Post Bellum Praxis - @microcosmsfic

Thought it was be impossible to use Microcosms default prompts of double decker bus and children without it turning into Harry Potter and Prisoner of Azkaban.


Post Bellum Praxis

“Does it actually drive?

“How do you think we got it here?”

Rollie hadn’t seen a wheeled vehicle much less a double decker bus outside of a museum in his short lifetime. 

“Now sit still.” The nurse pressed Rollie’s arm against the padded bar. The bus was full of ten year-olds with June birthdays going through the same procedure. Even though the Faceless arrived on Earth with the gift of anti-gravity technology, they didn’t bring a better way to inject tracking chips into their subjects. The syringe bores were as large as the straws used to puncture their allotted calorie bags.

“Hold your breath.” The bus was supposed to keep the children’s mind off of the anxiety of this process, but only made it worse. Rollie would rather go through this alone than in front a dozen other crying children. 

Pain shot up his arm before he noticed the nurse make her move. The small chip was in his arm now. Tracking his movements. Making the Faceless more comfortable at home in their latest planetary conquest.

 “You’ll get used to it. The rest of your birthdays are much easier.”

The small metal probe under his skin felt like a grain of rice. She was right, his other birthdays would be better. Eleven: aptitude screenings. Twelve: career assignments. Thirteen thru sixteen: mind sync regimen . Seventeen: mate designation. And so on.

“You’re blessed to not know of life before the Faceless. The war, the strife, the overwhelming weight of it all.” She placed the bandage on the wound. “I saw your little brother outside. I tell him you were brave and didn’t even cry.” 

Rollie and the nurse placed two fingers over their hearts reciting the Earth’s new credo, completing the new tradition. “By giving up all we gain all.”

#GGR Review Quotes

Made these little do-dads with some pull quotes from recent reviews. Definitely going to use them in the back of my new books. 

Bohemian 13

I started writing this for Microcosms, but I went off the given theme and well past the word count. Unable to reign it in for competition, I decided to love it as it is. Enjoy.

Bohemian 13

“That’s baloney.”

“I assure you it is not.”

“The fourteenth floor is just the real thirteenth floor. They just changed the buttons.”

“There is a thirteenth floor,” The elevator man yawned. Every summer the Grand Bohemian was inundated with wealthy guests, all bringing their miserable children with them.

“I heard at school that it’s unlucky, so they don’t even build one. But that makes no sense.”

“Young man, if there is not a floor you need me to drop you off at, I’m going to need you to get off my elevator.”

“I swiped a twenty from my mom’s purse this morning. It’s yours if you take me to the thirteenth floor. That’s probably more money than you make in a week.”

“Steer clear of the door,” Clive announced, simultaneously twisting the lever holding out his hand for the bribe. The nameless boy parked the twenty spot into the man’s glove.

The elevator man stopped the lift deftly between the twelfth and fourteenth floors and pushed the boy aside. The gate opened to a locked door. With a twist of the key from Clive’s ring, the thirteenth floor opened up to them.

The floor was completely unlike the others in hotel. Except for the support beams, the floor plan was completely open. Long rectangular wooden crates lay evenly across the floor like dominoes on a table. The boy cautiously stepped from the elevator while Clive remained inside.

“Wow, what is all of this?”

The hotel employee sniffed. The floor smelled sweet like fresh leather. “The Grant Bohemian was build atop an old grave site from influenza days. The only contingency the county gave us for this property was to relocate the remains. Irrationally, no other county wanted the diseased bodies. So this is our compromise. We simply moved all of them on the unused thirteenth floor.”

“That’s baloney,” the boy turned, his confidence wavering.

“Is it?” Clive shut the gate before the boy could stop him. After lowering the lift two floors he could no longer hear the brat screaming. He didn’t need the twenty dollars before, but it made it easier to walk out on this miserable job at the Grand Bohemian.