I've been writing again, mostly flash. I have submitted a couple to various sites. I doubt I'll win, but I'm going to wait to post until I find out.
I am, however, going to post today's. It is a story based on the prompt "Use 'The opening' in a story". It's for F2K, the writing course I'm interning for. It's rather lame, but I still like it. :D
The Opening - WC 399
Captain's Log Stardate 9X327
Our leave on the planet Santorina was an immense success. The crew is well rested, with only one member in the brig. We have set course for Jalaipa, our mission to escort the medical ships supporting the rebels from EC5. From there we embark on a journey critical to the future of humankind - the exploration of the planet Zyxus and the precious metals it...
Sirens shatter the cabin's quiet, the gritty growl of the ship's communication officer quickly following.
"Captain, please report to the bridge. Unknown object on our bow, heading 358.92. Captain, please report to the bridge."
I struggled to my feet, setting aside the tumbler of scotch I'd been sipping. The job was getting old, my sense of adventure lost. I thought back to my childhood, watching reruns of Saturday Night Live, where the One True Voice struck a chord with me, again and again.
"It's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another."
Sighing, I slipped out of my slippers and slid my feet in boots I'd worn so long their stench had died. Heading out of my stateroom I was at least partially mollified by the fact that my crew was performing at top efficiency. I mentally kicked myself in the rear and hurried to the bridge.
Once I had visual, I saw the cause for alarm. This was no ordinary supply ship, nor was it any warrior vessel we'd seen before. It resembled a scorpion, huge pincers extending from either side of its maw, the opening large enough to swallow our ship.
"Any contact?" I slid into a lush leather captain's chair that enveloped me like a glove, its contours perfectly matching mine after years of being together.
"None, Captain. We've tried all frequencies, they are not responding."
The cry came a scant half-second before the missile, or torpedo, or shot, whatever it was, struck. Lights flickered, sirens screamed. I could feel the ship lurching to port.
"Get us out of here, Lieutenant! NOW!"
I felt rather than heard the huge overdrives kick in, then the surge of the warp systems. We tore through a rip in the veil of the universe, securing our escape.
Before we could catch our collective breath, we hit an invisible wall. The ship shuddered and ground to a halt. Things went dark. Things went silent. Perhaps our escape wasn't.