Inktober’s continuing adventures through the universe

I’m muddling through Inktober 2019 Writer’s Edition, which is rather new and diverges from solely drawing to writing a 50-word story based on the official Inktober’s prompts. Inktober’s having the same ups and downs I’ve come to recognize from NaNoWriMo, moments of fun, crushing self-doubt, why am I doing this, a place of magic beyond the plateau, and… well I’m hoping it ends with the same sense of creativity I get from NaNoWriMo. I’ll let you know once I reach it. The following are my entries for the past week, from day 16-23. You can see my earlier entries by clicking here,  here, and here.

Because these stories are meant to exist as unrelated snippets, I’m including a photo that suits the story’s mood before the story itself, as something of a palette cleanser. They run a wild gauntlet of un-relatedness, but here they are. I’d love to hear your thoughts on them and please drop your @’s in the comments if you are Inktobering yourself so I can follow your adventures.

Day 17: ornament

white smoke
Photo by Snapwire on

With relief the Ambassador shed her body, strange ornament of solid flesh, at the end of her workday. Her ghost stretched, floating free. What a hindrance bodies were, yet so necessary in dealings with these solid, carbon-based life forms. It was strange to think she was once one of them.

Day 18: misfit

silver metal round gears connected to each other
Photo by Flickr on

She inspected the device, knowing it instantly. Its core was carved from the hearth stone of a misfit moon, pistons from the mechanimals of Titan, and a human heart to pump the fuel. Her heart. She’d found it at last. She transferred the credits to the peddler. “I’ll take it.”

Day 19: sling

active ash cloud ashes blaze
Photo by Pixabay on

“I used to sling boosters in the asteroid mines,” she told them, taking the explosives and tucking them into her bra. “I’ve got this.” She dove from the cliff, mechanical wings unfolding and catching the upstream as she soared over the slaver’s camp, the first explosions rising in her wake.

Day 20: tread

brown mushroom on green grass
Photo by Katalin Rőfös Horvát on

“Careful,” she touched his arm. “The moss releases a toxin when you tread upon it.”

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“I assure you I don’t, but neither do I care to die at your side.”

The Queen’s words echoed in his mind. “Kill her. No matter the sacrifice, make it.”

Day 21: treasure

close up photography of adult golden retriever
Photo by 42 North on

He lowered his blaster to aim at the Andromedan’s third heart. “I don’t give a damn what you do with the treasure but you are not taking my dog.” The yellow lab peered up at him with adoring eyes.

The Andromedan sighed and lowered their weapon. “Can I clone it?”

Day 22: ghost

silhouette of person
Photo by Bestcaption_mph on

The note fluttered with grace to the ground. The Ambassador’s ghost escaped like a breath on a winter morning, her body collapsing to the floor like so much meat. There would be bruises in need of explanation come morning, but she dared not refuse a summons from the Soul Keeper.

Day 23: ancient

architecture bones building city
Photo by Pixabay on

“Crushed beneath the woolly mammoth we found this ancient body, preserved in the peat. We radiocarbon dated the remains and it’s as old as the mammoth, but here’s the thing, this corpse had a pacemaker. My thesis advisor says I’m not allowed to say it was a time traveller, but…”

that’s it so far, folx. Happy writing!

an Inktober collection

Earlier this month I committed to Inktober: Writer’s Edition, which has me writing a 50-word story every day, following a list of prompts you can read here. You can read my previous week of stories by clicking here.

Here are my stories from this past week, interspersed with palette-cleansing photos for your viewing pleasure.

Day 10: pattern

air air pollution climate change dawn
Photo by Pixabay on

Her gaze traced the pattern of smoke stacks on the horizon, each one belching poison into the atmosphere. A factory planet, built for production, left to robots to run when the air became toxic. She tied a scarf over her mouth and nose and cursed her luck for crashing here.

Day 11: snow

photograph of happy children
Photo by samer daboul on

Glowing green particulates fell like snow onto the streets overnight. Children scooped it up, packed it tight, and threw green snowballs of it at each other, giggling, innocent. The teachers bit back their warnings. They’d all be dead soon, after all, best let the children have one last good day.

Day 12: dragon

city near mountain during golden hour
Photo by Roberto Nickson on

Coils of smoke rose from the broken city like dragon’s breath, the sunset bright with flames of colour. She fixated on the hue of burgundy ribboning across the clouds, memorizing the colour of freedom. A far explosion brought a smile to her lips as she began to count the dead.

Day 13: ash

photograph of a burning fire
Photo by moein moradi on

She stared into the ashes long after the fire’s fuel ran out and cold crept inside her bones. A small collapse of ash startled her to stabbing at the cinders with the knife she’d used to kill him. His teeth grinned from the ashes, promising he’d never let her go.

Day 14: overgrown

person holding container with seaweed
Photo by Chokniti Khongchum on

Shattered petri dishes lay across the laboratory floor, their samples long overgrown the agar and spreading in fungal clumps. He sobbed with relief and flicked at the green until a cloud of particulates released. Snorting up the spores, his eyes rolled back as a deep sense of peace overcame him.

Day 15: legend

woman playing electric guitar on top of rock formation
Photo by Stephanie Souza on

He hit the chords power-hard, eyes shut, hips thrust forward, the song he played a legend. The final riff echoed off the Starcruiser above him and he rose his hand, horns up, to listen as they faded. He nodded, satisfied, and put away his axe. Another planet introduced to Zeppelin.

Day 16: wild

adult alone autumn brick
Photo by Pixabay on

Watch how he waits, deep in the wild recesses of his own mind, until the first flash of feral anger eases and the bright sludge of adrenaline fades. For a place safe to think, to consider, to plan, and bring the darkest ruin to his enemies. Run while you can.

Are you participating in Inktober or Writober as a writer or an artist? Feel free to drop your @’s below so I can follow along.