Posts Tagged ‘Dialogue’

To Boldly Go

June 4, 2015 26 comments

Laura Gabrielle Feasey over at I Smith Words has started a new flash fiction thingummy called “Literary Lion”, because Literary Lion looks after the prompts, you see. This one is for up to 400 words (wow, yeah, I know right, 400 whole words!) and this week the prompt is “Space”.

I’ve gone completely literal – the first thing I think of when I hear “Space” is Captain Kirk’s famous words at the beginning of Star Trek: “Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilisations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.

I know this is my third fiction this week, but although fairly long this one is all dialogue and so quite easy to wade through :-).

I got to thinking – I bet it wasn’t that polished when he spoke those words the first time. So let’s take a look, shall we, and see how it went?

Taken from Wikipedia, Copyright probably Desilu/Paramount

Taken from Wikipedia, Copyright probably Desilu/Paramount


“Space, the final frontier,” began Kirk. The bridge crew looked around expectantly. “These are the voyages of the star ship Enterprise,” he continued. “Its five year mission, to…”

“Five years? FIVE YEARS?” cut in a Russian voice. “I told my mum I’d be back for Sunday lunch!”

“Mr Checkov,” admonished Kirk. “Do you mind? I’m trying to give an inspirational speech here.”

“Sorry, Keptin.”

“To continue,” said Kirk, “…explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilisations…”

“And shoot them!” laughed the security guard by the turbolift.

Kirk looked at him. “You’ll be dead soon enough, red-shirt cannon fodder uncredited person, so I’ll let you have your fun this time.” The security guard turned a funny shade of green, which clashed rather abominably with his red jumper.

“As I was saying,” continued Kirk, “…to boldly go where…”

“You’re splitting your infinitive, Captain.”

“What’s that, Mr Spock? Splitting my infinitive, you say? I’ll damn well split my infinitive if I like, you pedantic fool. Are you the captain? No, I’m the captain. Besides, it will probably be the most famous split infinitive in the English language by the time I’m finished. If I may?”

“Of course, Captain,” said Spock, unfazed.

“…to boldly go…” Kirk paused, glaring around the bridge as if daring someone to object, “… where no man has gone bef…”

“’Person’, Captain. Or ‘one’. ‘Man’ is a bit sexist, don’t you think?”

“Oh, good God! Janice, shortly I will be involved in America’s first interracial TV kiss with the lovely Uhura.” He winked at the Lieutenant, who ducked her head and pretended she hadn’t heard. “One thing at a time. Baby steps, Yeoman, baby steps. Now, …no man has gone before!”

He looked triumphantly around the bridge, one arm held dramatically above his head. Everyone clapped.

“Now, Mr Sulu, ahead, warp factor… what’s a sensible warp factor do you think?”

“Um, two, Captain?” hedged Sulu.

“Very good, Mr Sulu. Fast enough that we mean business, not so fast that it looks like we’re rushing about like headless Ferengi. Warp factor two it is!”

And so the Enterprise went boldly towards the distant stars, the Captain’s speech but a distant, somewhat embarrassing memory.


Counting Sheep

May 15, 2014 48 comments

It may not be Friday, but it’s certainly time for Friday Fictioneers! Hosted every week by the talented Rochelle, a whole host of people write a roughly 100 word story in response to a photo, which this week has been contributed by fellow Fictioneerer Sandra Crook.

To read the other stories for this week click on the little blue froggy, whom I have named “Bracken”.


Copyright Sandra Crook

“Look out! Run for your lives and don’t look back!”

“What? Are you not asleep yet? I thought you were counting sheep?”

“Yeah, awesome zombie sheep! They’ve surrounded a car and they’re eating the occupants. There’s blood and body parts everywhere. They’re bleating ‘baa baa baaaarains!’”

“Okay, this isn’t working. Try counting something else.”

“Like what?”

“Something a little more soothing. A little more sedate. Like cows. Try counting cows. I need to sleep myself, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.”

“Cows it is then.”

Ten minutes later…

“Woah! Run!”

“Ugh. What is it now?!”

“Awesome vampire cows!”


Dry Clean Only

December 18, 2013 68 comments

It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, this being Wednesday and all! Hosted by Rochelle, near on 100 people have a go at writing 100 words in response to a photo which this week has been supplied by Jean L Hays.

Entries are added all through the week – check here to view the other entries.

I’ve gone for a bit of silly dialogue this week 🙂 .


Copyright Jean L. Hays

“Wow, that’s amazing! The colours are so vivid. It’s like being there!”

“What’s that?”

“Your hanging glass decoration thing. With the dolphin. It’s like being there! Wait, where’d the dolphin go?”

“Oh, that. That’s not a picture, it’s a portal. I expect the dolphin swam off.”

“For real? A portal? Wow, is there nothing they can’t do nowadays?”

“It’s actually quite old, as a matter of fact.”

“Cool. I’m gonna stick my hand through. I can feel the sea!”

“Watch out for the…”




“Hey, point your arm stump some place else. This suit is dry clean only!”

West Beach Story

October 5, 2013 23 comments

It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, hosted as always by Rochelle. This week’s photo comes to us courtesy of E. A. Wicklund. You can read all the entries here – stop by and take a look!

I was going to write a story entitled “Invasion!” but this morning I decided to turn it on its head and do a sort of Romeo and Juliet type thing instead. Only with seagulls!


Copyright E. A. Wicklund

“Great mating dance, Romero, but this can never work.”

“But I… I love you, Julia!”

“And I love you, but I’m ‘West Beach Raiders’.”

“And I’m ‘Town Gull Massive’. Deadly rivals, always and forever.”

“Yes. But I shall love you from afar, always and forever. Now go, go back to town before you’re missed!”

“I shall be back when I am able, Julia, my love!”

All my thoughts are consumed by her. I can’t think, I can’t eat, I can’t slee… ooh, tourist, ten o’clock high! Zero protective head gear is confirmed. Begin bombing run, bomb bay doors open, attaaaaack!