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Almost Human Big Bang
Writers' Checkpoint #4 
13th-Jun-2014 12:00 pm
Almost Human 1
This is the final writers' checkpoint for our big bang.

The deadline is past, the stories all in. Art claims will begin on Monday. Signups for artists will stay open until then so there's still time to join in.

Why are we asking you to check in again? This isn't a check on your progress; rather this is your chance to show off your story and get everyone excited about the big bang to come. So if you have a story in the big bang, post a comment and tell us something about it. Post a short exerpt, if you like (no more than about 300 words, please), or perhaps just a line or two to tease the readers.

As always, the checkpoints are optional, but I really hope you'll join in this one, even if you skipped the others.
14th-Jun-2014 11:33 pm (UTC)
My story is pre-series John-centric gen set in the interim between his emergence from his coma and his return to work. Have a snippet:

It's the last coherent thing he says, because that blessedly blank opaque window clears to reveal his father on that cold, steel slab, and then his fingers snap closed so tightly that a knuckle pops. The coroner has been kind and pulled the medical draping to his chin to spare him the worst of it, and if he were a civilian, it might've worked. But he's a cop, and he sees what she's tried so hard not to show, knows that the broad chest he used to snuggle against as a kid when he was sick with the flu and burning up in his PJs is blown wide under those staid, green sheets, perforated by two exits wounds that reduced his chest cavity to jelly.

My father! he thinks. My father! And then he's spinning on his heel and lurching away from the window and the nightmare it holds. He can't breathe, and he's sure he's going to puke, blow chunks all over the linoleum like a green-gilled rookie, and a dim, febrile part of his brain hopes that he chokes on it. If he dies, he won't have to live through this, won't have to listen to his mother's scream when he tells her that Dad is dead, brought down by some two-bit thug during a bodega robbery.

Finding himself in the restroom with no idea how he got there. Standing in the middle of the room with wet pants clinging to his legs and blinking at the urinals as though he's never seen them before. He should probably go into one of the two stalls at the back and spew his guts, cling to the porcelain and wait for the goddamn world to stop spinning, but he can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything but stare at the fluorescent lights and hope they burn away the image of his father lying dead in the street, shot down like a dog while his own colleagues crawl over the scene like maggots.

15th-Jun-2014 06:56 am (UTC)
Wow, this is really heavy duty. I can't wait to read the rest of it.
15th-Jun-2014 07:01 am (UTC)
Real life turned insane on me, with both of my parents being briefly hospitalized within days of each other. Completing my story for the bang wasn't possible, but I look forward to providing artwork for the writers who managed to finish theirs.
17th-Jun-2014 09:51 am (UTC)
And we are grateful for that. I hope your parents are doing better now. Hugs to all of you.
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