I decided to submit a story to the Blizzard creative writing contest. I’ve played a bit of starcraft in my day, and thought it would be a fun challenge to write a story in that universe. The minimum word length was 3000 words, which is a bit longer than I usually write. Nevertheless, here it is:

My submission

Back to regularly scheduled blog / stories from now on.

-Tom

On the Pole (part 2)

Out in the desert sun a figure stirred under a small rocky outcropping. It stumbled forward into the light. Like a man, it walked upright. The figure paused a moment, as if unsure to continue. Bones of rodents and birds crunched under the metal of its boots. The figure stopped again and looked down at it’s feet… his feet. He wanted to sleep. His arms felt heavy. He fell.

He woke up what felt like a few minutes later. There had to be a way to get back, to reach someone. He grabbed at his discarded helmet, but his arm did not seem to respond. Where was his arm? He suddenly felt nauseated. Moments later he was sitting against a rock watching a surprisingly large amount of vomit trail away into a fissure. He felt better.

Now he was walking again, walking fast. He no longer seemed to have trouble balancing and the sun felt great. He looked down and was surprised to see he was covering ground at a healthy speed. As he moved across the scarred earth his mind started to slowly piece together the flitting memories of the previous week. Among the confusion of imagery and partially recollected conversations, one fact came up again and again: He was a murderer.

***

“He musta killed somebuddy,” Ged was sick of standing in the sun. Lyle said nothing, just kept staring through the gun scope.

“His wife mebbe, or a govey…” Ged look over at Lyle, “Might be a psycho, yah I bet it! Put that psycho onna pole!”

The radio buzzed a distorted voice. Ged grabbed at his reciever, “Brenner? Hold the dang button down yah dronehumper!” He released his own call button and waited. One of the men lying in the back of the idling jeep chuckled. Ged walked over to the jeep letting out his wrenching laugh, “A drone bone! You know wha- ”

“Base corner stone incline,” Brenner’s voice rasped through the poor radio speakers. Lyle twisted a few dials on the Nikos and peered for a moment through scope. He looked at a readout on the side of the tripod and nodded to Ged.

“Gawt it! An hurry it up out there,” Ged belted into the reciever. He felt annoyed. The sun was bearing down on him with a ruthless heat and he suddenly felt the desperate urge to flee- to leave the desert and the outposts and go somewhere nice… somewhere safe. And then, just as suddenly the feeling passed and his uncanny calm returned. The sun did not notice.

“It’s friggin hot,” mumbled Ged.

Some distance away, Brenner wiped sweat off of his bald head. The day had been long and slow. The same furious sun burned the air around him as he walked along the base of a small plateau. His was a dangerous job, but he was not accosted by the same bouts of dread that plagued the rest of the crew. He wanted to be out here, away from people and politics. Away from the failed relationships and the soured dreams. Most of all, away from the military. He lifted his reciever.

“Base contour plateau,” Brenner stood motionless immediately after speaking. He held the pole steady and upright.

“Gaaaawwt it,” Ged’s voice popped through the radio a few moments later.

Brenner continued on, enjoying the quiet boredom. He briefly wondered what crap Ged was feeding the other crew members about him. He’d probably return that night to hear crew member whispering about fantastical murders and scandalous political schemes. They would never guess the truth. He was still chuckling to himself when he heard the scream.