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. After adjusting myself, the first words dictate what follows and the narrative just farts out. Sadly I’ve been unable to finish my longer stories, I’ve left them hanging for now. ajm crawford.com is an amalgamation site lovingly drafted from tbaoo and I’ve just completed a major overhaul of the content. SmashWords has published some of my outpourings and you can ensure my continued survival here. My stories and other writings are basically fiction, unless directly quoted. Some are based on reasonably true events, while others emerge from my ludicrous imagination and no, I’m not a serial killer. The lists, rants and other eclectic material is curated by my good-self.
If you’ve feedback, I’d love to hear it and hopefully learn from it. If you’ve criticism, I can 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. They did not know that he had lobed the spear at the craft, but that didn’t matter now.
Things had changed for the worse.
The boffins had nearly shit themselves when the stun blast had gone off, the noise it made was half the deal of it’s use. Frighten the air out of the target and those unfortunates around it, either friend or foe, it didn’t matter. It was to frighten as well as stun. After the head scientist gathered her senses, she asked what the hell was going on, why did you set off the stun blast ? and as Moony and the chief were the only ones who knew the reason for the attack, his explanation to the recovering white coats took some 3 minutes.