Friday, November 20, 2009

One minute writer: robot

Today's prompt over at one-minute writer was robot. It's Friday Fiction, so she encourages you to write a bit of fiction (which is what I've pretty much been using her prompts for, anyway).

Apparently, I like sci-fi. Who knew? Not only did I write something (not from my NaNo character's POV, but something totally different), but I thought it was fun enough to enter into her one-minute writer contest of the day. I should note, here, that she encourages the Friday Fiction people to take a little longer than a minute. I think this took about five.



Marcus screwed the final bolt into place, grunting with the effort. He had to make sure it was tight. Last year, all the bolts had been too loose, and his robot had fallen apart as it moved past the judges’ table, leaving scraps of metal in its wake.

He had been busy in the workshop his mom had built him in the corner of the garage for weeks, perfecting his design. But today was the day of the fair, and he had to get it right. Beads of sweat formed at his brow, but he wiped them away with the edge of his shirt. Finally, he stood back to admire his handiwork.

“Almost finished?” his mom called from the doorway. She approached his messy pile of waste and tools, wading through the oily rags. “We’ve got to load you into the car if we’re going to make it down to the school on time."

“Just a sec, ma,” he replied. He flipped a small switch on the back of the robot, and a quiet hum exuded from the machine. With a lurch, the robot moved forward, one foot in front of the other. He watched it move a few steps, his heart soaring and his head dizzy with excitement. After a few seconds, he turned it off. He didn’t want to ruin his last chance.

As he washed his hands, his mom strapped the machine into the back of the car. They drove along the bumpy road toward the middle school, and with every pothole and dip in the road, Marcus’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. Finally, his mother pulled her red sedan into the loading zone outside the gym.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, carrying the robot through the crowd of students.

“It’s my year, ma. Tonight is my night.”

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