Blowout

Exercise 5: Two of your characters are having a conversation through some form of modern technology. (This could be modern as in the fast food window, modern as in “new for the 19th century” modern, or future-world modern.) How does the technology impede their communication? How does it assist? Do hijinks ensue? Or does the miscommunication have fatal results?

OK, with apologies to Tanja and other German speaking friends, as soon as I read this challenge, I could not help but think of this video from an advertisement for Berlitz language training a few years ago. It highlights the danger of miscommunications.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLSdOY-6R_U


Blowout

The light over the phone caught Cliff's eyes before he heard the klaxon, he put down his fluid density scale and walked over to the phone hood. He picked up the phone, an explosion proof design, with an ancient looking handset,  and covered his other ear with his hand. The noise of the mud pumps as they stroked, the hum of their huge electric motors deafened him and made normal conversation nearly impossible.

He could barely hear the voice on the other end, it was Billy, the tool push. He was in charge of all the rig crew, his position had gone to his head. His voice was nasal, his East Texas accent almost a foreign language to a prairie boy. "Ya'll got to cut that mud weight back, son. Ah'm fixing ta get this well drilled, and that casing run in before that storm hits."

Cliff replied "I don't think that is a good idea. I am seeing long splinters of shale coming over the shaker screens, and the mud is coming back gas cut and bubbling. The logging crew told me there are traces of gas recorded up on their sniffer at the return line. We need to weight up the mud now."

Cliff cringed when he heard Billy's reply "Screw that, boy. Start watering back, and let's get this thang drilled. Now! Do you hear me?"

Cliff turned around and walked back to the mixing hopper. A roughneck, Tom, stood there, slowly feeding another sack of barite to make the mud heavier into the hopper. His eyes opened wide when Cliff gestured with a slashing motion across his throat with the tips of his fingers to cut it, stop mixing the material.

The roughneck, a green hand, but wise,  leaned forward, and yelled into Cliff's ear "What? If we don't get the weight up, we are gonna take a gas kick!" Cliff shrugged and leaned forward to yell back in Tom's ear "I know, but that idiot tool push insists. Asshole is going to get everybody killed someday."

Cliff walked over to a standpipe, and opened a tap, water flowed into the first tank, it would be mixed in the tank with the huge agitator rotating, and stirring the contents before it flowed over into the next tank, and then into the pumps to be circulated down the drill pipe and back up out of the hole.

It was only the density of that column of drilling fluid that held back the extreme pressure found at that depth, and all the signs Cliff  saw told him it was on the edge of underbalanced right now. Any reduction in density would present a problem, the hole could slough in and stick the pipe. A kick could occur, that could cause a big bubble of gas and a further reduction in the back pressure. If that happened a blowout could be next.

Cliff put his mouth close to Tom's ear and said "Don't let the weight drop below 11.8 pounds. If it does, cut back on the water. I am going to talk to the company man. This is their well, not Billy's. Maybe he will listen to some common sense, for sure that asshole Billy ain't gonna."

He walked across the grated walkway on top of the tanks and opened the watertight door at the end of the mud pits. He stepped out of the loud steamy room and onto a grated landing. The sea air was a refreshing change from the smell of chemicals, and the oppressive wet heat. He looked up at the rig floor, saw the pipe rotating, the blocks slowly lowering as the drill bit cut through the shale thousands of feet below.

Cliff turned to go up the stairs to the offices. He looked out over the ocean and saw the standby boat, in a position a few hundred meters away, its navigation lights bobbed with the roll of the waves. It was calm, a clear night, except for a low band of cloud in the east. The clouds were the front edge of the storm that they were warned was to come. The early dawn light made the clouds stand out against the dark sky and made them appear more ominous.

He had just reached the door to the offices when a strong vibration shook the platform, Cliff looked back at the drill floor, and saw that the rotary table had stopped turning. He saw one of the roughnecks as he ran to the blowout preventer panel. He sensed rather than heard the changed tone, the new sounds. He realized the drill pipe had become stuck, and judged by the different vibration of the pumps that it had sheared off in the hole.

A low rumble reached his ears, he saw mud come blowing up from under the rig floor, it sprayed in every direction. Blowout! The platform alarm began to wail.

Cliff turned to go back to the mud pits when the rumble of the flow changed, and a ball of fire lit up the rig, as bright as daylight. Cliff was knocked flat by the blast that hit him. Flames shot up to the top of the derrick, the entire platform was smothered in flames.

© 2015 NoelHC

A short story, limited by Twitter

#WriteFridays #writingprompt: A short story has a beginning, middle & end ... And this one has only 140 characters or less. :D


She listened to his last message, she knew this could continue no longer. Going to her phone settings, she blocked his number. It was over.

© 2015 NoelHC

Photograph

I hold a faded and worn Polaroid photograph in my gnarled, bony hand. I gaze at it with rheumy eyes, the image blurry and the colors indistinct, but I see the scene in my mind as clearly as the day I took it all those fifty years ago.

I feel the sun, low on the horizon, filtering through the golden and brown leaves, the light soft and dappled, flickering as the leaves quiver in the breeze. Its rays are not as strong as they were a few weeks ago when we were last here, but it seems brighter in the clearing in the woods. Many leaves have fallen off of the branches and litter the ground below. A sweet, yet corrupt smell comes up from the leaves, the decay has already started. 

As I walk, the crisp rustle of them rubbing against each other and the crunch, as they are crushed by my shoes, adds a note of inevitability to the day. Summer is over and autumn is nearly done, soon this place will be covered with snow.

I see Natalie, sitting in front of the car. Her knees are drawn up towards her chest, her strong arms folded and resting on top of them. Her head tilts slightly to one side, the same side her long, loose ponytail cascades over her shoulder. Her hair is dark blonde, with lighter streaks running through it, catching the afternoon light, it appears to be glowing. The sunlight touches her on that side, modelling her face. Her bright green eyes are sparkling, her wide mouth open in an inviting smile. Her smile causes the dimples on her cheeks to appear, along with a crinkle on either side of her nose. 

She sits on a blanket spread on the ground, the remains of our picnic beside her. The car is behind her, new, shiny, the convertible top lowered. I saved for three years and paid cash for the 1964 Chevrolet Impala SS, gleaming in the shafts of sunlight, a deep, glossy black.

I take a picture, and out of the front of the camera comes a Polaroid, a dull and hazy grey orange at first, but slowly the image begins to appear, exactly as I saw the scene less than a minute before. I kneel on the blanket near her. "Let me see," she says. I turn the photo to her, and upon seeing it she shakes her head, hair tossing with each movement. "Throw that away, I look horrible!" she exclaims. I laugh and put the picture in my shirt pocket. I reply "Never! You look almost as fantastic in this as you do in real life."

She reaches down beside her and grabs a handful of leaves to throw at me, but before she is able to I grasp her by the wrist, pull her closer and kiss her. Pushing me away, she laughs and says "There is plenty of time for that later, come on, help me pick up here. We should really get back home before it is dark."

Reluctantly I stand up and help her gather up everything we brought. Taking opposite sides of the blanket we shake the leaves and twigs off of it, stirring the leaves on the ground beneath it.

I stow everything neatly in the trunk and then open the passenger door for her, she seats herself and swings her long legs in.  I close the door with a satisfying clunk. Walking around the front, I open my door and get in behind the wheel. I turn the key, the big V8 engine rumbles to life, I put it in gear and drive down the narrow tree-lined lane to the main road. I stop at the asphalt and check both ways before turning left, to head east back to town, I feel the sun hitting me on the back, its glow fills my rearview mirror.

Natalie slides over on the bench seat, close to me, I feel her warmth, smell the spice of her perfume. Her hair is blown around by the wind coming in over the windshield and tickles my face. There is no better feeling than the open road, the sun on your back, music playing on the radio, and a beautiful woman beside you.

We begin to drive down a small hill, I see a car approaching from the other direction, the driver has his hand up in front of his face, shielding his eyes. I see the car begin to cross over to our side of the road. I realize that he is blinded by the low sun, that he cannot see the road in front of him, he is going to hit us if I don't do something. The ditch to the right of me is steep, if we go down there the car will roll. I make a decision. The only chance is to swerve over to the wrong side of the road to avoid a collision. Natalie screams as I turn the wheel sharply and cross the center line. I can see the grill of his car, so close to the right side of us, it looks like I may have enough room and time to get past it. I can see the other driver clearly, a look of horror on his face as he suddenly can see he is on the wrong side of the road and a car is right in front of him.

I accelerate to get clear of his car, but I hear the sickening grind of metal on metal. The steering wheel is wrenched from my hands, my car begins to skid, and spin around to the left, tires squealing. A flash goes past my eyes, at that moment I realize that is Natalie being thrown from the car. 

I am blinded by sudden crushing pain, my vision goes to a bright red glow, and then all becomes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hold a faded and worn Polaroid photograph in my gnarled, bony hand. Natalie. Finally, I will rejoin her.

© 2014 NoelHC

Exercise 4: Your character holds a photograph that he or she just can’t let go. What is it about the scene depicted that holds their attention? Why has he or she been saving it all this time? Or, conversely, why has he or she made the decision to get rid of it? Where did it come from? Write a scene that tells your reader a little about the world in which your character lives through this photograph.

Soul Mates - The Meeting

I pulled up into a parking space, and shut the engine off. I was excited, adrenaline made my senses more alert, I was ready for this. I took a final look in the mirror, fluffed my hair a bit with my fingers and stepped out of the car. I wondered a little at his instructions, "Don't wear make up or fuss with your hair." I normally wear very little make up so this was not difficult to comply with, but it seemed a bit odd.

This has all happened so quickly. I can't believe I let Pam talk me into putting up a profile and a picture of myself on Plenty of Fish. I don't share pictures, I don't often even put ones of me on my Facebook page unless my two girls are in it with me. The contact ad was only up for 24 hours before I was messaged "Good morning." by an interesting looking fellow, his picture was not a great one, but he seemed attractive. We sent messages back and forth through POF for a short while.

He asked "Can I give you my cell number, so you can text me directly." I thought about this for a moment, and replied "Sure" He sent the number to me, and a moment later I looked my reply "So now what?" and hit send. His reply was immediate. We texted only a few more messages, getting to know a bit more about each other, where we lived, that sort of thing. I told him about my job, he told me he was out of work at the moment but looking for a job. It was not a surprise when he wrote "Could we get together this afternoon?"

I replied "That would be nice, we could meet at Starbucks here in the mid-afternoon."

He texted back "My car is broken down. Can you come meet me here." I knew he lived an hour away, a two hour round trip, I would have to fill up with gas, and was a bit unsure about driving all that way to meet a stranger, but at the same time I was excited, interested in meeting him in person. His easy manner in the messages intrigued me.

As I entered the mall I could not help noticing some of the mens furtive glances my way, this boosted my confidence, I knew that I looked fantastic and I felt great, keyed up, I looked forward to this.

I sent him a text "I am in the store, by the entrance." He replied "Be right there." I saw him approaching before he spotted me. I know it sounds like a cliche, but time slowed down for me, it felt as if the world stopped turning. He was beautiful. Not handsome. Not good looking. Beautiful. A beautiful man.

My knees felt weak, and my stomach was doing a little flip, and then he saw me. His face lit up with the greatest smile. I watched as he made his way towards me, he appeared confident, self-assured. He carried himself well, straight upright,and walked with an easy gait.

He reached me and opened his arms to hug me. "Hello Diane, it is great to see you. You are much more beautiful than your picture." I managed to reply "Pleased to meet you Brad, your picture doesn't do you justice either." I felt his warmth, his solid chest, his strong arms around me, and it felt great. His scent was enticing, his cologne a blend of spice and citrus. "Mmmm," I said "that cologne is so nice. What is it?" "Eternity" he replied, "I am down to the very last drops though." We stood, looking at each other, not sure what to say next, then we both said "Hi" at the same time. This made us laugh as we turned to walk through the store to the food court.

I really wanted to get a coffee, and sit down across from him and talk and talk, to learn more about him, and to gaze at his face. As we neared Starbucks he said "Never mind, the line up is too long." We strolled the length of the mall, and returned the way we came. As we walked he talked, told me all about himself. This was alternated with him telling me how beautiful he thought I was. That feeling was mutual, those were exactly my thoughts about him. He was constantly interrupted by text messages from his friends.

I turned to him and said "Let's ditch this scene." "He smiled and replied "We can go to my place, it is near." I did not hesitate, nor question at all, we left the mall and went to my car. He offered to drive, but I laughed and said "I am OK if you give me good directions." We got in, and headed out. We just entered the city street when he reached over to the radio and switched the station from my country music station to a hard rock station. "He smiled. "This is my favorite station, I listen to it all the time."

On the drive over he talked non-stop about himself, about places he worked on as we drove past them. I loved the sound of his voice. I could not help thinking about how confident, how cool he was. He sent out an aura of strength. I was conscious of his scent, clean, warm and enticing, as the air coming through the open window carried it to me.

© 2014 NoelHC

Exercise 3: Your characters are having a conversation/discussion/negotiation/argument. Who are they? How are they similar? How are they different? Write a short scene, paying careful attention to differentiating each of the characters through dialogue, actions, and attitudes. For a special bonus – no physical descriptions allowed. Instead, communicate the uniqueness of your characters to the reader using only their actions, dialogues, inner thoughts, etc.

Story cubes #WriteFridays Challenge - Voyages

King Nikolai peered out the tall window, paced around the room, and returned to the window, looking out it again, searching the horizon. Clearly anxious, he turned and seated himself at the head of a long, heavy dark table and dined alone. His heavy crown was on the table beside him.

The only light in the cavernous dining hall came through the tall window on the outer wall. The sun passed behind a bank of clouds, the room darkened .

The king picked at his meal of boiled crab, distracted and agitated. The disruption caused by the increasing darkness only served to make him more disturbed.

He got up from the table and walked over to the sole window, on the ledge was his telescope, he picked it up and peered down the road leading to the castle. Where was Sir Argent? The knight had ridden off two days ago with a small entourage to collect the taxes due from the surrounding villages.

He spotted three horses with riders as they exited the edge of the forest. Sir Argent's banner was held by one, but it almost trailed on the ground. Another rider was slumped on the neck of his mount. Only one rode upright, Sir Argent, the king recognized his distinctive helmet with its golden horns. Ten riders had left; only three returned.

As the king hurried down the stairs, and through the passages to the drawbridge he wondered what could have happened. There were rumors in the kingdom the shopkeepers and the farmers were angry with the increased taxes that were collected to fund the war against king Ethelred in the kingdom across the Great Valley.

"Open the gates!" the king commanded. "Sir Argent is approaching." He watched as the guards applied their strength to the long handles on the gears that connected to the chains that lowered the drawbridge down over the moat surrounding the castle. The gears creaked, the chains rattled, and the huge gate thudded heavily as it hit the ground on the other side.

The three riders crossed the bridge, the king could see they were injured. Sir Anthony turned to the castle guard and commanded "Close the gates, they are right behind us!" He dismounted and faced the king. "Your Grace," as he handed over a small leopard fur pouch "this is all we could collect. We were attacked by a large angry mob in Middleford. Farmers, yeomen, the shopkeepers, there were too many of them. Sir Giles, my bannerman and I were the only to survive."

King Nikolai looked at the paltry few coins, he knew he needed pots, chests full of gold to continue the battle. This war against King Ethelred had taken a heavy toll.

© 2014 NoelHC

Story cubes

Words in italics are the images on the cubes in the image

Rowan Tree

Spring

Waking, slowly, the lengthening days stir her,
From her deep strong roots, through to the very
Tips of her branches on her strong limbs
A force flows through her veins, she is the first to
Send forth her buds , opening to soft verdant leaves
And she begins to bloom, her white blossoms in clusters
Bees swarm around the bobbing heads
Collecting her pollen

Summer

Her leafy crown spreads, and shades everything
Below, protecting all from the bright sun
Birds perch in her topmost reaches
Their voices raised in morning song
Her leaves bask in the sun's rays
Taking in its power to store her strength
Through rainstorms and blustering winds
She stands firm, her roots deep and wide support her

Autumn

The days shorten, and become cooler
Her leaves turn from lustrous green to russet orange
As her plentiful fruit ripens in tight heavy bunches
Her essence begins the long journey
From the smallest twig's tip
Through the branches, into her strong arms
And into her smooth trunk, finding its way deep to her roots
To restore and sustain her

Winter

The nights are long and cold, she rests
As she meditates and prepares herself
To repeat the cycle, and bring forth life again
The birds, the squirrels, the deer have all come
To depend on her for their sustenance
Availing themselves of the fruit she brought forth
Protecting them from the harsh winter
As she slumbers in her deep, dark sleep

"Rowan is the tree of power, causing life and magic to flower." The rowan is prominent in Norse mythology as the tree from which the first woman came from, and is felt to have protective powers.

© 2014 NoelHC

Anxiety Dream Challenge

#WriteFridays Challenge on http://infamous-scribbler.com/blog/

The Challenge

EXERCISE: Write a short scene in which we learn the flavor of your character’s anxiety dreams … and why he/she/it has been having them for a week straight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Faint voices, distant, incomprehensible, echo in hollow corridors. Metal doors clang shut. Heavy soles thud on the concrete floor. The dank smell of confined bodies and disinfectant burns his nostrils.

Damp, clammy sheets cling to John's chest and arms, he struggles to free himself from their grasp. Finally he pushes the bedding off, and looks around his cell. The bars have disappeared,  the locked door replaced by his bedroom door, open.

He realizes the nightmare has returned. Every night this past week. The same scene, a prison cell. The same sounds. The same smells. The same feeling of terror. The same sense of being locked in, unable to leave.

He sits on the edge of his bed, head slumped forward. John reaches automatically for his cigarettes on the night stand, he lights one, draws a long pull of smoke in deeply, savors the flavor, and blows a stream towards the ceiling. 

"So close," he says quietly "another two months, and I would have been in the clear."

He stands up from the bed, walks to the dresser and picks up a letter, handling it like the edges will slice his fingers. He re-reads the words. "You are requested to appear for a complete audit of your taxes for the taxation year 2009. Be prepared with your tax filing, and all related income statements and receipts." He can't believe he trusted the accountant's advice, he knew it was wrong, hell, it was probably illegal.

The date has arrived, John shudders as he starts to get ready to go his appointment.

© 2014 NoelHC