The Star Wars Fan Fic Writers? Silent Challenge!

Jedi Girl of Correlia - OOOOOOOOO you're good.

Alderaan 21 - look forward to your contribution.

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The diversity of these short stories is the beauty of this thread. Everybody has something to share. I can't help but notice that all the stories here have happened on a different planet - in a different time period of the GFFA.

A wonderful example of the fortunes of imagination.

Grand Admiral Thrawn

 

Wow! That was awesome--the Master's pain at remembering his former padawan's death was very well written. Also, the ending was really effective.

Also, to anyone who posted here--are any of these passages part of larger stories?

Filly

 

Jedi Girl ~ That was a great short story! Wow... The idea of how the Purge takes place is a very good thing to pursue.

As for me, all of my short stories are just that: short stories.

You know, I tend to think I'm a rather normal person... but then I go to the library. Out of seven books I checked out, only two aren't Star Wars related, an Arthurian book my cousin has been pestering me to read, and a book on the British Intelligence Corps for a project I have to do.

 

Saw this thread and thought is was really interesting. Wow! All the stories are great. There are a lot of talented people contributing. Looking forward to more.

 

Filly - (regarding my short stories) Sorry - the short stories iare all by their lonesome

Red Rose Knight - Thanks for joining us.

Musical jedi - I think the comment about talent was for you !

 

*laughs* I believe it's directed to all of us. But I greatly appreciate the thought.

 

Directed to all of us !

Hummm ........ I like that thought (sits back in his chair - grinning with satisfaction)

G A T

 

Novel concept, isn't it...

 

Novel concept indeed. And I think I'm addicted to it. I'm working on a new story but it isn't easy with all the work I have right now.

I was thinking of starting to post my story (a long one- with dialogues etc ..) this weekend. But I don't really know the subtlelities of posting long stories .. is there a limit or anything ? or should I limit the lenght of each post ?
I guess this one has a lot to learn.

So many questions - so less time

Grand Admiral Thrawn

 

Let's see, long stories...

My views are that it tends to be a matter of opinion. I break mine up by having main ideas and ending a post at a logical point, demarked in my .doc file by something like asterisks. You can also break off when you want to change scene or viewpoint or something along those lines. I think that these windows have a character limit, but I don't know what it is. Personally, I have never exceeded it. I'm sure you'll figure out your preferences as you go along. Learning is fun, right?

Where's your short story? And I'm greatly looking forward to your longer piece!!

 

My turn to try.

~*~*~*~*~


Unspoken

I pushed back my russet hair off of my face from the heat. The wind wasn?t blowing to let a blessed breeze cool my flushed face. Glancing up, I saw other people in the marketplace as uncomfortable in the heat as I was.

As I saw different people of all species on the main road, one caught my eye. He had short ginger color hair with a braid on the right side. The young man, probably about the same age has me, was walking beside a taller man with longer hair. They both had dark brown robes, which I thought, had to be much more unbearable in this heat than what the rest of the people were wearing.

?Why do I notice this young man over so many others?? I thought. As though sensing my gaze the young man looked right at me. He looked at me for a moment and then at the fruit at my stand. I turned my head at a sudden movement to my left, which was only two young boys running; dodging people and stalls as they went.

When I turned back, the young man stood just before me, the stand between us. I nearly jumped out of my skin and my mouth parted in surprise. If I made a sound, I do not know, for I cannot hear. It is just the way I have been, living my entire life in silence.

Now I think I know why he seems different. Not because he is a Jedi, for I have read about and seen a few of them, but he unlike so many has a calm about him. Neither he nor his companion, I am sure, have to rush about their day and hurry.

He spoke, what I do not know, but I think it was an apology. As I have always done, I took my datapad, which said I could not hear nor speak, and that said to write down what he wanted. When the boy saw the datapad his face showed surprise but he quickly nodded and took it.

After he was done, he handed it back to me. He picked up two different kinds of fruit in front of him and waited for me to write down how much it would be. After I wrote the amount down and got paid, he lingered.

I didn?t give him the datapad to ask his question. It was always the same. ?Why couldn?t I hear??, ?Why couldn?t I speak??, or ?How did this happen??

Strangely he didn?t mind and his eyes didn?t show pity or distaste for someone different. But his blue/green gaze turned from questioning to understanding. That surprised me, because more times than not, I would be viewed different because I can?t hear or understand the way others do. With what I saw in his gaze, I started to give him the datapad again, but stopped. Even though I knew he was different than others, I couldn?t bear to see what he had to say.

The older man the boy was with appeared and accepted the fruit the boy held out for him. The man didn?t say anything but smiled his thanks. He said something and did my people?s sign for goodbye and moved back to the street. The boy didn?t follow but turned and said something. I suddenly wanted to understand what he was saying. I wished that I could have given him the datapad and not been afraid. For whatever he said it must have been something nice, because his gaze was friendly. He stepped back and said goodbye.

I watched him move through the crowd of people until I could not see his brown robe anymore. As I turned back to help a new customer, I wished I had my hearing, so I could have heard what the young man had said.

 

Aww! That was really moving...awesome job!!Wow! Great interaction . Love it.

Filly

 

I wonder what he did say... Very good story. I guess Obi-Wan just has an aura about him.

 

Jenn Kenobi - welcome and thanks for the great post. I guess everybody must be asking you the same thing ... "what did he say ?"

Musical Jedi- Thanks for the tips. Here's the last one. A bit short but I like it anyways.

Grand Admiral Thrawn

-----------------------------------------------

Tott Doneeta rubbed his eyes and shook his lekki in amazement. At last. The day had come. Headclans of the R?lyek and Doneeta had combined their strengths. A new stronger headclan was born. For generations these two clans had hated each other, fighting to keep old paybacks open, never healing the wounds of the past.

The headclans bowed to each other, presenting the drapes of each clan and merging them into a new one. Tott felt a wave of relief flow from the members who attended the most important gathering of the clan. Though he didn?t want to, he felt their emotions through the force.
They were almost three hundred twi?leks in the grand chamber. An amphitheater of sorts that belonged to Clan Doneeta. The R?lyek had one too, but it had been destroyed some 5 years ago ? because of the Doneeta. The 2 headclans spoke ? one after the other, renouncing the individualities of each clan and creating a new one, strong from the fruit of the 2 most resourceful clans of Ryloth.

Tott shrugged at the thought. Of course they were resourceful, they were always plotting against each other, seeking alliances with the other clans in order to have the upper hand on the other. With so many generations of rivalry, so many alliances, the 2 Headclans knew all the secrets of all the clans on Ryloth. And as the strength of a Nation is evaluated by the strength of it?s army, the strength of a clan is defined by the information they control.

The Headclans knew this. They dreaded this day. The head clan born from the R?lyek and Doneeta was aware of all the ressources of ryll mines on the light and dark side of Ryloth, all the dealers of ryll spice and other illegal substances. But most of all, all the favors done by Clan R?lyek and Doneeta for the other clans in exchange for weapons: Slaver traffic, clan betrayal, with other clans, among the same clan, within alliances, between rivals. R?lyek and Doneeta, in their quest to destroy the other clan, had helped in all the dirty work of the other clans.

The other Headclans stood on the stage. Their presence here was necessary, it meant they recognized the birth of the new Headclan and acknowledged that the practices of either Headclan prior to this day would cease to exist. There was no typical R?lyek clan customs anymore, there was no Doneeta clan customs anymore, there was only the new Headclan customs.

*****

A wave of excitement swept through Tott. He felt dizzy, as the whole amphitheater was eager to see their Headclans soon become brothers.

As he was at the end of the vast chamber, Tott noticed a purple shadow in the corner. A black veil covered the humanoid figures? face, but he immediately recognized the feline eyes. A wave of sorrow swept past him, but that wasn?t what surprised him. He had a talent in communicating with other creatures of the Force, when he met somebody, when he looked into their eyes, he could feel what words could hardly begin to express.

And as he saw Sylvar remove the veil that covered her head, he felt her emotions like the sunlight of Ryloths? sun. He felt the lack of anger first. It had consumed her feelings so long, Tott thought he would never know her without her anger. Then there was the sorrow, not over bearing, not faked, but one of having lost so much time and so many friends in a vain attempt to correct something carved into the past. As Tott looked into her eyes, he saw she had yet lost another friend.

It was a hard lesson to learn ? Sylvar had always thought her lesson was to choose between forgiving and avenging the man who had slain her mate. Only now did she realize that the real lesson lied in accepting what had happened, not judging it.

Tott knew Ulic Qel Droma was dead, he had felt it. Especially for somebody who

 

Ooo.. this looks like fun. I think I'll try to slap together something for 9-LOM; maybe a short prelude introducing some of the Infiltrators he worked with during the OT era, in a SpecOps mission that requires absolute stealth. ::scurries off to find his notepad with all the notes on his Infiltrator team:: I'll be back.

 

Welcome aboard, Syntax! The more the merrier!

Great short, Gr-Adm-Thrawn. I liked the interaction between Tott and Sylvar. Well done! When will your longer story be up? Soon, I hope?

 

Making this one up on-the-fly, on my lunchbreak. No guarantees that I'll finish it; if I don't, I'll post the rest tonight.

Rating: PG (for action/violence, but nothing above and beyond what we see in the films)

Comm-Silence

9-LOM ducked under the rolling door to the bunker as it closed, stepping to the left of the wide doorway, into the shadows cast by the corner and the off-center lights mounted in the pitted and aging celing. The door hit the ground, loud in the empty loading dock. Louder than 9-LOM would have liked, but it meant nothing; the door was always this loud, and with no one around to hear it anyway, it was irrelevant. 9-LOM stepped forward, engaging the sound-mufflers built into his servomotors, which had been specially installed by the SpecForces mechanics when he'd transferred into Special Ops. The movement was perfectly silent as he stepped along the wall, ducking under the first window, where a pair of Imperial officers chatted. Their conversation was halted by the double-paned transparisteel, however; nothing intelligible could be gleaned from their moving mouths. With their backs turned, 9-LOM couldn't even lip-read.

He slid along the wall a bit further, until he came to an open doorway. He reached across his hip with his right hand, into the satchel hanging from his left shoulder, and pulled out the small, portable mirror. Angling it properly, he could see well down the hall; there were two stormtroopers, standing at attention outside one of the apparent offices. That would be the field commander's office 9-LOM thought to himself, and silently leapt across the doorway. If the troopers had been looking, they'd only have seen a blur of movement, dark against the shadows of the loading dock. There was an open corridor at the end of the dock, but 9-LOM's view of it was obscured by a loading truck . 9-LOM inched up behind the truck, stepped around to the left -- and saw another trooper wandering lazily down the halls. Sith!, 9-LOM thought, and spun back behind the truck, back into the shadows. 9-LOM timed his sidesteps so that he inched around the other side of the truck as the trooper walked out into the loading dock. Now 9-LOM had to make a choice: Wait for the trooper to go back, or kill him now? If I kill him, someone will stumble across him later. If I don't, he could see me later and then I'm just as screwed.

[to be continued] (lunchbreak's over )

 

This was a one-poster I posted last Valentine's Day. I edited it just a bit, but I think it will work!



~*~


The Pleasure of a Thousand Deaths


~*~


Pain.

An everlasting pain shot through her body. It encompassed her senses. It was all she knew.

A pain that was far greater than a thousand deaths. Clouding her mind with the only emotion she could feel.

A pain more frightful than your deepest, darkest nightmare. Death?s imminent figure grasped around her heart, twisting and pulling. No longer were there words to describe this level of agony.

Blood darker than the color of the scarlet sky drained from her veins, seeping through her open mouth. Closing her eyes, she accepted this fate and let her agony claim her as its own.

Soft rain fell upon her paling skin as her attacker tightened his hold around her dainty neck. Tears mixed with blood effortlessly streamed down her porcelain face, staining the hands of the man who would end her life. Forever tainting them with her blood.

Padme promised herself she would not scream. She would not grant him the pleasure of hearing her sweet cries. Instead, she opened her eyes, wanting him to see the suffering she felt. To feel the pain that ripped through her spirit. And to know that she would always love him.

The winds steady pace begin to increase causing more rain to fall in an unkind nature. Rolling hills of grass appeared to change shades with the oncoming storm. She kept her gaze on Anakins, desparate for him to see his reflection in her eyes. He needed to see himself for the monster that he was and would most likely forever be.

This was not a cry for help, but only a mere plea to remind him of the way life could
have been.

As the cool wind blew fiercely against their bodies and the power within the storm lit the sky, a single memory of the love they shared resurfaced in his mind. All logic and reasoning of the dark ways seemed to vanish momentarily from his knowledge. Slowly, he released his hand from her neck.

Padme fell in a heap to the ground, heaving and panting for any oxygen she could muster. Anakin knelt beside her, drawing her into his lap. Gently he cradled her head in the crook of his arm, titling it enough for her to see him.

Padme attempted to say his name, but a shallow river of blood prevented her from doing otherwise.

Cloudless tears swelled in his eyes as he swept his hand across her cheek. Slowly
brushing his thumb over her lips the crimson faded but her tears remained. Her hand searched for his, needing it for comfort in this dark hour.

Anakins cape hugged itself around the two, shielding them from the rain and wind. Chestnut curls hung around her creamy face, framing it to the perfect angle. There was a familiar sense of yearning in the air that could only be defined as desire. A faint smile danced across her lucious red lips, tempting him to capture them in a kiss.

Sad, blue eyes studied her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but could not manage the words. In an action of affection and a gesture meant only for her, he tenderly kissed her lips one final time.

The storm around them raged with a fury. She breathed deep, ragged breaths, coughing blood onto his cape. Convulsions wracked her body with forceful attacks, causing Anakin to hold her closer to him. Shivering in pain, she saw in his eyes a vast abyss of despair and loneliness. Her eyes fluttered shut, never again opening.

In his mind he told her he was sorry even though it was too late for her to hear.

His thoughts fell onto deaf ears.

Unheard, unrecieved, unspoken.

He rocked her still body against his, repeating the forgiving remark until the dawn came and the pleasure of a thousand deaths stole his heart.

 

welcome Syntax. look forward to reading more about those Infiltrators

Thanks Musical Jedi. I was re-reading some of the tales of the Jedi (Redemption - more specifically) when I noticed that Sylar only listened to what Tott had to say. I struck me as strange that even though he's the one who is most direct in his words, Sylvar would never be violent against him. It pushed me to go read the other comics where they appeared and everytime the bond of mutual respect appeared.

I thought I could work on that a little bit

As for the long story, This week-end - garanteed. - I was going to work on Chapter 6 tonight after watching a DVD "where the heart is" but then, all I could think of was Padme .. ummm Natalie (hits his head .. " here name is Natalie Portman, NOT Mathilda, NOT Padme ..hits his head again.) Sorry about that .

Grand Admiral Thrawn

 

Wow! You are amazing, all of you!!! :asses out French wafers and sits on low, puffy leather couch:: . Waiting for more! ! Next!

Filly

 

I want more!

Sorry, inner child surfacing. It tends to be a problem. I liked the part about 9-LOM, but it would be nice to see what happens! Patience.... The piece on Anakin and Padme was excellent. So very sad, but I'm guessing that's how their relationship is; it can't be changed.

 

Thrawn:
I didn't make 'em up -- you ever heard of Jai Raventhorn? Former Alliance SpecForces agent, main character of one of the stories in 'Tales from the New Republic'? Well... that author made up the Infiltrators, and then did nothing with them. Like.. said they exist, but never detailed 'em. My fanfics will eventually do that.
Also, Comm-Silence won't feature 'em -- 9-LOM only serves with them for 3 missions, and this isn't one of them (as in, he's a member for a while, but only does 3 missions with other Infiltrator members). Just another on-the-fly decision. You'll find I do that a lot. This one's something of a challenge, because stormtroopers always say something....
Oh well, on with the story...



A panel on 9-LOM's right thigh retracted and a small object slid out; 9-LOM removed the vibroblade with his right hand, rotating it up so that his forearm covered the blade and prevented any light from reflecting off of it. He listened for the crescendoing footsteps of the stormtrooper, and quickly scurried around the left side of the truck, keeping his head low and ducking around the front. As the trooper walked deeper into the loading dock, 9-LOM dashed into the adjacent hall. He heard the trooper's footsteps slow and the pivot of a boot on the duracrete floor, and dove into an open, dark storage closet on the right. He landed on his right shoulder, left hand already whipping the AM-125 machine-pistol out and up, and rolled onto his back as he slid to a stop inside the closet. 9-LOM had made sure to attach the silencer for the pistol well before entering the bunker. The footsteps got louder again, nearing his position, and he steadied his aim. The trooper came into view -- and promptly turned to the left, towards the door directly across the hall from the open closet, his back to 9-LOM. 9-LOM flicked a switch with his left thumb, engaging the laser sight on the machine-pistol, the red dot dancing a bit on the back of the trooper's helmet. The door opened, the trooper stepped through it, and it closed. 9-LOM switched off the laser sight, rose, and put the vibroblade back in the compartment in his thigh. He poked his head out of the storage closet, looking to the left and right, and then proceeded down the hall to the right. He stepped around the next corner, eyeing the open doorway on the left side of the hall. He continued down, peeked his head around the corner into the doorway -- and saw that it was the mess hall. And it was lunchtime. 9-LOM tried to step back from the walkway, but the whine of a blaster rifle, specifically a model E-11, charging up stopped his movement. He dove forward across the doorway, whipping his left arm out and aiming with the machine-pistol, and fired off a silenced round at the trooper who'd snuck up behind him. The same trooper whom he'd let live earlier, when he was in the storage closet. He reached across his hip into the satchel, pulling out a sticky-bomb as the downed trooper fell backward, the armor-piercing slugthrower shot exiting the back of his head and pinging off of the celing. A few stormtroopers sitting nearest to the doorway promptly stood, upon hearing the ricochet and the clatter of stormtrooper armor, and even more stood upon hearing the chirp of the sticky-bomb being armed, as 9-LOM slapped it onto the wall right next to the doorframe. Those same troopers went down again, however, as 9-LOM dove away from the doorway, and the one-second timer ran out; the wall exploded, blowing inward into the mess hall, and the celing collapsed in front of the opening. 9-LOM was thrown against the wall, his head knocking off of the duracrete, and bounced backward, falling onto his back. He stood, running a diagnostic as he rose. Vocablator -- offline. Other systems -- 90%. Indeed, the circular vocabulator built into the middle of his "face" was sparking erratically. It was most certainly offline.

Well, that solves the "comm-silence" problem, 9-LOM thought to himself. The entire base knows I'm here, too. Luckily, I cut down some of their nu

 

As for want Obi said... I really didn't think about that! LOL! But turthfully wouldn't that defeat the challenge to write a silent story?

Now if I get a bunny to make this story longer, I promise I will tell you and post a link from my bio here.

 

Jenn-Kenobi?Wow. It was a little sad but was very good and it left me wondering what he did say.

Gr-Adm-Thrawn?That was great. I really liked how the "silent" conversation went on in the middle of that crowd.

Syntax?Where?s the rest of it? Read the next part and still have the same question. Where?s the rest of it?

ThatJediGirl?Going for that happy ending, huh? I should have known it would be good and sad before I even read the title.

 

red_rose_knight:
Unfortunately, I don't have infinite time with which to spend writing these stories, which is why they're being put down piecemeal. Comm-Silence is also turning out to be a bit longer than I envisioned (well... in my head, the "stealth" part went on a little longer, actually, but I cut it and swapped it for some other stuff, because it would have gotten real repetitive, real fast).

On with the story...


9-LOM heard the thumping of fists against the computer room door, and went to work at the computer terminal. Muffled voices could be heard on the other side of the door, but nothing intelligible could be discerned. 9-LOM pulled the datapad out of his satchel, jacked it into the scomp link port on the terminal, and tapped away at the keys. His superior officers had only told him what file to search for, not what it meant. 9-LOM didn't have time to check what the file contained; he'd have to wait until he got out of here before he could read it. The file was downloading, when the door began to slide upward a bit. 9-LOM pulled out another sticky-bomb from the satchel, clipped it to the door, and armed the timer. The file continued to download, and the door slid up a bit more. Finally, with the file fully loaded on the datapad, 9-LOM yanked the datapad from the port, dropped it back in his satchel, and ducked down before the air vent at the bottom of the right wall. 9-LOM easily yanked the grating off, and ducked into the vent, which was surprisingly spacious, just as he heard the door slide up a bit more. 9-LOM picked up the pace, moving a bit faster through the vent, when an explosion rocked the walls. The vent shuddered a bit, causing 9-LOM to pause, but then he continued, moving through the vent another thirty meters. He came across a grate cover in the bottom of the vent; looking through it, he could see another vacant walkway directly beneath him. 9-LOM slammed on the grate, popping it out loudly. It clattered when it hit the ground, but 9-LOM could hear no footsteps; the hall was clear. 9-LOM dropped down into the hall, quickly scanning left and right as he did so, and then proceeded to the left. Around the corner was the flight hangar for the base; exactly what 9-LOM wanted to see. However, what he didn't want to see where the stormtroopers running towards him. Thinking quickly, 9-LOM assumed the mannerism of the LOM-series protocol droid which he started life out as; as the troopers neared, they paid him no heed, clearly ignoring the high-class disruptor rifle slung on his back. Of course they're ignoring me, 9-LOM thought. There's a Rebel terrorist on the loose in the base, and I'm just a protocol droid.

9-LOM waited for the troopers to run past and go down the hall before continuing towards the TIE Fighters and other craft. 9-LOM pulled the comlink out of his satchel, and clipped it to the side of the datapad. This negated the comlink's vocal capabilities, but allowed text transmissions.
9-LOM reporting. Vocabulator damaged. Package acquired. Need cover.

Copy, 9-LOM. Please give indication of location, came the text reply on the datapad.

[to be continued...] ( :: I know, I'm tired of this, too. Gottago again, though. I'll finish it tomorrow on my lunchbreak. I promise)