Example Story #1: In My Pocket (654 words)

Helllllo Rivans.

This is an example of the kind of thing that'll be available for $15+ patrons. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago based on two things: a target word count of 700 words and the prompt 'When I put my hand in my pocket, that wasn't what I was expecting'.

Patrons will be able to suggest virtually anything to be added to an ongoing 'pool' of prompts. Quotes, emotions, literary devices, settings... I'd even be open to writing 'fanfic' set in the worlds of things like TV shows, movies and games, but those might be a bit more limited in what I could write about.

Note: I reserve all rights to this story and its ideas and characters. Replication or reposting of this story is an infringement of my copyright.

If you like what you read here, please consider pledging $15 or more to gain access to at least 5,000 words a month, split across one or more stories. The first month using this reward will be March 2020.

In My Pocket

“Hey, mate, got a light?”

I looked at the big man who asked the question, cars passing us by on the quiet street. I blinked and gently shook the dust from my mind.

“Yeah,” I replied, reaching into my jacket. My fingers felt something metallic, spherical, about the size of a snooker ball, and with a little rubber button on it. I accidentally pressed it, drew the item, and looked down at what was in my hand. “Oh. The Neutron Singularity.”

And then the world ended.

When I put my hand in my pocket, that wasn’t what I was expecting.

Let’s go back a bit.

“They caught the thief,” Dr Moson announced to me, leaning casually on a disassembled particle reactor.

“Did they?” I asked, leafing through the manual.

“Yup,” Moson continued, flicking a loose nut and immediately regretting it when his finger hurt. “It was Dr Raase in Applied Logistics.”

“I thought he was highly respected,” I said, losing my page and returning to the contents.

“She. And she is. Or was, I guess. The Military Police just escorted her away.”

“Who gets her office?”

“I dunno,” Moson shrugged, standing back up. “Probably someone who works in Applied Logistics.”

“Damn,” I muttered.

“I’d better get back to work,” Moson sighed, slowly walking towards the door. “Those polarities aren’t gonna reverse themselves.”

“Did you catch the game last night?” I asked, picking the manual back up off the floor.

“I did!” Moson exclaimed, rushing back to lean on the reactor.

“What was with that seven-ten split, right?”

Moson paused.

“I thought you were talking about the football.”

“I am.”

He paused again.

“What do you think of Dr Stepson in Antiquated Procedures?”

“He has some innovative theories,” I replied, consulting the Latin phrasebook.

“She. And I hear she’s getting a divorce,” Moson continued. “I might ask her out.”

“I hope it works out better than last time,” I stated, flipping the phrasebook the right way up.

“C’mon!” Moson exclaimed, looking hurt. “That would never have worked. She never forgave me for not taking her name. There couldn’t be two Dr Stepsons! I hear her new husband did, though.”

“What does he do?” I gave up on the Latin phrasebook.

“He works in the medical unit.”

“My chest’s been hurting,” I said, pressing on it and wincing.

“Then stop pushing your stitches. Lung replacements don’t heal overnight.”

“You know what I really want?”

“Don’t say a smoke.”

“Never mind.”

“You’re just lucky we’re covered,” Moson went on, leaning heavily on the reactor and staring at the ceiling. “Most jobs don’t provide organ replacements.”

I pressed my chest a bit and winced again.

“Then again, I suppose most jobs don’t grow the organs,” Moson finished.

We remained in silence, broken only by my occasional little yelp of pain.

“I guess I’d better get back to work,” Moson admitted begrudgingly.

“Did you see the other game last night?” I asked, looking up from a tray of frayed wires.

“I did!” Moson exclaimed again, facing me.

“I can’t believe he got a hole in one.”

Moson paused.

“In...tennis..?”

There was silence for a few seconds before a there was a loud clatter, not unlike the sound of a tray hitting the floor.

“I should go back to work now,” Moson sighed firmly.

I looked down at the wires that had scattered across the floor.

“I’m going home,” I stated.

“Will I see you at the pub later?” Moson asked, edging out the door.

“Yeah,” I answered, pulling on my jacket. “I just need to grab something from the break room.”

“Okie dokie!” Moson’s hand waved in from the corridor and he was gone.

I looked for a moment at the mess of my lab and strolled past the break room, down a lift and into the vault. I stood, thinking, before settling on the Neutron Singularity and stuffing it in my pocket.

That’d fetch a good price next.