Drac's Tres Short Stories

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Drac's Tres Short Stories

Post by Draconisaurus »

I Built Them to Last

Hot sun reflected on the steel towers. Tall spires, man-made trees in an industrial jungle. He could feel their heat through the window, a portal in a gas-powered car he remained unaware of as he surveyed the workmen, workers and contractors building an island vision of his own imagining.
A bodiless voice called from beside him.
"We're almost there now, Mr Hammond."
"Good, good," he said, half to the driver, half to himself as he beamed over the steady progress.
The pylons were his insistence, built to last. Island planners had advised wooden placements for power transmition, to be replaced every few years as the jungle rotted them away. But Hammond knew his island was to last. Here in the wilderness, only the finest and strongest would survive. They could spare no expense.
Coming to a stop, the Jeep now sat alongside a hill of gravel, an artificial mountain made of stones quarried from elsewhere. The door was opened for him; Hammond stepped into the jungle, taking a brief look back at the road coming out from the town. A Costa Rican contractor came up beside him.
"We're making good time, Sir. Work is slightly ahead of schedule; the concrete bases have been less trouble than we thought."
Hammond nodded, surveying spires natural and artificial.
Finally he gazed back to the construction contractor, who was searching through papers looking for some small detail. The man looked back to his white trailer and raised his hand as if to speak, before Hammond interrupted him.
"How long before it reaches the plant?"
The workman looked back.
"The geothermal plant? Three more months, give or take. We don't know how difficult the valley terrain here is to build on. But your five-month plan should be ready on schedule." The workman set the papers in his armpit, seeming to be satisfied.
Hammond felt the same, stared out again into the jungle. Here and there were wooden scaffoldings, props of wood against various construction. Workmen attacked the structures with nails and hammers, crates were set harshly onto the ground and on top of one another.
Suddenly a pile of metal rebar clanged to the ground, and in almost the same instant was heard a rumble of thunder in the distance.
"Excuse me," said the driver, "but it's my opinion that we should now get moving."
Hammond turned his face up to look at the sun, just as a layer of cloud moved in front of it. Thunder rumbled again.
Without answering, he returned to the Jeep and settled himself inside. His plan was slowly coming to fruition. Tonight, he would dream again of journeying, endless questing into the past - forging ahead, making the future.
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Re: Drac's Tres Short Stories

Post by TheIdiot »

Well, this is nice and unexpected. I thoroughly enjoy this kind of story as I find it interesting to visualize these things without the graphical limitations of a video game. :)
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Re: Drac's Tres Short Stories

Post by Draconisaurus »

Glad you like it. That was just a little test... here's the next.

Little Boxes

The construction worker stared out at the jungle. The jungle, not the stone mess laying all around him. The sun, not the cramped space between scaffolding. Carlos's break was over, and he was grumpy. He'd been grumpy during his break, too, eating InGen sandwiches and drinking InGen ale. But at least it was his time, where he could sit and fight back the flies instead of listening to more reasons why he was wrong or why he hadn't put this or that rebar in properly.
Carlos sighed, picked up the axe beside him by the wood handle. He glanced over at the small, electric box sitting next to the garbage he'd just made. Its sound it could make was annoying, it was too heavy, and it had another one of those damned InGen logos on it. What the hell, he thought. Everyone else had one too. He'd just leave it and get back to work.
Coming back to the saw horse, he found it was knocked over, a crushed beer can next to its severed leg. He didn't need to guess.
"Jose! You dim wit!"
He looked around but couldn't see him. The seagulls picking up garbage were too loud for him to hear over. Another worker walked past carrying rebar over his shoulder.
"Amigo, where are the nails?" Carlos didn't bother to sound polite.
"The nails?"
"Yeah, the nails. Someone broke the sawhorse again."
"Oh." The man looked around. "They're over in the truck, in those little boxes."
"Portland Construction?"
"No, InGen." He walked on.
Sighing, he trudged through the sandy mud through a wood door in a fence, saw others were on break. He saw three men standing together, and...
Clink!
"Woo-hooo!"
"Another one!"
Seriously?
Kerchunk!
"Yeah, yeah!"
Great. "Jose!"
Two of the men looked over. One rolled his eyes.
"Jose! This isn't break time! You lazy... What happened to the sawhorse?"
"Amigo! No one cares!" The two others laughed.
Carlos had the sudden thought to employ his axe. Not like it would help.
He couldn't think of anything else to say, and the party of throwing random rocks at paint cans continued. Sighing, he went ahead to the next wood fence, shoved it open, and saw the white truck. The back was full of tiny InGen crates. They couldn't all be nails. Some jungle bird began making a fuss, and he stared hopelessly at the boxes.
Next he heard yelling. It was Jose and his friends. What, did they cut themselves on a paint can?
That jungle bird was still making a fuss. Then, there was another bird...
It wasn't a bird. The other bird wasn't a bird either, it was that annoying sound from the ---
A sudden shape flew over from behind the fence, landing on his side of it. White, orange, scaly. It was a Raptor. One of those damn things InGen was making. This was so stupid, why - hell with it. Almost dropping his axe, he turned and ran away, into the jungle.

He didn't look up at the ridiculous hotel ad billboard no one was going to see. He was on the road, in the open. He turned right and went into the trees.
Footsteps crashed behind him, fat wet ground plants scratching his bare legs. He didn't stop to think about how to get back. The island wasn't that big. He'd find a cave or a rock or something. He'd get cover and ---
The attack came from the side. He only had a moment to look before it crashed into him and knocked him on his back. All at once his vision was filled with teeth, saliva, and rotten stench. He had a brief moment to realize he'd already raised his axe in defense, but it wasn't pointed at the animal, it was braced against its claws and face, the only reason his own face was still in one piece.
Quickly he slid the axe sideways, putting a gash in the Raptor's jaw. It released its grip just long enough for him to pull himself free, wipe the blood off his face, and run away into the bushes.
He ran and ran. It was mid-day and he quickly lost track of where he was. His boots had somehow become sopping wet. Some of the plants were sharp, and his cuts were beginning to sting. He suddenly remembered he was being chased as a half-bird, half-reptilian call sounded somewhere behind him. Then there was an answering call, up ahead.
He turned right.

Running along, beginning to limp, he finally came to a break in the trees. Spread out before him was a stone-block terrace, man-made, grass sticking up through gaps and missing pieces. Arranged in some unknown pattern were stone columns, each with a different carved image, staring at him in resentment. .Didn't someone say there was native stuff somewhere on the island?
He heard shrill shrieks, couldn't tell which direction they'd come from. How fast were these things anyway? He went into the ruins.
He found two half-broken blocks to hide between. Just as he did, both Raptors entered the clearing, their sniffing sound filling his ears. He turned himself into a ball, as if it might help him hide somehow. He started seeing things, memories in his mind, lunch boxes and cartoons, angry women and bank windows closing. He didn't really want to go home.
One of the sniffing sounds grew quieter, but it was closer. His world was very small, this mossy stone and the reptile smell, this tiny island in the Pacific, his sweat-filled gashes.
Then, without looking up, he knew the Raptor was there. He focused on the ground, the stuffy air, the axe...
He stood up all at once, ready to gut his stalker as much as he could before the end. His body was unsteady; he met the Raptor's eyes, raised his axe... but it was too fast. The reptile lunged at him, knocking him hard against the stone. His arms swung back as he landed, and he heard stones grinding together. He looked into the Raptor's yellow eyes, its unreal mouth opening slowly. It wasn't worried about losing him. He felt it was already eating him, tasting his sweaty flesh...
The grinding stone sound stopped, and suddenly his vision was blocked as dark stone fell before him. Shocked, his eyes took a moment to register the new scene: the Dinosaur's head lay flattened before him, blood oozing onto the stones beneath. A sprawled leg twitched on and off, and a painful dying ambience covered the surface of his vision. He watched and sat a while, and did nothing.
He barely noticed the other, silent stalker walk up into the scene. It surveyed its fallen partner, then its unmoving prey. Carlos and the Raptor stared at each other for a while in silence.
Both then returned to themselves, each ready to finally slay the other. The Raptor took a small step back, clicking its toe claws twice. Carlos made to get up, but in a sinking moment he saw and realized that his right leg was trapped beneath the stone block along with the already fallen hunter.
He looked forward, felt the hot breath, the putrid smell, the descending shadow.
And then it was all gone.
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Re: Drac's Tres Short Stories

Post by Draconisaurus »

So I know this was sorta long. Anyone have a chance to read it?
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Re: Drac's Tres Short Stories

Post by Rebel »

I just read it, Drac. It's pretty good, I like your writing style. I used to write quite a bit myself in my younger days, but I pretty much lost interest during the past few decades.
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Re: Drac's Tres Short Stories

Post by Draconisaurus »

Thanks. Somewhere in me is a locked up writer, who has all kinds of stuff he wants to write, but only comes out now and then. Hoping to let him get out more now.
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