You've lost your metallic shine. You've become friends with oxygen and look rather trashy. You're not quite bright red nor an earthy rich dirt brown. A dulled out dirtied red doesn't look presentable. The splotches in your rust doesn't compare to the beauty of uniformity in a metallic coating.
Your skin has become quite rough. I remember brushing my hand against you. It was wonderful feeling. It felt smooth and a little cold. I miss your glossy polished surface. You also had a wonderful gleam to you. You carried the image of the world with you. Now I can feel my hands scrape against you and all I see in you is a dulled out oblivion.
You're slowly disappearing. Your age is showing. You've past your prime. A relic of the past is what you are. Skin made of rust is brittle. A touch will turn you to dust. We want a friend that is reliable and will stay for a while.
I've heard rumors of a potion clearer than the vast blue itself. A potion of youth. However, it doesn't work on organic matter such as myself. Maybe if I find it, I can return you to your former glory. I'm a bit hesitant. Rust has a bit of a charm to it. I can see the years of history in you. You must have encountered thrilling tales during your lifetime and it will all be washed away by a splash of vinegar.
You've lost your metallic shine. You've become friends with oxygen and look rather trashy. You're not quite bright red nor an earthy rich dirt brown. A dulled out dirtied red doesn't look presentable. The splotches in your rust doesn't compare to the beauty of uniformity in a metallic coating.
Your skin has become quite rough. I remember brushing my hand against you. It was wonderful feeling. It felt smooth and a little cold. I miss your glossy polished surface. You also had a wonderful gleam to you. You carried the image of the world with you. Now I can feel my hands scrape against you and all I see in you is a dulled out oblivion.
You're slowly disappearing. Your age is showing. You've past your prime. A relic of the past is what you are. Skin made of rust is brittle. A touch will turn you to dust. We want a friend that is reliable and will stay for a while.
I've heard rumors of a potion clearer than the vast blue itself. A potion of youth. However, it doesn't work on organic matter such as myself. Maybe if I find it, I can return you to your former glory. I'm a bit hesitant. Rust has a bit of a charm to it. I can see the years of history in you. You must have encountered thrilling tales during your lifetime and it will all be washed away by a splash of vinegar.
When she moves, she creaks. Her solar panels grind against their bolts under the solar winds. Airlock Delta's never worked right since the microsatellite incident.
She's been here for so long, circling the Earth as the Moon's balance, its shadow. The threads of gravity bend into a nest where she settles, never seeing her counterpart and never being seen in return. She wonders what the Moon looks like; she hopes it might be like her, somehow, an old companion.
They say it's impossible for her to rust in space, because that requires oxygen; but some lichens and fungi can live in space. They're all over the habitat ring, and she's worried they might start covering the windows. The little ones don't like it when the windows are covered.
She knows she's the only thing that protects them from the void outside, but she's old now. She's been here for too long, and the little ones know it—they're building something next to her, a creature that shines and sparkles in the light of the Earth. A new being, made of grace and chrome. Once it's finished, they'll have no use for a clumsy old machine like her.
She wonders if they'll let her see the Moon, before they leave her to burn up in the atmosphere.
Maybe they're replacing her Moon the way they're replacing her.
She hopes not—she hopes the Moon stays beautiful to them. She hopes the Moon remembers her, when she's a fading streak in the clouds, as something silver and wonderful, as a sister, as a friend, however unseen.
The Decommissioning of the Earth-Moon L3 Space Station
When she moves, she creaks. Her solar panels grind against their bolts under the solar winds. Airlock Delta's never worked right since the microsatellite incident.
She's been here for so long, circling the Earth as the Moon's balance, its shadow. The threads of gravity bend into a nest where she settles, never seeing her counterpart and never being seen in return. She wonders what the Moon looks like; she hopes it might be like her, somehow, an old companion.
They say it's impossible for her to rust in space, because that requires oxygen; but some lichens and fungi can live in space. They're all over the habitat ring, and she's worried they might start covering the windows. The little ones don't like it when the windows are covered.
She knows she's the only thing that protects them from the void outside, but she's old now. She's been here for too long, and the little ones know it—they're building something next to her, a creature that shines and sparkles in the light of the Earth. A new being, made of grace and chrome. Once it's finished, they'll have no use for a clumsy old machine like her.
She wonders if they'll let her see the Moon, before they leave her to burn up in the atmosphere.
Maybe they're replacing her Moon the way they're replacing her.
She hopes not—she hopes the Moon stays beautiful to them. She hopes the Moon remembers her, when she's a fading streak in the clouds, as something silver and wonderful, as a sister, as a friend, however unseen.
The Decommissioning of the Earth-Moon L3 Space Station
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MythicalCookie, thank you for the reminder! Your piece reflects the tension between the past and the future, the nostalgic and the practical. The narrator wants the subject to work again, but that entails fundamentally changing them by erasing their past. While I feel the undercurrent of humans treating machines like tools, I also feel the promise of friendship.
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Adaris, a poignant goodbye from a faithful servant of humankind. I've always had weakness for personified space robots. Your piece has a push-and-pull, too, of the scientific focus on the details and of the wonder beyond that. It also shows a world in which our machines integrate with nature to form a different kind of beauty.
Adaris, you're the winner, and MythicalCookie, the runner up. Thanks for sharing; I enjoyed reading both your pieces!
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MythicalCookie, thank you for the reminder! Your piece reflects the tension between the past and the future, the nostalgic and the practical. The narrator wants the subject to work again, but that entails fundamentally changing them by erasing their past. While I feel the undercurrent of humans treating machines like tools, I also feel the promise of friendship.
@
Adaris, a poignant goodbye from a faithful servant of humankind. I've always had weakness for personified space robots. Your piece has a push-and-pull, too, of the scientific focus on the details and of the wonder beyond that. It also shows a world in which our machines integrate with nature to form a different kind of beauty.
Adaris, you're the winner, and MythicalCookie, the runner up. Thanks for sharing; I enjoyed reading both your pieces!
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When people draw up a warm bath and put in flower petals,
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A timeless realm of bottles exists in this small house. Shelves stacked with bottles filled with all assortments of colors, living or inorganic, it doesn't matter. We fill bottles with whatever fits. The silliness and joys that come from stuffing bottles with just stuff is really quite amusing. I adore sharing with you all the things to be remembered and to be known.
Look around and ponder at my collection of things I've put into bottles. See here, it's a tree in a bottle. I've planted that thing years ago as a little seed with soil and water. It is its own little garden in a bottle. Look over there, there are clouds of all precipitation in those bottles. I also have silly bottles such as bottles in bottles. But of course, I store items more down to earth such as drinks and flowers. Anyways, you be able to find nearly anything in these bottles that you could imagine. Oh all the possibilities I could possibly stuff into a bottle excites me. The only limitation is the bottle itself.
I've shared with you miracles in bottles but I've never been able to save time. Bottles are meant to preserve memories and experiences. I've always dreamed of having time in a bottle. If I could make the days last forever, I would save everyday till eternity if I could. I know time would slip away from my hands and leave my bottles empty. My bottles of hopes and wishes are left empty.
A timeless realm of bottles exists in this small house. Shelves stacked with bottles filled with all assortments of colors, living or inorganic, it doesn't matter. We fill bottles with whatever fits. The silliness and joys that come from stuffing bottles with just stuff is really quite amusing. I adore sharing with you all the things to be remembered and to be known.
Look around and ponder at my collection of things I've put into bottles. See here, it's a tree in a bottle. I've planted that thing years ago as a little seed with soil and water. It is its own little garden in a bottle. Look over there, there are clouds of all precipitation in those bottles. I also have silly bottles such as bottles in bottles. But of course, I store items more down to earth such as drinks and flowers. Anyways, you be able to find nearly anything in these bottles that you could imagine. Oh all the possibilities I could possibly stuff into a bottle excites me. The only limitation is the bottle itself.
I've shared with you miracles in bottles but I've never been able to save time. Bottles are meant to preserve memories and experiences. I've always dreamed of having time in a bottle. If I could make the days last forever, I would save everyday till eternity if I could. I know time would slip away from my hands and leave my bottles empty. My bottles of hopes and wishes are left empty.
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Adaris, a belated entry.
Tanaka-sensei pairs up the class for our conversation unit today. Jason's name follows mine on roll, so he moves to take the empty seat by mine. He shakes his hair out of his eyes, arms crossed over a navy blue shirt and grey jacket. His lips part, but I panic and ask which floor the furniture department is on. He frowns—I was supposed to ask about shoes, not furniture—but to my relief, continues the lesson with furniture in place of shoes.
We finish early, and I definitely do not think about how cute he is and how bad I've got it and how I need to deal with my bottled up feelings. Jason probably only sees me swinging my legs, staring off into space. He taps my shoulder, and my head snaps up out of sheer habit.
"Are you okay?" The nerd. Of course he says this in Japanese.
Daijoubu desuka?
I reply in kind.
Yes, I'm fine.
He searches my face. Our gazes meet, but I don't look away. Battery blue frames frame his dark eyes. I lick my lips. Breaking eye contact, his eyes dart there and back. He blushes. Now it's his turn to be nervous.
I…i-isn't— He clears his throat and starts again.
Isn't it hot today?
Is it? I tell myself we're just reviewing previous conversation units. My heartbeat quickens against my will. My body leans forward. The corner of my mouth lifts up. I don't fight it.
He smiles, too.
Then, shall we eat ice cream together?
I. I just. Can't. I cannot.
Feelings, they're the worst, I tell you. Romantic feelings, especially. I'm afraid I can't keep them in much longer.
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Adaris, a belated entry.
Tanaka-sensei pairs up the class for our conversation unit today. Jason's name follows mine on roll, so he moves to take the empty seat by mine. He shakes his hair out of his eyes, arms crossed over a navy blue shirt and grey jacket. His lips part, but I panic and ask which floor the furniture department is on. He frowns—I was supposed to ask about shoes, not furniture—but to my relief, continues the lesson with furniture in place of shoes.
We finish early, and I definitely do not think about how cute he is and how bad I've got it and how I need to deal with my bottled up feelings. Jason probably only sees me swinging my legs, staring off into space. He taps my shoulder, and my head snaps up out of sheer habit.
"Are you okay?" The nerd. Of course he says this in Japanese.
Daijoubu desuka?
I reply in kind.
Yes, I'm fine.
He searches my face. Our gazes meet, but I don't look away. Battery blue frames frame his dark eyes. I lick my lips. Breaking eye contact, his eyes dart there and back. He blushes. Now it's his turn to be nervous.
I…i-isn't— He clears his throat and starts again.
Isn't it hot today?
Is it? I tell myself we're just reviewing previous conversation units. My heartbeat quickens against my will. My body leans forward. The corner of my mouth lifts up. I don't fight it.
He smiles, too.
Then, shall we eat ice cream together?
I. I just. Can't. I cannot.
Feelings, they're the worst, I tell you. Romantic feelings, especially. I'm afraid I can't keep them in much longer.
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When people draw up a warm bath and put in flower petals,
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I was going to extend the deadline, but I completely forgot! Sorry about that D:
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MythicalCookie I love the idea of a serial bottler, roaming the universe for cool things. Although the topic is really cute, the piece still has a solemn, detached tone just because of the phrasing. Almost like whoever is talking has (accidentally or on purpose) lost their own emotions somewhere in their bottle collection.
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nuttysaladtree A classic high school crush, possibly reciprocated? I'm digging the more metaphoric take on the prompt, plus the maximum awkwardness of the two characters trying desperately not to flirt with each other and failing.
Thank you both for taking the time to respond! Nuttysaladtree is the winner, with MythicalCookie as the runner-up.
I was going to extend the deadline, but I completely forgot! Sorry about that D:
@
MythicalCookie I love the idea of a serial bottler, roaming the universe for cool things. Although the topic is really cute, the piece still has a solemn, detached tone just because of the phrasing. Almost like whoever is talking has (accidentally or on purpose) lost their own emotions somewhere in their bottle collection.
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nuttysaladtree A classic high school crush, possibly reciprocated? I'm digging the more metaphoric take on the prompt, plus the maximum awkwardness of the two characters trying desperately not to flirt with each other and failing.
Thank you both for taking the time to respond! Nuttysaladtree is the winner, with MythicalCookie as the runner-up.
Happy Riot of Rot, everyone!
Thank you, Adaris, for the kind words! @
MythicalCookie, do you mind prompting and judging the next round?
Happy Riot of Rot, everyone!
Thank you, Adaris, for the kind words! @
MythicalCookie, do you mind prompting and judging the next round?
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When people draw up a warm bath and put in flower petals,
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