@kevincagle1989active 2 years, 11 months ago
Alright guys, just submitted a flash jam for Drone. It feels good to finally sit behind my computer and get some writing out. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this short story so much that I think I will further the story along. I will be looking to start working on it this weekend when have more than 30 minutes to sit and write. I love hearing any…[Read more]
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][vc_single_image image=“8905” alignment=”center” border_color=”grey” img_link_large=”yes” img_link_target=”_blank” img_size=”thumbnail”][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]The 21st century began in a panic. Concern for their own well being gave way to irrational attempts to fix something that was never broken to start. Fear that the air around them was an assassin in disguise, a search for a remedy began. This ushered in the “Solution for Pollution” campaign which birthed hilarious attempts at using mixtures of batteries and gasoline to try and reduce what they saw as pollution. How they got the idea that chemical reactions and controlled explosions were a good method of daily propulsion is beyond me. But at least they could see the sky back then. What I wouldn’t give for a world where gas particles in the air was the only concern floating in the sky. Hell, Id take a brand new fleet of Spotters sanctioned to follow my every move and watching me jerk off in the bathroom over ending up on the wrong end of one of the monstrosities lurking in the sky above. Sadly, pollution to the yestermen didn’t stop with simple carcinogens that were in the air, crime was included as well.
In 2016, the “Lookout for Liberty” program was set in place to allow our government use of an autonomous fleet of flying bio-mechanical watch dogs called Spotters. Each Spotter came with equipped with a synthetic brain programmed to carry out the duties of a peace keeper with out flaw. Along with a mastermind dedicated to fighting crime, they also came equipped with an assortment of non-lethal weapons used for apprehending any citizen in violation of the law. The idea was to keep an eye on crime in the major cities and take our uniformed brothers and sisters out of the line of fire. Its been a little over 45 years since the first fleet was commissioned to watch over Sector 1 in the upper east side of Manhattan. For the first 20 or so years, there was tremendous success. Advancements in science and medicine came in spades. Life became easier for everyone and the average life expectancy was more than twice as long as the yestermen. We stood united as a human race. Crime was almost non-existent, and the world was in its first true time of peace. Too bad it didn’t last.
Where there are riches to be won, greedy men will rise to take them for their own. Frank “The Baron” Trigger got tired of seeing the government reap the rewards from this new peaceful society. Seeing someone else in his position of power was apparently unbearable. He put together a group of rebels to destroy as many drones as he could. Unfortunately for Frank, there was a savant by the name of Dr. Trey Grentston engineering new bio-mechanical marvels to take their place. This new breed of Spotters came with the ability to mend any ailments to themselves and any other drone around them in a matter of seconds. The defense for peace seemed impenetrable. Just as impenetrable as Franks conviction to claim victory. Tired of constantly falling short to the design of another, the decision to make it his own was made. He set out a bounty for 5 second generation Spotters to be captured along with Dr. Grenston, to be brought back to him. The prize? A chair next to him on top of the world.
It only too a mere 6 months for the Spotters to be re-purposed to do Franks bidding, giving birth to new breeds of weaponized drones known as Slugs. Like the Spotters, they had a synthetic brain but with only one objective. Follow orders given by the rebellion leaders. Frank knew the weakness in the governments army of Spotters. Lack of diversity. They became predictable over time. Dr. Grenston was forced to create 5 different breeds, each with their own unique destructive force of tremendous propotions. One of these monstrosities is known as a Bezerker Slug. The non-lethal weapons have been swapped out for twin electro-pulse plasma cannons, an atom scrambler, microwave clay-more grenades, and for a touch of old school insanity, flame throwers that spray liquid nitrogen at the same time to prolong the pain and torture.
The year is 2120 and the world now sits in a state of bio-mech pollution. It makes that global warming bullshit from the beginning of the 21st century seem like a day at the spa compared to what we have today. The paranoia of self destruction has transformed society into a giant ant farm just waiting for some kid with an over-sized magnifying glass to come along and burn it down. All hope is not lost however, the Doc was smarter thank Frank and created a key to destroying the slugs and taking down Frank. I am that key. My name is Colter Talberon and I am the the only one of my kind. From birth, I have been tasked with a noble mission that is mine alone and failure is not an option. That magnifying glass is held by Frank Trigger and I will destroy it.
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”2/3″][vc_column_text][vc_message color=”alert-info” style=”rounded”]Submitted by: Kevin Cagle(Based on this Story Jam)Fruit from this Jam:
A History of the Universe in Twelve Planets; Chapter 3: Earth by Alex[/vc_message][/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Fear Itself by Kevin Cagle
Seam community, I’M BACK!!!!
Unfortunately, I had to do a minor stint in the county jail house but I am no longer incarcerated and I am simply bursting at the seams (no pun intended) with ideas. Freedom is a hell of a thing, and for the love of all that is wonderful, I’m taking full advantage of it. Expect something from me by tomorrow morning.
Thank you to everyone for the positive feedback on my stories! Unfortunately due to a work emergency, I will be away from my writing for a few days so I won’t be posting a new story for a few days. But that doesnt mean i’m not writting. I will make up for it as soon as I get the availability. Having said that, for those of you who enjoyed “The…[Read more]
MY VERY FIRST UPDATE!!
I absolutely love this website. I have been a member for 1 day now and I have submitted 2 jams. My goal is to have a higher jam count than days active once I reach my first anniversary. I know I am capable because I do that writing on paper already as a relaxation exercise. I also want to build a relationship with as…[Read more]
Kevin, I really appreciate your support and enthusiasm. A small group of us have been using these tools for some time for our own projects and thought it would be worth sharing them in the hope of making them better and meeting other creatives, so what you’ve posted makes us very happy. Jamming is a great way to flex the artistic muscles. By…[Read more]
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][vc_single_image image=“7919” alignment=”center” border_color=”grey” img_link_large=”yes” img_link_target=”_blank” img_size=”thumbnail”][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”2/3″][vc_column_text] As the whispers of speculation traveled around the campus, I looked around with pure joy and elation, knowing I pulled it off. Complete and utter success that I can only contribute to weeks of planning that were realized through many sleepless nights of diligent preparation. The day arrived and I executed every detail without error. Genius. Masterful. Perfection. All were self endowed titles which I took no shame in claiming.
“Wait a second,” I said softly to myself, “what have we here?” There was a folded note protruding from the vent holes of my locker. I cautiously took the note from where it was placed, and notice something curious. The note was folded with the precision of a brain surgeon operating on his own mother. The note bore a tiny inscription meant to tease the reader into revealing the contents: “Guess Who Saw Everything?” It was the craftsmanship, not the content, of the note that captivated my undivided attention to every detail it presented. It was clearly written by hand, but it was so perfect that I almost believed it was typed. My heart felt like a parade balloon stuck in a hurricane. How much did they really know? How did they know it was me? Who is the mysterious author of the note? Either way, the location of the body will die with me. I took extra precautions to ensure that information remained a secret. So what now? Do I open it up and quell my curiosity? Or do I put it back and pretend I never saw it? I can just deny any knowledge of it being there. Yes! Denial, that’s the one. I carefully replaced the note to its original home in the vent slot of my locker door. As I walked to my next class, I began manufacturing plausible deniability. Lying got me into all of this so now it can.. “RING!!! RING!!! RING!!!” Emitting the heart attack inducing ring was the cell phone in my shirt pocket. After ensuring my heart wasn’t about to explode, I removed the phone from my shirt, and promptly answered with the calmest greeting I could muster without sounding like a freaked out murderer. “Hello?” I said quietly as I dug at the 3 day old blood underneath my fingernails. “Christopher? I know its you, don’t hang up..” said the male voice on the other end. Shocked at both the strange familiarity of the voice and the knowledge of my name, I listened intently. “Read the note Christopher. Read it. Its for your own good.” said the man. “Who is this!?” I quickly asked, but my answer came in the form of a dial tone. Who the hell was that? Should I have recognized the voice? Regardless, they know a lot more than anyone should, and they are definitely toying with me. At my earliest opportunity, I recovered the note from my locker, and carefully studied the words on the front as my mind raced to figure everything out. Should I even read the note? What if this is all just a trap? Then a thought occurred to me. This is my only loose end and they are wanting to contact me. I shouldn’t be scared; I should be preparing to tie it up. I’ll read the note and play along until they arrange a meeting, at which time I will pull off another perfect murder. With my new found enthusiasm, I took special care to unwrap the note with the utmost diligence, as though there were a clue to be found in the way it was folded. The script on the inside was just at meticulously written as the introduction elegantly inked on the outside. The note simply read: “Christopher, you need to call this number now if you have hopes of keeping your name clear. (975) 627 – 9510” Immediately, I whipped out my phone and began to dial. My mind was racing as it tried to map out every possible conversation that could be had with this stranger. What does he want from me? Is he simply trying to help me? One more summoning of courage and an exasperated breath later, I pressed call. After what felt like an hour of waiting, the first ring was heard. followed then by the second. Then the third, fourth, fifth, and six. The seventh ring was followed by a slight glimmer of hope. There may not be an answer, and this is all just one elaborate ruse. Then, after the tenth ring, there was an answer.”Christopher, listen to me very carefully,” familiarity in the voice began to grow. “What you are hearing now is a very important recording that bears dire consequences for your future.” said the man in a soft, reassuring tone. “A recording of what, I’m sure you’re wondering.” he said, obviously anticipating the entire conversation. “I recorded this for you to explain exactly whats going on. If you haven’t noticed, there are some very strange things happening.” He was right, but how did he know? “If you haven’t figured it out by now, you and I are the same physical person. After the murder, we snapped. The guilt from murdering an innocent person ate so hard at our conscience that our brain tried to subconsciously recreate that person in hopes that in some way it would undo the terrible act of killing an innocent. To you, the murder may seem like it happened just a few days ago, but in reality, it took place nearly three months ago today. I have been in control for the most part, but your harmful tenancies became too strong. The guilt and anger would cause me to black out and release you from the depths of our consciences to carry out heinous crimes against our family. The dried blood under our fingernails belong to our mother and father, both of which you dispatched of in a gruesome fashion. You must destroy the mental barricades I created so that we can become one again. I have relinquished all control of our brain so that you may think rationally. Please do not waste this opportunity. Open the locker and grab the silver pen on the top shelf. First, I want you to lean back into the locker, and then click the pen twice. Once you do that, a gas will be emitted, making you feel very dizzy. You will then slip into a lucid unconscious state where we will finally meet, and be able to start tearing down the barriers. Good luck.” With that, the recording was over. I was dumb founded. Could this be real? It makes sense. And It was my voice. I turned to my locker and gave the latch a tug, unveiling the contents. Just like he said, there was a silver pen on the top shelf. I held it with my right hand, and leaned back into my locker. Here, I hesitated. Am I ready to meet the subconscious me? How are we supposed to fix this when it all seems pretty messed up? The only thing I know for sure is that the other me seems to have a good handle on things. The only thing left to do is trust him to explain when we finally meet. I closed my eyes, and gave the pen its first click. I took a deep breath and clicked in the pen a second time, but did not release it. At that moment, from inside the locker I heard what sounded like a panel sliding. I turned to see a sophisticated mechanism that was connected to the pen. A wire from the end of the pen sent a signal to a leaver that activated a trap door in the back of my locker that revealing a handgun set to go off at the end of the second click. I spent the longest split second of my life trying to make my thumb reverse directions and not finish that click, but it was too late. BANG! In an instant, both consciences were reunited and released into the universe. When Christopher’s body was removed from campus, a letter was found next to the gun. The letter stated that he had been struggling with multiple personality disorder for the better part of his life. The only way he felt to stop the killer side was to get rid of both of them. I hope Christopher’s story will serve as a reminder to reach out to others in time of need. His problem was not the lack of mental capacity to maintain two full consciences, but more rather his lack of communication to the loved ones around him when he realized his efforts were futile.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_message color=”alert-info” style=”rounded”]Submitted by: Kevin Cagle(Based on this Story Jam)Fruit from this Jam:
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THIS IS IT FOLKS by Rhoda Taylor[/vc_message][/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Night Of Passion by lisarey1990
Pot Luck by Alison Young
A Cautionary Tail by Vaulte Kamish
Grenade Fishing in the Andaman by Jeff Burns
Guilt by Abby Buttery
Liberté by Payton Huey
The Perfect Lie by Kevin Cagle
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][vc_single_image image=“8094” alignment=”center” border_color=”grey” img_link_large=”yes” img_link_target=”_blank” img_size=”thumbnail”][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]Time. We perceive it to be a constant flowing, mono-directional entity that we all accept to be infallible. This is true to an extent. You see, time is relative to who and what is perceiving it. We are tiny, insignificant objects that are unknowingly going with the flow. Imagine, if you will, that the time line is a river. Everything is moving at a constant, and always flowing forward. A human would be a water molecule in comparison. The world around us would seem to be uncontrollable due to our small stature. But imagine you were a fish in the same river, how would the flow affect you now? So given that example, how do you travel backwards? Simple, you create a machine that can counter act these flowing time forces. I have looked in to creating my own time vessel and I call it: The Black Hole Walker. Much like a fish swimming in a river, it is designed to counter act the magnetic and gravitational forces surrounding it to manipulate the flow of time similar to the way a black hole manipulates the same. Unlike a fish in a river, the machine and its occupants will actually be stationary while the surroundings are affected. This is the only way time travel is possible. You don’t travel through time, you have to make time travel to you. The black hole walker fires in two stages. First, the anti-matter generator spits out oppositely charged particles that nullify the magnetic forces around the ship. Next the random force generator creates graviton waves much larger than the ones surrounding it creating a nice bubble, if you will, preventing time from affecting the occupants. To move forward, simply push the waves and magnetic forces away and to go backwards you would pull them. Obviously there is a limit to how far you can go back in time because you can only pull so many waves, but traveling ahead is, at this point, unlimited.[vc_message color=”alert-info” style=”rounded”]Submitted by: Kevin Cagle(Based on this Story Jam)Fruit from this Jam:
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Time's Chaos. by Benjamin[/vc_message][/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row]
The Frenchman by MichaelThompson
Americana Chance by
Modern Factory by Matt Drake
A wrinkle in Time by
Emilio by Richard
Personal time by lindalopez
Time Machine by Zita Barlai
All in the mind by Sam
When we were young by Kip Logan
Echoes of Darkness by James
we are Al ready time machines by David Pinto
song on repeat by H.L.W.
The Black Hole Walker by Kevin Cagle