A terribly small number of people, namely one, asked how or where I get the ideas for my short stories. Well dear “interested” reader, I don’t really know. When the mood or weather conditions suit I’ll sit at the computer and open a blank page. The first words dictate what follows and the narrative just farts out. For some reason I’ve been unable to finish my longer stories, they’ve been left hanging waiting for my return. (I’ve posted Lincoln Point & Space an Adventure – as they are)
ajm crawford.com is an amalgamation site lovingly drafted from two previous sites tbaoo and my silly writing. The style of tbaoo was deliberately lower case which explains why some content may remains in that format. SmashWords has published some of my outpourings and you can ensure my survival … here – My short stories & other things are basically fiction ( unless directly quoted ), some based on reasonably true events, while others emerge from my ludicrous imagination. I’m not a serial killer. If you have feedback, I’d love to hear it and hopefully learn from it. If you have criticism, I’ll learn from that too.
Three smiles beamed back. One was strained and unsettling, the other two seemed genuine. The only trouble with landing here on-top of this tribe from a long lost time on a very strange planet, was the risk of altering the time space continuum. This drama perpetuated by the common science fiction idiom, is not to upset the timeline, the future or past while applying the star trek mantra – the prime directive, not to interfere with the natural progress of a race, planet or tribe, as it is in this case.
Moony didn’t know the first thing about this science fiction storyline, he was just the pilot of the atmosphere cruiser and had the shift forced upon him by the captain of the shit-house research station he was assigned to. Captain Robert Walker was a true wanker, a master puppet of the stringless kind that followed the company’s guidelines to the letter. That in itself was not the problem though, he really was a wanker, a professional. He wouldn’t stop, he seemed to be running off to get off, on the hour every hour. This morning’s embarrassing re-assignment of duty was due to the fact that Robert had locked himself in the head and couldn’t get out to fly this damn trip, as he was rostered to.
Moony had the craft settled, turned down the air shots and the ramp door open in readiness for the troop of science boffins to disembark. He was all set to give the all clear when an as yet unseen tribe member, lobed an large angry spear at his cockpit window. The bloody thing left a huge smear of goopie slop on the screen, but did not damage anything at all. It bounced clear off the screen and fell to the ground with a thud. The three smilers seemed to be oblivious to this surprise attack from the front. In accordance with procedure, the go ahead to disembark was delayed as Moony shot the spear thrower with a stun blast and blew him right off his legs and down the steep hill he had popped up from. This did not look very good from the perspective of the smilers. The noise had drawn their smiling dials around in time to see their chief being blasted over the hill. These frightening aliens had shot their chief.