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Author Topic: everyday stories (challenge)  (Read 442 times)
Caledonian
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Netherlands Netherlands


the dragon's called Salmacis


« on: September 09, 2015, 04:03:21 pm »

As you might have noticed I like to play forum games. so I have a little challenge for you all.

describe a scene from your everyday life as if it happened in a fictional (steampunk) world.

I'll give the first

Tiredly I made my way into the central station. It was strangely quiet; I seemed to be the only one waiting for a train under the impressive steel and glass construction that formed the station hall, but it wasn't just people that were lacking from the hall. There weren't any trains either. I felt my heart drop, afraid to have missed the last train home I felt my pocket to check the time. '23.29' lighted up and I sighed. it should be here soon.
That turned out to be correct. Before I had time to take of my backpack a loud shrieking indicated the last train to have arrived.

I'm sure you can do better. I have a very uninteresting life.
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"Crazy pseudo-scot living in a fantasy world"
pakled
Zeppelin Captain
*****
United States United States


Minions Local 305, at your thervice!


« Reply #1 on: September 13, 2015, 04:40:46 am »

The constant yapping of the dogs in their cages seems universal. Must remember to have the missus make a trip to the butcher's for more scraps, before they eat us from house and home.

The telegraphical/phonic machine in the bedroom chimed again, letting me know another poor soul despaired of the automatic process that plated the frames of mirrors. Listening closely, it was a chemist's shop, nearly fifty miles away. Picking up the audio-projector, I listened to the heartbreaking tale of the young princess's images. I flipped through the manual, haphazardly stuck in the back of the roll-top desk. Here it was, 'chemicals, the use of.' By Dr Immeressen.

"Hallo! Help by Wire here. I need you to do the following..." and began reading instructions. Part of me always worried some fliy-by-night press would seize a copy of my treasured notes and deliver them directly to our clients, thus ending the 'give 'em the razor, sell 'em the blades' approach that kept starvation from my door. Yet the expert salesmen had done their job, and save the company the cost of sending a mechanic to delve a spanner into the works...

In a trice, we had discerned their problem, and I broke the connection to their wires. Somewhere, some young man was reeling the cables back to the operators, readying for another call from another broken machine.

I tapped the stopwatch recording my time, and entered it into the ledger. Somewhere at the transmission end, an agent of the company was doing the same. Two minutes' pay, at fifteen cents a day. Then, like a homely spinster on the day of rest, I awaited the next caller.

Hopefully that is far enough away from my 'real' job to keep me out of trouble...Wink


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