# Literary Maneuvers August 2020: The New Normal



## Harper J. Cole (Aug 1, 2020)

Literary Maneuvers, August 2020

"The New Normal"

650 words, deadline 23:59 GMT / 18:59 EST, Sunday, 16 August​


Introduction

This month you will be following the prompt: *The New Normal*​
 Pick your own title, write about whatever you want, as long as it fits the prompt. You have 650 words of fiction in which to do this. 

If you win, you'll get a badge pinned to your profile, plus the chance to write for our Feb 2021 Grand Fiction Challenge which carries cash prizes.


Judging

The judges this month are SueC, Tiamat, and one other (me if I can't find a volunteer). For those interested in judging, let me know via PM or in the new Coffee Shop. If you wish to know more about scoring, take a look at the NEW JUDGING GUIDE which also includes a template to use for your scoring. Please use this template for consistency. 


Additional

All entries that wish to retain their first rights should post in the LM WORKSHOP THREAD. 

All anonymous entries will be PMed to myself and please note in the PM if you want your entry posted in the workshop

Lastly, why not check out this ancient text on how to best approach this task.


Rules




All forum rules apply. The LM competition is considered a creative area of the forum. If your story contains inappropriate language or content, do not forget add a disclaimer or it could result in disciplinary actions being taken. Click here for the full list of rules and guidelines of the forum.
No Poetry! Nothing against you poets out there, but this isn’t a place for your poems. Head on over to the poetry challenges for good competition over there. Some of us fiction people wouldn’t be able to understand your work! Click here for the poetry challenges. Play the prose-poem game at your own risk.
No posts that are not entries into the competition are allowed. If you have any questions, concerns, or wish to take part in discussion please head over to the LM Coffee Shop. We’ll be glad to take care of your needs over there.
Editing your entry after posting isn’t allowed. You’ll be given a ten minute grace period, but after that your story may not be scored.
Only one entry per member.
The word limit is 650 words not including the title. If you go over - Your story will not be counted. Microsoft Word is the standard for checking this. If you are unsure of the word count and don't have Word, please send your story to me and I'll check it for you.



Everyone is welcome to participate, including judges. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score, though some judges are happy to let you know their score for you privately. Please refrain from 'like'-ing or 'lol'-ing an entry until the scores are posted.


Judges: If you could send the scores no later than *August 31st* it will ensure a timely release of results. Much later than that and I will have to post with what I have. Again, please see the Judging Guidelines if you have questions. Following the suggested formatting will be much appreciated, too.


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## bdcharles (Aug 4, 2020)

*Truth.US*


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## Tim (Aug 5, 2020)

https://www.writingforums.com/threa...ust-2020-The-New-Normal?p=2299347#post2299347


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## Harper J. Cole (Aug 9, 2020)

*Tape 62 - 393 Words - August 2020 LM*

Tape 62

Track 01

[Papers shuffle]

Roberts: The window’s rather interesting isn’t it, Mr. Charlie? Or is it my guard?

Charlie: F-forgive me, Jack—

Roberts: _Please _call me Chief Roberts, Charlie.

Charlie: Ha...sorry.

Roberts: Stop stuttering.

[Fingers crack]

Roberts: Let’s cut to the chase, Charlie...you’re...creations?

Charlie: My robots? Yes...I knew it. They’ll change the world. No, no...they will..._be _the world. The new world...my world…

[Incoherent mumbling from Charlie]

Roberts: Let’s keep our head here, right Charlie?

[Silence]

[Roberts clears throat]

Roberts: And why are you so confident in them…”changing the world”...as you say.

Charlie: Well imagine, Ja—er, Roberts, you have some sort of physical disability...or, heck, even mental, and there’s a robot to fix it? Or a part of a robot to replace it?

Roberts: In theory, Charlie, it sounds fascinating. But what about these?

[Papers slap on desk]

Charlie: Oh...minor setbacks.

[Roberts exhales sharply]

Roberts: These people, Charlie—may I remind you..._people_—are seriously injured, or…

[Papers shift]

Charlie: Ugh. People. Bodies. So...weak. Was it my fault...really?

Roberts: You seem to be much more interested in preserving your robots than people. She could...die, Mr. Charlie.

Charlie: And what would that mean? Another body gone...for the sake of more bodies saved...by my creations!

Roberts: Charlie, you’re testing my patience.

Charlie: I really am a genius, Roberts. You’re not understanding this. No sickness or injuries! A new normal! All because of me!

Roberts: We would be more robot than human!

[Charlie slams hands on desk]

Charlie: That’s it, Roberts! That’s it!

[Charlie laughs]

Roberts: Well, I’m sorry, Charlie. But what you’re doing isn’t legal. We’re going to have to arrest you, and disable your—

Charlie: NO! Not my creations! Please! If I’m locked away, they won’t be able to function! And you can’t...you can’t..._disable _them!

Roberts [mumbling to Johnson]: We have to put him in an asylum instead…

Charlie: Oh, can it, Roberts! You can kill me and I wouldn’t care! This body is useless! Just don’t destroy my creations!

Roberts: Johnson, handcuff this man.

[Scuffling]

Charlie: NO! Don’t do this! I’ll be back, you bastard! You will rue this day! I will come back! I _will_! I send armies and armies and _armies_ of my creations all on _you! Every last one of you!
_
[Static]

_Click._


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## ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord (Aug 9, 2020)

The Enchantment Over Woodward City

Judge Entry (649 words)


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## Matchu (Aug 11, 2020)

A Bridge Too Far Off, 650

https://www.writingforums.com/threads/189065-LM-Secure-Thread-August-2020-The-New-Normal?p=2298704#post2298704


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## Mish (Aug 12, 2020)

*Mercantile Synergies Employee Risk Minimization Policy (640w)*


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## epimetheus (Aug 12, 2020)

Alexa


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## Harper J. Cole (Aug 12, 2020)

Leaving Home


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## Harper J. Cole (Aug 12, 2020)

The Deep


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## Harper J. Cole (Aug 13, 2020)

BLOODRED


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## Tiamat (Aug 13, 2020)

*Trolling - 551 words*

Sent From: “Sis” <carlicious@omgmail.com>
Sent To: Dylan Anderson <danderson@uquebec.ca>
Subject: Thought You Ought To Know
Date: Friday, October 21, 2022 09:55:32

Hey Dylan!

Sorry for the radio silence the last six months. It’s been crazy, but we’re finally getting the communication lines opened again. Canada is the first country we’ve been able to communicate with, so I wanted to let you know I’m okay. Good thing you decided to study French in Quebec instead of hopping all the way over to France. Anyways, this is gonna sound insane, so I’m just gonna come right out and say it.

On a random Thursday back in April, we were invaded by trolls. Like, literally. Think the Three Billy Goats Gruff, Grendel, Professor Quirrell on Halloween, Tom, Bert, and William (Bill) Huggins. Legit, honest-to-freaking-God trolls.

I was in the carwash when it happened. One minute, the washer strips were sudsing up my windshield and the next, a green-tinged, lumpy thing broke through the concrete floor. The rinse cycle burned like hell when I jumped out of the car and took off running in the opposite direction. Then another troll burst through the pavement right in front of me, but instead of gnashing its teeth and grinding me to a pulp or whatever it is that trolls do, it held out a single flower. I was so shocked that I actually reached out and took it. I even mumbled a “thanks,” like an idiot because that’s what you say when you’re given a present, right?

By the time I got home and turned on the TV, it was all over. The trolls had organized a coup. I’m not sure what they did with the president, the house, the senate, or any of them really. All I know is they’re gone, the military was decommissioned, and the trolls took their place. Resistance was met was daffodils. Literally. You try arguing with a ten-ton sentient boulder with opposable thumbs and bulletproof skin while it’s pushing daffodils at you as though it wants to go on a date.

They didn’t overwhelm us so much as confuse us. For every show of violence on our part—missiles, guns, tanks—they responded with flowers and vines and other things that grow. Not that we had many chances for violence. The trolls seemed to anticipate that we might not react kindly to their sudden appearance. And, as I said, bulletproof. Also missile-proof. And maybe not exactly tank-proof but it turns out that tanks are not vine-proof. At least not when you have infinite vines.

Now, things are getting back to normal. Or normal-ish at any rate. Try imagining a press conference with the president, except instead of an old white guy standing at the podium, it’s one of the Easter Island heads squeezed into a suit and tie.  If someone had told me six months ago that I would one day watch the neighbor kids play patty cake with a troll in their backyard, I’d have laughed hard enough to give myself a hernia. Now though, it’s just…normal.

Hard to believe, really.

Anyways, I’ll stop there for now and let you digest some of this. Everyone’s safe though. Me, mom, dad, even Sir Fluffington. We’re all good.

Well, except for the rich. They did eat the rich.

Love ya!

Carlie <3


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## CyberWar (Aug 14, 2020)

*Ravings of a Not-so-old Grouch [650 words]*

I grew up on the wrong side of the former Iron Curtain during the tumultuous 90's. My home town was not a good place to be timid, gentle or sensitive back in those days. Show weakness on the street once, and you can look forward to your meager lunch money ending up in the pockets of the neighborhood _gopniks_ for the rest of your school life. You in turn would be coming home with a black eye every other day, depending on the mood of the said _gopniks_ on the given day. Unless of course you manned up and started to fight back no matter how badly they hurt you, until they eventually decided you weren't worth the trouble and moved on to easier victims. That was just a fact of life, and it didn't suddenly change when you turned eighteen and finished school. There were still those who tried to take whatever they wanted, those who fought to keep what little they had, and those who just bent over and took it - except that now the stakes were much higher. 


  It was not a life I would wish upon anyone, but it did teach me the importance of strength, of standing up for myself and the things I cared about. It was a dog-eat-dog world, where you either stood your ground and made the wolves back off, or you became their meal. And there were a lot of wolves back then. Whether you protected yourself at someone else's expense or even became a wolf yourself was up to you. Yet even as a wolf you did well to remember that the said rule worked both ways, and a moment of weakness could become your downfall just as easily as to the weakest of your victims. The forests of my homeland are full of unmarked graves wherein rest wolves who forgot that simple truth.


  Nowadays, however, being weak seems to be all the rage. Kids these days fancy to stand up for the weak and the oppressed - so long, of course, as there's no actual effort or personal risk involved. Job well done, pat yourself on the shoulder about how good and morally-upright you are, share it with everyone and his cousin and enjoy the stream of "likes" and "thumbs-up" on your social media account of choice. Better still, if you actually belong to a group that can in any capacity be construed as disadvantaged or unfairly oppressed - it's your privilege to announce that to the world and solicit their pity and sympathy.


  Back in my day, it was called "_inviting a good beating_". Nowadays, it's just being hip. Since you're the victim, it's now fashionable to complain about being victimized in the hope that other people who haven't met you for once in their lives will stand up for you  - which they surprisingly often pretend to do, again so long as there are no actual risks involved. Should an old-timer like myself ever point it out, there's a whole list of assorted "-ist" and "-phobe" neologisms that he and his "victim-blaming" mentality can look forward to be characterized as. I guess having a special "-ist" word for every single belief out there is another craze of yore. Should you challenge the validity of someone's real or perceived victimhood and suffering, it also seems trendy for the self-proclaimed martyrs to complain that your statement _offends_ them. If a person was being genuinely offensive back in my youth, any man worth his salt would punch him instead and call it a day.


  Unsurprisingly, I'm having trouble coming to grips with this new world and its strange ways. Acting weak and oppressed is apparently the new normal these days, and I just can't get my head around it.


  But what the hell do I know - I'm just a grouchy hick from the ass end of Eastern Europe.


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## The Carcosan Herald (Aug 14, 2020)

*Fools [650 words]*

Take a good look down at the streets below us, old friend. You see those throngs of people, crowds navigating the streets like shoals of fish in a stream? They go about their daily lives: they wake up, they have breakfast, they commute to whatever job they have along the concrete rivers beneath us. They work for eight hours, they return home, they do whatever it is they do to entertain themselves, and then they sleep to continue the cycle afresh the next day. Fools! Every one of them.

They know nothing of the sacrifices we have made so that they will continue to live their lives. Thousands have been butchered in stupid wars, robbed of their youths if not their lives, so that they can be ignorant. The sole reason for our brothers' deaths was to allow them to live on their placid island of ignorance amidst vast seas of infinity – to quote an old favourite of mine. 

I think about it every day. To be honest, most of that thinking is borne of jealousy and anger. But it is only recently that it has dawned upon me. That is their life. Theirs is a simple existence: free of pain, free from the shackles of obligation. They will never know the unspeakable horrors we face every day, old friend – whether they be the monstrosity that is a soldier at war, or the nightmares we battle long after we tear the enemy from the mortal coil. They will never find themselves questioning themselves in moments of weakness, asking: "Is the fight that so many of my beloved brothers and sisters have been murdered for one truly worth fighting?"

My life is one of death. Death to all who oppose me. Death of my friends who so foolishly follow me into battle, expecting victory to be swift and overwhelming. And hopefully, death of me at the end of a long life of meaningless struggle. That is my life. You will find no room for love, and certainly none for mercy. No, you would be a fool to fall in love with me. I offer you no children, no merriments, no guarantee that we will grow old together and die a peaceful death in each other's arms. I don't even offer you glory. I offer only pain. Despair. Oh, and don't forget about the seething blood rage – that's the fun part.

I loved once. In fact, I myself was among those fools down on the streets below. Imagine it. One day you're at the zenith of existence. You have the love of your life. You've just been selected for a scholarship at the nation's most prestigious technical college. You're at the cusp of adulthood and already your wildest dreams are within your grasp. Then one single mistake rips it right out of your hands. Instead, you're doomed to spend the rest of your life in a dungeon, being used and violated at the pleasure of some disgusting oligarch and all of his cronies. 

Your only way out is to fight. Despite the stupidity of it, the ineffable futility, you vow to go down fighting. You will fight to the death to escape them. And by a miracle, you escape. You crawl into the woods, scarred, bitten and bruised, leaving a trail of blood in your wake like slug slime. What's left to live for? You want to give up, but you carry on, even as the howls of approaching wolves reverberates through the night. And then, just as death begins to wrap its tentacles around you, you are saved by an old man. He makes you an offer you can't refuse. Keep fighting. Burn the criminals from this world. Forge a new world.

The fools below us, the scores of innocents? Their normal, old friend – happiness. Pain, anger, terror, sorrow, and hatred – that is my new normal.


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## Harper J. Cole (Aug 16, 2020)

Legacy Interrupted


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## rcallaci (Aug 16, 2020)

In the Middle of the Night (650 words)

Many of you may already know some snippets of my story from news reports, gossip, and rumor, but some memorable moments have been omitted. I know it’s hard to believe and I don’t blame any of you for thinking I belong in a loony bin, but I’m not crazy, I swear I’m not.  You just gotta believe that I’m not making this up, I know, I know, I was a young call girl with a rap sheet. Why should you believe the likes of me? I may’ve been a whore but I was a damn honest one with a limited imagination. I couldn’t make this crap up. So let me start from the beginning and tell you what you don’t know.

It all happened in the middle of the night. I was sleeping in my bed dreaming what passionate girls dream about when suddenly I was bolted awake by the blaring sound of trumpets. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw who was playing them. It was a sight beyond the pale; three beautiful winged fairies blowing away on golden trumpets. I was just wrapping my mind around this when out from the nothingness appeared the most beautiful creature one can imagine. He was handsome beyond measure with a sculpted body that made my body tingle and tremble with delight. He was a freaking elf right out of the ‘Lord of the Rings’. I felt dizzy and flushed and fainted dead away but he caught me in mid swoon. He smiled as his eyes melted into mine. I was soon to find out that he was the Elf King of the fairylands.

He put me down and gently and kissed my hand.  “My Lady, to be beside you once again, brings joy to this heart that was torn asunder when you left our realms; you’ve been lost to me for eons and now I’ve found you.”  He kissed me on my cheek and gently stroked my hair.  

I was agape, astonished, confused, and thoroughly aroused. I was shaking all over. I squeaked out a quivering reply, “Either I’ve gone mad or this is one hell of a vivid dream that I’d rather not wake up from. Unfortunately, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m just a whore from Brooklyn.” 

“And what a magnificent whore you are”, said the super-hot Elf King. “I’m not mistaken, my queen. You’re the daughter, as well as the future mother of the All-Mother. Your Mother’s essence that has dwelled within you for the past millennia is now ready to be personified and born into this age. With my seed flowing unto your womb; SHE, who is known by many names will be reborn and shall walk the earth once again. She’s known to humans as Mother Nature, to elves as Gaia, and to God as Asherah.” 

I was stunned beyond belief. This delicious Elf was going to put his man-juice in me. Yippy   Yippy Yi Yay! I’m gonna give birth to Mother Nature!  I gotta puke, pee, and poo. I’m a freaking Elf Queen. Holy Sh*t! 

The Elf King felt my desire and sensed my panic. He whisked me away to the fairylands and made love to me on a bed of flowers. All my doubts and trepidations melted away in-between the petals. 

.....................
​Well that’s about the gist of it. I now live in the fairylands, fat, happy, and pregnant. Magic, fairies, witches, elves, and all things supernatural, are my new normal. I was sent back here after my memories and Elfhood were reawakened to warn humanity about their impending doom. Gaia will be heartbroken at the damage done to earth. But there’s still time to change your destructive ways. 

A pregnant elf with Spock ears caused quite a stir, that’s what all the fuss was about. It’s not my elfish appearance you should be worried about. It’s your continued existence...


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## Harper J. Cole (Aug 16, 2020)

-half passed fore-


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