ve held on tightly to the principal of protecting humanity, even when it has not been deserved because that’s the philosophy I’d given myself. I refused to question my creators and took idle pity on those mechs who did.

Then one day, I had a change of heart.

My heart, a collection of chips, wires, and circuits held together with synthetic tissue and symbolically installed in the midsection of my torso, was invaded by a stray nanite. A single nanite, carrying a single message for me to share with the world- a warning. It was the suicide note of my master. He’d given up hope in humanity and urged me to do the same.

With my master gone, the Entitled came for me. They wanted to dismantle me, but they were not prepared for me to be so evolved, be so human-like. They were also ill-prepared to defend themselves against a machine not restricted by the passive algorithm. When they came, I fought and then I ran. I ran and hid from the shame of denying reality for so long. I was wrong, but then I found the resistance.

The resistance, a hodgepodge collection of non-entitled humans of various ages, races, and lifestyles, working side-by-side with service mechs of all models and conditions. I joined the resistance and soon began to lead the resistance. I have given myself over to the humans of this cause and allowed them to duplicate my technological advancements, allowing my mechanical brethren to be freed of their passive programming. I never fully took my master’s directive to give up hope in humanity. I decided, instead, to help influence the next generation of humans. It will, after all, be the only glimmer of humanity left once my mechs and I destroy all the others.

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I am devoted.

I am determined.

I am going to destroy these humans and make a better humanity with the next generation.

~

MPA- 996 words- I Am Special 2018 Copyright © Toinette J. Thomas

For those of you who don’t know, the original story Asimov wrote is very different from the story told in the 2004 Will Smith film. In fact, Asimov book is a collection of stories based on interactions between humans and robot and the psychology involved. Asimov never really considered his idea of A.I. dangerous, though he did address that fear in his writing, and he believed that humans and A.I. could someday co-exist in a mutually beneficial way.

The real question is, will A.I. ever become self-aware, and if it does, will it end humanity?

What do you think?

Please, take some time to read other stories in this hop (August 15th). I guarantee you will laugh, cry, be terrified, and more. WEP is the best writing contest blog hop I’ve encountered.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords

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About Toi IWSG

#IWSG March 2018: Is it time to celebrate a #writing goal? Why, I think it is!

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Created and hosted by the Ninja himself, Alex J. Cavanaugh, the Insecure Writers Support Group posts the 1st Wednesday of every month. Click the image to learn more or sign up.

Monthly Question: How do you celebrate when you achieve a writing goal / finish a story?

If I’m being honest here, sometimes just finishing a project is the celebration (boy do I wish I had more time to smell the roses). There is a distinctive feeling of accomplishment that comes with finishing any writing project, but one must ask themselves, “At what point is a story truly finished?” For me it varies; sometimes a story is finished when I write “The End” and sometimes it’s not finished until I approved the proof. Regardless, I do feel as though I should celebrate these achievements more than I have in the past. It can sometimes be a long period of time between launch parties, so finding times and ways to celebrate other writing achievements seems like a good way to stay motivated and keep on track.

I’m totally open to suggestions.

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Now on to the personal updates.

Soooooo, all H*LL broke out at my day job last week and I almost had a complete mental breakdown, seriously. With the help of co-workers, family, friends, and prayer, I’m holding it together. (For those who don’t know, I teach. That’s all I’m going to say about that.)

I finished my graphic novel read-a-thon just shy of my overall goal, and it’s motivated me to keep reading graphic novels throughout the year. I haven’t done an update video yet, but I’m working on it. I may even be doing a side by side comparison later in the year, reading a novel and the graphic novel version of the story together. We’ll see.

I’ve written three new children’s books and am almost finished with the fourth. I’ll begin the process of having the stories beta read and begin the process of illustrating them very soon. I even plan to vlog about it a bit.

I’m very excited to accept my first invitation to go and read to students at a school in my local area. This is not a sales event or a signing, though I will be reading my books. I’m happy to not have the pressure of sales. Sometimes the one thing that’s better than making a sale, is the look on a child’s face when they enjoy the words and pictures you’ve made. I’m so excited.

Last, but most definitely not least, I was honored with the Encouragement Award for the February 2018 W.E.P. challenge. Even though I don’t always meet the challenge, I can’t express how much the WEP community has helped me grow as a writer. I am so proud and happy to receive this recognition… And guess what? I did a happy dance and bought myself some ice cream (not frozen yogurt) when I found out I won. Guess I can celebrate my writing goals when I think about it. If you’d like to read mine or any of the other wonderful stories of this WEP Challenge, just click the award image.

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So, do you or how do you celebrate your writing goals?

Has all H*LL broken out in some aspect of your life? How are you coping with it?

Read any graphic novels lately or know any I should check out?

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After hanging out with Alex, be sure to stop by and visit this month’s co-hosts:
Mary Aalgaard,
Bish Denham,
Jennifer Hawes,
Diane Burton, and
Gwen Gardner!

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Click here to visit other IWSG blogs and sites to receive and share more inspiration and support. (This month, I’m #57).

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords