I, Effing Feline, believes that if at first you don’t succeed, try one more time and then quit. Last week’s manuscript evaluation service garnered no nibbles, so I’m changing the focus slightly. It’s now a document shredding service. It’ll be FREE! Which means, of course, that I shall get rich!
New tale today. Sort of new; I did excerpts from Newborn earlier in the year, but Mr V is nothing if not a slow writer, determined to get everything
write right. My apologies to those who remember the opening, but I’m too busy with my new business to read beyond page one. BTW, some of you might recognize the opening line, which Mr V stole from some loser named Charles Dickens.
I was born.
One moment I didn’t exist and never had existed and then, blink, I stood in a clearing, fully dressed, well-armed, and impatient to tackle my Destiny.
Like a magnet seeking north, I strode toward Destiny, downhill and to my left—baby’s first step—and tripped. Rising slowly, I stretched my arms out for balance against the world’s unexpected hazards.
“Careful,” I whispered—baby’s first word, spoken in a creamy soprano that soothed my ears. I looked around, which I should’ve done before taking a step. How could I kill if I couldn’t even walk?
Effing Feline back again. How, you might ask, can I get rich if I shred documents for free? Simple. I’ll charge neighborhood cats for the privilege of clawing the documents to shreds.
Killer clones, like killer robots and killer cyborgs, are usually portrayed as supermen. It’s the science fiction way of waving a magic wand and giving a character special powers. But in reality, not all clones would be perfect–especially if they’re designed to live for only a few hours.
What would it be like to be such a clone? To know nothing except your implanted Destiny? And then to meet a sexy man, who just happens to be the bodyguard of your intended target?
Newborn is a finalist in the Pages from the Heart contest, so wish me luck.