Thread: Man of Steel's Tales

I thought I'd post a short story or two that I've previously written here, and let you guys and gals help me improve my writing. Constructive criticism is appreciated greatly. I write as a hobby, mostly short stories, mostly Star Wars based.

This one is a bit weak in the latter part, I feel. I had intended to rewrite it, as the 'job' felt both out of character and a bit lame, but I've never gotten around to it. It's Star Wars based, but I don't think it will be too difficult for a non-Star Wars fan to relate to. The first half doesn't use a great deal of SW terminology, and what little is there is easy to figure out. Without further ado:

Corellian Odds

I was just stepping out of the doorway of my favorite tapcaf when she ran right into me, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Looking down at her datapad, she hadn't noticed me, and I was preoccupied thinking about the essay I had yet to write on the Bothawui Conflict. My espresso, in it's plastifoam cup, spilled all over both of us, soaking the white shirt of my academy uniform and her blue blouse as she bounced off of my chest, looking up at my face then down at the mess the dark caf had made on our respective clothing. “I-I'm so sorry-I wasn't paying attention, I am so sorry,” she stammered, the startled yet apologetic expression on her beautiful face, surrounded by straight dark hair bringing an amused smile to my own face. “Don't worry about it. I wasn't paying attention where I was going either.” The girl looked sheepishly down at my now nearly empty plastifoam mug, then spoke again. “Let me buy you another cup of caf? Please?” I couldn't very well refuse such an offer from such an attractive girl as her. “Well... sure. Okay.” So much for that essay. “Great! Come on, then.” I followed her back into the tapcaf, her hips swaying with each step under the knee-length light blue skirt she wore, her dark hair swinging against her shoulders.


“What were you drinking?” she asked, reaching the counter. “Ah, an Unguay espresso, no foam,” I replied, peeling my wayward eyes away from her hips. She placed the order, and as we waited for the drinks to be prepared, extended a hand. “I'm Tyri.” “Eoin. Nice to meet you,” I said, taking her hand. “I really am sorry for that. I'll pay for your shirt, too.” “No, no. It was partly my fault, too. If I'd been paying attention, I could have stepped out of your way.” “Well, if you're sure...” The droid behind the counter handed us our caf drinks, and Tyri nodded toward a booth near the door. “Would you like to sit with me for a minute?” “Sure.” I slid into the seat opposite her as she sat, placing her datapad on the table. Tyri blew into her cup, cooling the hot caf with her breath, then took a careful sip. “Mmm, that's good. They have the best caf here,” she said, swallowing the hot liquid. Amazed at my good fortune in meeting such an attractive girl, as my luck usually went the other ay altogether, I just nodded, smiling. “So, I notice by your uniform you go to Guntell Academy? I'm transferring there from Hinyu,” she announced.


“Yeah, it's a pretty good school. Hinyu? Isn't that in Kor Vella?” She's going to be going to Guntell. Wow. This gorgeous girl is going to be in the same classes as me... I thought to myself as I spoke. Kor Vella was the capital of my home planet of Corellia, a large, mainly tourist-oriented city. Here in Junei, a much smaller city in the shadow of the mountain ranges, we hardly ever saw any off-worlders. “Yeah. My parents got me into Hinyu, then my dad lost a lot of money gambling, and they had to transfer me because money was getting tight.” I wondered briefly why she would tell me, a complete stranger, this. “Wow. That sucks. Hope everything works out.” Tyri smiled, just that small smile nearly halting my bodily functions with it's sheer beauty. “Oh, don't worry. He does it every year or so. Kind of a tradition, usually just enough to really make my mom mad. He just overdid it this time, is all.” She shook her head, her hair falling over into her eyes, a laugh coming from her near perfect mouth. “My dad's a mess,” she said fondly, brushing the hair from her eyes with a well manicured hand.


For some reason I felt at ease with her, something I hadn't felt around a girl in years, since my sister died. I grinned widely. “Sounds like it. I think I'd like your dad.” Tyri laughed, a sparkle in her eyes. I could tell she really loved her father. “Do you have anything planned for tonight?” When the most charmingly beautiful girl you've ever seen, much less had the extreme pleasure of meeting, asks you if you're busy that night, it doesn't matter if you had a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor himself. You're suddenly not busy at all. “Not that I know of. What did you have in mind?” “A friend told me about this great Coruscanti restaurant in Thoro Square. Want to go try it out with me?” Again, the answer was a given. “That sounds great. Want me to pick you up?” She smiled again, the sight melting my heart like warm nerf butter. “Sure. Around 1900 hours? I'm in Dorm Dorn Besh Kresh.” I replied, glancing at my wrist chrono, “Okay, 1900 it is.” It was 1426 now, so that would give me better than two and a half standard hours to get ready. Maybe I could even get started on that essay. Tyri stood, as did I, and said, “Well, I'd better be going. I still need to finish unpacking. See you at 1900!” “See you then.” With that, she was gone, whisking out of the tapcaf toward the school campus. I couldn't believe it. I had a date with the most beautiful girl on Corellia.

* * * * * *

Of course, as with most things in my life, it didn't work out. By the time I got there, a friend had invited her to go to a different restaurant, and not thinking, she had been talked into it. So I was left sitting in my late-model speeder, dejectedly listening to the local radio broadcasts. That had been eighteen years ago, long before I got where I am today. I sighed, straightening up in my seat, shaking off the daydream. That was one of the more vivid memories of my younger years, just another reason I had eventually become what I had. A thief. Not just any thief, though. I only stole from the rich, preferably only Imperials or those who supported the Empire. I gave what I could to those who needed it, making the occasional donation to the Rebellion, but mainly giving to those whose lives the Empire had disrupted. I was good at what I did. A master of disguises, expert slicer and superb actor, I could bluff, slice, or con my way through anything to get the goods. Despite the large amounts of credits I often possessed, I lived modestly. I owned an upper level apartment on Coruscant, which is where I did most of my work, and another apartment back on Corellia. Neither were furnished richly, just well enough to be comfortable when I was there, which I often wasn't.


Such as today. Though I hated taking public transport on Coruscant, it was at times a necessary evil. Glancing out of the viewport beside me, I saw that the shuttle was approaching my stop. Standing, I made my way to the front of the vehicle, reaching the doors just as the transport came to a stop. Stepping through the doors down onto the worn duracrete of the busy street, I looked around, surveying the crowds. All manner of sentients could be seen in the streets, each hurrying to their respective destinations. So many people, most with jobs they likely considered important. I began to walk, heading toward Kulu Square. There were a group of buildings facing Kulu Square, including a museum and a bank. My destination was the museum. A large plaque out front proclaimed Coruscant War Museum and Memorial in bold lettering.

They had a certain artifact from the Clone Wars that I needed. Apparently there had been a top-ranking general on the side of the CIS in the Clone Wars, by the name of Grievous, and he had the habit of collecting his Jedi victims' lightsabers. He had carried on his person four of these trophies, and when he had died at the hands of a Jedi, one had been recovered and the others reproduced. It was that one functioning lightsaber on display here that I was after. I had a collector willing to pay top credit. I paused briefly at the steps leading up to the museum's entrance at this level, adjusting the collar of the uniform I wore. I had decided upon a less direct approach for this job. I had a uniform made that matched that of the security inspector, who was due to run a routine check on the museum security later today. I had all the appropriate identification and papers, and had planned it down to the minute.

Checking my chrono, I saw that I was running a good five minutes early. Perfect. I walked briskly up the steps and through the automatic doors, striding confidently, with just a hint of a limp in my left leg. I headed straight to the main security desk, nodding to the guard at the entrance, who looked at the nameplate on my chest with apprehension. Reaching the security desk, I spoke to the senior guard on duty, “Security Inspector Held Spalden. I was due to arrive later this afternoon.” The man rose from his seat quickly, dropping a flimsiplast news bulletin onto the floor in his haste. “Inspector! We weren't expecting you for several hours. What brings you so early, sir?” This was going to be too easy... “Surprise is an important element in a proper inspection, as I'm sure you well know, Mr. ...” I made a show of looking for his nameplate, which I had already noticed was missing from his uniform shirt. “Er, Julf, sir. Trew Julf.” “I see. I'll need your passcards, Mr. Julf,” I said expectantly.

Always be expectant, I'd learned. If you expect to be obeyed, you stand a much better chance of being obeyed. Trew Julf fumbled at his belt, unclipping his small ring of passcards and handing them to me wordlessly. I took them and indicated for him to follow me, as protocol called for. This was the tricky part. The shift change was in exactly fourteen minutes, and I had to be out by then, because the senior guard that would go on duty then knew the Security Inspector by sight. So I started directly for the floor that the model of General Grievous and his equipment was displayed on.

To be continued at a later date, if I don't completely rewrite it first . . .

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Let me know what you think, all opinions welcome, especially prais-- Er, constructive criticism. I know it's not all that great, but I write what my fingers type, if that makes any sense, and go back and edit it later. Most of my writing comes off the top of my head, with no real thought behind it, just . . . daydreams, really. Anyhow, please do comment. More on the way pending comments on this one.

I LOVED your plot. But im not the guy to go to for Grammar and stuff. Keep it up!

i like it good story so far the begining (with all the talking) kinda drags on a litttle, but the 2nd part is great write the rest!

Wow just wow. Your writing is very catchy. If there was a book i would read it! But short stories are short stories. I hope you become a professional writer so i can read your work. Truly you should think of a professional career.

Thanks guys! I really appreciate all the positive comments! Freefire, as I said, this isn't one of my best, and I'm not all that great at writing the social aspects of it. If that makes sense. I tend more toward a single character's inner thoughts when possible.

Elwood, thanks! I could never really write professionally, I just can't seem to keep a coherent plot going on for long.

Okay, so I figured I'd post another, and hopefully get more responses. This is one I'd actually forgotten about, and it fits well into this site. It's intended to be about a guy that discovers he has telekinetic powers through his dreams. It needs tidying up still, keep that in mind. There are a couple of things that don't really make sense as they stand; I'll try and edit that to fix it as soon as I have time, as well as add on to these. Anyway, here it is. It is untitled, as of yet.

* * * * * *

My name is Kent Clark. My parents just had to go and name me Kent; my dad, being a huge Superman fan, just couldn't resist. I can't count how many times I was picked on in middle school, because of my name. See, I'm not an especially big kid. In fact, until recently, I was pretty scrawny. Being at the top of my class didn't help, either. The smart kids always get the most flak, it seems. Luckily, I never needed glasses. That would've just been the last straw.

I guess I should start with some sort of description of myself, really. I'm eighteen years old, right about five feet ten inches tall, and pretty slim. Brown hair; cut short, and blue eyes. I'm still plagued by acne most of the time, though sometimes it miraculously clears up for a week or so at a time, only to come back as quickly as it left. Lately I've built up some decent muscle structure; I actually have a six-pack now, something I never thought I'd get. Sometimes I wonder if I'm able to get into shape easier because of my ability.

That's the real reason you're reading this, of course: my ability. I'll have sent this out to all of my family and dearest friends. I suppose I should start at the beginning, I realize I haven't been very coherent this far. It's still overwhelming to think about, to tell you the truth. Here we go:



It was last summer. I woke up one morning, in my ordinary twin-size bed, to the loud, annoying buzzing of my alarm, that had somehow been knocked off of my bedside table the night before, as I discovered when I reached for the snooze button. That same drop must have turned the alarm on, because I didn't remember setting it. I rolled over, my sheet tangling around me, and fumbled on the floor for the clock radio, tracing the cord from where it came over the top of my bedside table. I had a pounding headache, whether from the alarm or from too little sleep, I didn't know. I finally found the alarm, flipped it over, hit snooze, and managed to get it back on my nightstand where it belonged. Then, of course, I rolled back over and promptly went back to sleep. I must have fallen directly into the REM stage, because I immediately entered a dreamscape.

In my dream, I was standing alone in the middle of a huge grassy meadow, with nothing but grass and the occasional patch of wildflowers for miles in any direction. I was just standing there, obviously waiting for something or someone. After about thirty seconds, I saw a sudden rustling in the grass, maybe twenty feet in front of me. Watching it, I knew it was what I'd been waiting for. The rustling grew nearer, then a furry head popped up, about ten feet away. It appeared to be an otter. It opened it's wide mouth, and spoke, “The grass is beautiful this time of year, no? But we don't have time to stand around ogling the scenery, we must be going. They near.” This being a dream, I of course thought nothing of a talking otter, but I was curious as to who he was talking about. “Who nears?”

"Enemies. Be ware of the flowers, they hide them.” Evidently this was enough information. The otter turned and began to trundle off, the way he had come. Looking over his smooth-furred shoulder, he gestured with a paw for me to follow. I nodded, and moved, keeping pace, a few feet behind the animal. With no warning whatsoever, I was suddenly jumped from behind by a heavy form, pushing me to the ground. I rolled, coming up smoothly, facing my attacker, to see what looked like an upright bison. Walking on it's hind two legs, the creature glared at me and bellowed deeply, then charged, making a strange buzzing noise in his throat. Just as I was sure he was about to hit me, I threw up my arm and gestured at him, somehow throwing him across the field, head over heels, still making that buzzing noise, until he hit the ground a good hundred yards away with a solid thud, like a sack of potatoes, and the sound quit. I looked at my hands in awe, amazed at my ability to telekinetically throw the creature with ease.

It was then that I realized that I was dreaming. Becoming fully aware now, I turned to look for the otter behind me. Seeing no sign of the little animal, I instead turned back to the bison, who was lying in a crumpled heap a hundred yards away. Focusing, I tried to lift the body with my thoughts, but I must have become too excited at that point, as I woke up, quite quickly, with a gut-wrenching falling sensation. One moment I was trying to pick up a buffalo in a huge meadow of green grass, the next I was laying in my bed, my arms moving in the gesture I had intended to make in the dream. Sighing, I shook my head. Time to get up and start the day.

It wasn't until I was up and almost fully dressed, pulling my socks on while sitting on the side of my bed, that I noticed my alarm clock. It was laying on the floor beside my door, the cord trailing behind it, unplugged. It looked like someone had thrown it clear across the room, ripping the cord out of the socket in the process. There was a mark on the wall by the door, about even with the height of my bedside table, and a piece of the plastic at the front of the clock was broken. Could someone have come into my room while I was asleep? I looked quickly at my door, sure I had locked it the night before. Sure enough, it was locked. The way my door locks, it can't be locked, then shut, either.

Then I remembered my dream. I remembered that odd buzzing noise the bison creature had made as it charged, and how I had hurled it across the meadow with telekinesis. No. It couldn't be. But... I thought back to those nights when I was younger, when I would awake from strange dreams to find that objects in my room seemed to have moved around in the night. I hadn't thought much of it at the time; either it was just my over-active imagination, which was a great possibility at the time, or my dad messing with me, as he sometimes did. My parents have a weird sense of humor at times.

I looked again at the clock radio. It had definitely been thrown, to have the front broken like that and that mark on the wall. There had been no one besides me in the room, of this I was certain. Well, I thought, what could it hurt? I raised my hand in front of me, to point at the clock radio, and slowly crooked my finger. I imagined the alarm clock slowly rising into the air, righting itself, and flying to my hand. Nothing, as expected. I shrugged. Well, it was worth a try. I stood, picked the clock up and set it on my nightstand, plugging it in. Reaching for my watch, I reset the clock radio to the correct time.

Breakfast time.



To be continued...

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Again, please do post comments, constructive criticism, or whatever. I appreciate you taking the time to read, and post.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm able to get into shape easier because of my ability.

That's the real reason you're reading this, of course: my ability. "

This struck me as particularly effective. When I got to the last word of the first sentence, I thought "Wow, wow... hold on a second, did I miss something here? What ability?" As soon as I resumed reading, it was explained. For me, this did two things - one, it added a nice human touch, because the narrator evidently didn't know how to introduce the subject and it seems like it just sort of slipped out. Two, on a higher level, I appreciated how you as the author anticipated the reader's confusion and proceeded to address it in such a satisfying manner. After that, you pretty much have to read through the whole thing, so it was a very effective hook.

Also, in your first story, you did something vaguely similar - you mentioned an android behind the bar, and before that, a datapad. The datapad went over my head, I figured it was some sort of newfangled PDA I didn't know about, but the android thing made me stop to think - was it a metaphor, a joke about how mechanical the service guy is, or was it actually an android?! This sort of stringing along of the reader is very good for keeping people interested, because it keeps them on their toes and gives them something to think about actively as the tale unfolds.

Great job, overall! Spelling-and-grammar wise, I didn't notice any spelling mistakes, but one sentence struck me as being a tad too long -
"I woke up one morning, in my ordinary twin-size bed, to the loud, annoying buzzing of my alarm, that had somehow been knocked off of my bedside table the night before, as I discovered when I reached for the snooze button. "

I don't know what I would do with that, it's your story, but maybe cut it into two sentences or fuse some of the phrases together so there are less commas. The pacing is generally very good, but I found myself pausing a bit too much during this sentence, and it made me have to re-read it to get the full meaning.

Other than that, awesome!