creative Prompt #208 - Creative

[comicfan]

Well, your life hasn’t exactly been going as you wished. One day you go for lunch at the local restaurant only to have a young woman begin to pass your table and turn suddenly.  She turns pale before she grabs your hand. What is it this medium has to tell you that has her so scared?

[Mann Ramblings]

My first prompt contribution!  :Vic2: Hopefully this will be the first of many!

 

I was having writer's block on a short story I'm working on and realized I needed a transition scene. Decided to use this prompt for an idea. Here's the rough draft:

 

 

 

Erron looked down at the synthesized protein masquerading as eggs on his plate. How this diner could justify serving this travesty was beyond him. Even the smell was wrong. He picked at it with his utensil and promptly set it on the table. There was no way he was eating this. The triangle of toast was passable, at least they had real bread. It wasn’t helping though because his nerves were so on edge.

 

This diner in the spaceport was close to the Santa Claus’s landing bay. It was really the only reason he chose it. It certainly wasn’t for the four star cuisine. At least he could see the anti-grav palette that held the crates with all his worldly possessions from his seat. Erron had packed immediately upon returning to his room and simply couldn’t sleep. The whole task had been sadly faster than he would have liked to admit. Now he had time to burn before he was expected. He didn’t want to seem too eager.

 

Captain Danverse told him he would be meeting with his Security Chief for his indoctrination. There was a ship tour, procedures to go over and a work contract to sign. Two years off planet wasn’t that long really. From what he’d researched, most crew members extended their contracts multiple times, so the Santa Claus couldn't be that bad. On the plus side, he’d be allowed to cook for others again. That would make up for most shortcomings. Erron felt fairly confident he was doing the right thing. Fairly.

 

It’s not as if he had much choice. He needed the job. When the server brought the bill for his, what we will call for lack of a better word, breakfast; he cringed when he pressed his finger to the DNA ID scanner. If there hadn’t been enough credits in his account he would have been in trouble.

 

Why he continued to sip at the bitter, burned coffee, he simply didn’t know. It certainly wasn’t doing his stomach any favors. The diner was fairly full. Apparently being cheap overrode the food quality in this establishment. Granted, Erron silently admitted to himself that he may simply be a food snob.

 

The patrons seemed mostly working class and pleasantly enjoyed their breakfasts. Some were no doubt station regulars that chatted with the servers and cook with a family like familiarity. A warm camaraderie filled the place and that made Erron feel smaller somehow. What he wouldn’t give to feel like he belonged somewhere. He’d lost that when Toby hadn’t even fought for him when he was fired and evicted.

It wasn’t fair. Erron thought he had it all: a loving partner, a job he excelled at and a promising future. All of it scrubbed away without as much as an acknowledgement of regret on their parts. A young couple walked into the diner and sat at the counter, holding hands the entire time. The ache in his chest twisted deeper. Fucking Heteros.

 

The coffee had long since gone cold, but somehow it tasted better that way, so he waved off the server when she tried to refill. Erron looked at the time glowing on the wall in amber letters. An hour more, then he could start his new life.

 

An older woman shuffled into the diner. Her clothes were tattered, and she was slightly dirty. The diner’s staff had decided to ignore her, perhaps they knew who she was and new better than to engage her. Erron was about to follow their example when her grey eyes suddenly bore down on him.

 

With a stern purpose she strode over in his direction. Erron startled when she approached his table and clamped her dirty hand on his wrist. He pulled back slightly, but her grip was firmer than he expected.

 

“You’ve lost someone very close to you,” she said. Her voice was raspy and Erron couldn’t help but look into her glassy eyes.

 

“That’s a little vague.”

 

“You’re about to travel a great distance.” She continued to speak as if she was barely aware of his response.

 

Erron’s brow furrowed. “I am in a spaceport.”

 

“Someone will be on board that you thought you’d lost long ago.”

 

Erron froze. Gamin was on board. It had been years since they’d laid eyes on one another. Part of the gnawing at his gut was whether he would be happy to see him or not. He’d never learned what happened between the man and his mother that drove him away and not knowing had driven him crazy.

 

“You think you’ve lost the ability to love another but you’ll find it on board once again.”

 

Words refused to form when Erron opened his mouth. Could she really be a psi? He’d never met one before; they were far and few between. Could she be telling him his future? She stood silent as he pondered. It wasn’t so much that he believed her; he just really wanted to.

 

“Do you see anything else?” Erron’s response was timid and quiet.

 

“Of course, child,” her rough voice cooed, “It’ll cost you ten credits.”

 

Erron’s trance was broken by the sound of snickering in the diner. A chubby, greasy man in a grey coverall and cap sat at the counter looking back at him with the broadest grin.

 

“Myrna’s caught another one,” he chortled.

 

The regulars burst into laughter. Even the old woman still attached to his wrist was beginning to smile. Erron could feel the heat in his face and along the edges of his ears as the others reveled in their inside joke at his expense. He jerked out of Myrna’s hold as she began to cackle. Erron felt so stupid. Of course, she wasn’t psychic. She was just a practical joker or con artist, and these people were all in on it.

 

“Sons of bitches can all bugger off…,” he growled.

 

Snatching his cap off the table, Erron stalked out of the diner all too aware of the mocking laughs and eyes that were directed his way. He slammed his cap on his head as he approached his palette. Fuming, he roughly checked the straps holding his crates in place. Once he was convinced they were secure, he powered up the palette. The metal skid hummed to life, floating a half meter from the floor. He grabbed the handle and impatiently pulled his pack towards the dock.

 

If Erron had any doubts before, they were all gone now. He couldn’t wait to get off this fucking planet.

[comicfan]

Interesting start here. I can't wait to see where you take it.

[Ieshwar]

Interesting world you created here. Do you plan to continue it?

 

Well done

 

Cheers

Ieshwar

[layla]

Oh i want to read more about Erron now, especially if he's getting on the Santa Claus. I love the world you've created and hope you'll have more stories set in it.

[Mann Ramblings]

That's my plan. With a crew of over thirty I have the opportunity to make stories for various crew members. This one is planned on being a short story that hopefully (fingers crossed) will post right after or soon after the completion of "The Luxorian Fugitive."

[joann414]

You are certainly off to a great start with Erron's story.  Waiting to see what happens when he is on board.  Is all that he was told going to come true?

[Mann Ramblings]

For shame, Joann! Trying to know the story before it's even written let alone posted! Bad girl!