A Short Story!

[Hippie Bowman]

Hey Everyone!  I was wondering if any of you dabble in writing like I do.  As many of you may know, I am kind of a Space Hippie.  I love anything that has to do with space travel.  I know that I will never experience space first hand, so I experience as much "space" as I can in this wonderful world we call Second Life.  Here is a short story I whipped up, with Second Life weaved into it.  I hope you enjoy!

A good ship

The planet looms below.  I am in my space craft.  A good ship, with lots of features and scripts.  A planetary light freighter built with prims, scripts, and textures.  A crew of two.  I feel the weightlessness of space, and the gentle pull from the sit script in the restraining straps, that keep me in place in the pilot seat.  It is quiet and cold outside in deep space. I go into mouse look, and look out of the view port and stare in wonder at the vastness of deep space. But space is not empty. It is far from empty.  Below is the local planet that my craft is orbiting.  I see the puffy clouds in the planets lower atmosphere.  Scripted thunder storms come into view as the sim line approaches. Wispy clouds that are high in the planets atmosphere, come into view.  It seems that I can reach out and touch them, they seem so close.  I look at one of the steering thrusters, that have textures set to high shiny.  The local sun glinting its hard radiation, and full daylight off the thruster.  I  hear the throb of the 2  spacecrafts engine sound prims, and the clicks and whines of the the auxiliary equipment sound prims on board.  I hear the static and chatter of the sub space radio, and group private chat. The stars are bright, but they don't flicker in deep space.  They shine with an incredible contrast to the background of deep space.  Scripted comets streak by.  Asteroids with a slow rotation script come and go in a twisting and tumbling procession.  With my Page Keys, and my arrow keys, I make small but needed steering corrections to avoid collision with these rouge planetoids.  My first mate points to the alien planet below.  Dusk is approaching, as
I see the moon moving strangely fast towards the planets horizon, and night soon follow.  Over the rim of the planet, where the thin vail of the atmosphere meets the darkness of deep space, an alien ship slips into a synchronized orbit.  I look at the darkening surface of the planet as night envelopes it.  The only objects I can see now, outside the spacecraft, are objects set to full bright.  Lightning explodes from a number of thunderheads.  There sprits reach from the top of the thunderheads, up to outer space itself.  A good ship, with lots of features and scripts.  A planetary transport vessel.  A crew of two.  Sitting at the helm, safe from the chaos and harshness of deep space.

 

Ahh yes!!  What a perfect place to be!!

Ok!  How about you good people!  Post a short story here, that pertains to Second life.  Have fun with it!

Peace!

[Kylie Jaxxon]

IDK, Hippie...I've heard in the very near future, you can pay to have your ashes sent up in space.  Now that would be quite a way to spend eternity :matte-motes-sunglasses-3:

Great story!!

[Hippie Bowman]

---

Kylie Jaxxon wrote:

IDK, Hippie...I've heard in the very near future, you can pay to have your ashes sent up in space.  Now that would be quite a way to spend eternity :matte-motes-sunglasses-3:

Great story!!

---

Oh Kylie!  Thank you!  Where do I sign up!  Not that I want to go now!  HEHEHE!

 

Peace!

 

[Randall Ahren]

Try as he might, Randall doesn’t remember RL. He was a baby when his family left for the alternate universe and a young adult by the time they arrived. He learned to walk, speak, and read in a warpship. He wanted to learn about the world they’d left behind, but his parents were not helpful. “Oh man, such a terrible world,” groaned his mother. “So much death. Rand, that planet was screwed. Filled to the brim with diseases, guns, rapists… hippies everywhere, and terrible weather.” No, she’d rather not talk about it; even thinking about it was unbearable…

[wiked Anton]

Apart for a grammatical anomaly, that was a neat story. But as far as making it into space, I really don't think our species will make it that far, living in space I mean, as I am sure we will destroy ourselves first unfortunately. We are just to greedy and..........Oho shall I put it...Me me me.

[Randall Ahren]

---

wiked Anton wrote:

Apart for a grammatical anomaly, that was a neat story. But as far as making it into space, I really don't think our species will make it that far, living in space I mean, as I am sure we will destroy ourselves first unfortunately. We are just to greedy and..........Oho shall I put it...Me me me.

---

Greed is good. It is the basis for capitalism and evolution. You have heard of the book entitled The Selfish Gene? A couple of rules to remember for space travelers and planetary catastrophes:

#1: If the Earth loses it's atmosphere, don't waste your breath screaming.

#2: If a giant asteroid is heading for Earth, Duck and cover won't help.

[Hippie Bowman]

---

Randall Ahren wrote:

 

Try as he might, Randall doesn’t remember RL. He was a baby when his family left for the alternate universe and a young adult by the time they arrived. He learned to walk, speak, and read in a warpship. He wanted to learn about the world they’d left behind, but his parents were not helpful. “Oh man, such a terrible world,” groaned his mother. “So much death. Rand, that planet was screwed. Filled to the brim with diseases, guns, rapists… hippies everywhere, and terrible weather.” No, she’d rather not talk about it; even thinking about it was unbearable…

---

Sounds like the start of a good book Randall!

 

Peace!

[Hippie Bowman]

---

wiked Anton wrote:

Apart for a grammatical anomaly, that was a neat story. But as far as making it into space, I really don't think our species will make it that far, living in space I mean, as I am sure we will destroy ourselves first unfortunately. We are just to greedy and..........Oho shall I put it...Me me me.

---

Glad you liked!  I must admit, I was never good at grammar. 

I love the technical side of space and science.  Always have loved it, even as a kid.  The book that really got me started my passion for Sci Fi is the book. "Space Cat Meets Mars" by I believe Rutherford Todd.  Then of course Lost in space and the old Star Trek, and I was hooked for life. 

 

I guess I am an optimistic person, and hope that we would not destroy ourselves. 

 

Peace!

[Randall Ahren]

I adapted it from a snippet I read online. The actual protagonist is a woman named Sonya. And her mother has nothing against hippies. That was slipped in to see if you were paying attention. Sonya's mother actually dislikes hicks.

[Madelaine McMasters]

Hippie, I'm going to cheat and repeat a story I posted in the old GD forum a year ago. It lasted only a few days before being AR'd. We'll see if it lasts longer this time around. This also has some bearing on Kylie's thread "Am I getting old?" You may remember it, it's called ...

93

I turned 40 this Summer.

It wasn’t something I’d planned to do, like turn 93. It just happened. I don’t think much about getting old. Like arguing in the forum, it’s a waste of precious time. But lately I’ve chatted with some lovely people who’ve said to me, “I’m just an old so-and-so”.

In the winter of 1998, as I was approaching my seventh wedding anniversary, I got the itch to join a chat group populated by lovers of lingerie. This was to be my first foray into chat about sensual things. I was curious about topics I learned were best not discussed in my own bedroom.

I lurked at first, using the presumptuous, automatically supplied name “Guest”. This did not last long, I wanted anything witty I might say to accrue to my own name and reputation. Madelaine was born.

This room, like any other... like the forum, had its regular characters. I quickly learned the map of this little world, who’s who, who’s with whom... and who’s alone. In one corner was a wise owl, a quiet gentleman named Grey. Every time he spoke, it was clear he was a gentleman, and alive... and alone.

Now and then he’d drop a reference to something familiar to me, something that reminded me of my Father. I dropped references from my Father’s life and drifted closer.

There were stories to be told, and I wanted to hear them. I was alone too.

This room had something new called “Private Chat”. It took all of a minute after my first appearance as “Guest” for a little tab to blink at the bottom of the window, indicating someone had already found me attractive. I did not respond. But, as Madelaine, I felt compelled to at least say hello and, after learning what “ASL?” meant, to graciously decline invitations.

One day that little tab flashed “Grey”. I clicked it. There was this message:

“Hello Dear Madelaine, how are you?”.

I was thrilled.

“I’m fine, ty! You?”

So began a friendship that, for the next few months, would see us exchange the stories of our lives. I hadn’t yet had much of a life, so I borrowed heavily from Dad’s. Grey remembered the Blitzkrieg. Dad endured Pearl Harbor. Grey jumped into the four-poster hotel bed with his new bride on their honeymoon night, collapsing it on top of them and requiring the staff to set them free. Dad watched his uniform and best undies turn to soup in a windmill powered washing machine in which he’d placed them just before a typhoon ravaged Guam.

I learned that Grey was a Dom and had outlived three wives. One of them had been abused by a previous husband and never fully recovered. He loved her gently and kept her safe for the few short years until she passed away. Dad sent money every year to the girlfriend he’d left behind in Hawaii in 1947, and who later sent him letters describing the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband.

But it was not all Dad and Grey. I had my story of a date with my ex when, late one chilly spring night, I coaxed him into removing my panties on a bluff in a public park overlooking Lake Michigan. We didn’t see the leafless tree in front of us, with its branches reaching out eagerly to accept the gift he gleefully tossed. When the police officer turned into the parking lot with his searchlight (once used to spot German bombers, I’m sure) my panties waved like a surrender flag.

“Yes officer, we’re enjoying the view as much as you are.”

And so it went, exchanging stories with a lovely, lively gentleman who wore a tweed jacket, cardigan and bow-tie for text chat. He was always gracious, and oh so curious. We discussed our careers, our marriages, our sexualities and our places in the world. He had sage advice when I needed it and his gentle flirtation was the perfect thing to brighten a girl's day. Somewhere along the way, he declared me Domme. I chalked it up to the late hour and the glass of wine he’d been nursing all evening, like Jacob Bronowski in BBC’s “Ascent of Man”.

That rainy spring day when he did not arrive at his usual hour, I occupied myself with the others discussing the day’s pressing matters. Are silk stockings more slippery than nylons? How many body piercings are enough? Which is better, cricket or baseball?

The next day, we discussed other weighty issues and wondered if Grey had eloped with a hottie.

On the third day came the news... Grey had died peacefully in his sleep, at the age of 93.

So, if you think you’re just an “old so-and-so”, I ask you to reconsider. If a 93 year old gentleman can hold the attention of a 28 year old women, I think there’s hope for all of you...and for me, who plans to someday be...

93.

 

 

[Madelaine McMasters]

---

Kylie Jaxxon wrote:

IDK, Hippie...I've heard in the very near future, you can pay to have your ashes sent up in space.  Now that would be quite a way to spend eternity :matte-motes-sunglasses-3:

Great story!!

---

Kylie, Dad's last letter to me contained instructions to spread his ashes. It's been three years since his passing and I'm just barely getting started. Shortly after his death and with the help of a lovely fella in a local club (who had the necessary ATF license), I launched a bit of Dad up over 8300 ft in a model rocket, where he was poofed out by the parachute ejection charge.

When Mom dies (she's taking her time, she is) I will mix some of her ashes with his and pour them into a weather balloon, which I'll then fill with helium and release. It will rise to more than 100,000ft before bursting, giving them a few of the curvature of Earth not unlike that in the photo in Hippie's OP story. They will then forever drift around the globe together, to be inhaled by countless generations to come.

That's an eternal vacation in near-space for only $100!

 

[Amethyst Jetaime]

Hippie you may very well get to space in your lifetime.  Richard Branson just opened a  space port this week for Virgin Galactic in New Mexico.  He says they will be launching the first ship next year!  You can even buy a ticket now!  They have sold 430 so far.  You may not be able to afford one right now, but like everything else the price will come down as the technology improves.

Here's a RL very short story with a happy ending:

Never say never.  I remember reading Snow Crash as a teen and thinking how great it would be to be able to be in a virtual world.  I thought it was just a dream that may become reality in the far far future.  I never expected to actually experience one.  Now look at me.  Not only am I in one every day, I work in one. 

[Hippie Bowman]

---

Madelaine McMasters wrote:

Hippie, I'm going to cheat and repeat a story I posted in the old GD forum a year ago. It lasted only a few days before being AR'd. We'll see if it lasts longer this time around. This also has some bearing on Kylie's thread "Am I getting old?" You may remember it, it's called ...

93

I turned 40 this Summer.

It wasn’t something I’d planned to do, like turn 93. It just happened. I don’t think much about getting old. Like arguing in the forum, it’s a waste of precious time. But lately I’ve chatted with some lovely people who’ve said to me, “I’m just an old so-and-so”.

In the winter of 1998, as I was approaching my seventh wedding anniversary, I got the itch to join a chat group populated by lovers of lingerie. This was to be my first foray into chat about sensual things. I was curious about topics I learned were best not discussed in my own bedroom.

I lurked at first, using the presumptuous, automatically supplied name “Guest”. This did not last long, I wanted anything witty I might say to accrue to my own name and reputation. Madelaine was born.

This room, like any other... like the forum, had its regular characters. I quickly learned the map of this little world, who’s who, who’s with whom... and who’s alone. In one corner was a wise owl, a quiet gentleman named Grey. Every time he spoke, it was clear he was a gentleman, and alive... and alone.

Now and then he’d drop a reference to something familiar to me, something that reminded me of my Father. I dropped references from my Father’s life and drifted closer.

There were stories to be told, and I wanted to hear them. I was alone too.

This room had something new called “Private Chat”. It took all of a minute after my first appearance as “Guest” for a little tab to blink at the bottom of the window, indicating someone had already found me attractive. I did not respond. But, as Madelaine, I felt compelled to at least say hello and, after learning what “ASL?” meant, to graciously decline invitations.

One day that little tab flashed “Grey”. I clicked it. There was this message:

“Hello Dear Madelaine, how are you?”.

I was thrilled.

“I’m fine, ty! You?”

So began a friendship that, for the next few months, would see us exchange the stories of our lives. I hadn’t yet had much of a life, so I borrowed heavily from Dad’s. Grey remembered the Blitzkrieg. Dad endured Pearl Harbor. Grey jumped into the four-poster hotel bed with his new bride on their honeymoon night, collapsing it on top of them and requiring the staff to set them free. Dad watched his uniform and best undies turn to soup in a windmill powered washing machine in which he’d placed them just before a typhoon ravaged Guam.

I learned that Grey was a Dom and had outlived three wives. One of them had been abused by a previous husband and never fully recovered. He loved her gently and kept her safe for the few short years until she passed away. Dad sent money every year to the girlfriend he’d left behind in Hawaii in 1947, and who later sent him letters describing the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband.

But it was not all Dad and Grey. I had my story of a date with my ex when, late one chilly spring night, I coaxed him into removing my panties on a bluff in a public park overlooking Lake Michigan. We didn’t see the leafless tree in front of us, with its branches reaching out eagerly to accept the gift he gleefully tossed. When the police officer turned into the parking lot with his searchlight (once used to spot German bombers, I’m sure) my panties waved like a surrender flag.

“Yes officer, we’re enjoying the view as much as you are.”

And so it went, exchanging stories with a lovely, lively gentleman who wore a tweed jacket, cardigan and bow-tie for text chat. He was always gracious, and oh so curious. We discussed our careers, our marriages, our sexualities and our places in the world. He had sage advice when I needed it and his gentle flirtation was the perfect thing to brighten a girl's day. Somewhere along the way, he declared me Domme. I chalked it up to the late hour and the glass of wine he’d been nursing all evening, like Jacob Bronowski in BBC’s “Ascent of Man”.

That rainy spring day when he did not arrive at his usual hour, I occupied myself with the others discussing the day’s pressing matters. Are silk stockings more slippery than nylons? How many body piercings are enough? Which is better, cricket or baseball?

The next day, we discussed other weighty issues and wondered if Grey had eloped with a hottie.

On the third day came the news... Grey had died peacefully in his sleep, at the age of 93.

So, if you think you’re just an “old so-and-so”, I ask you to reconsider. If a 93 year old gentleman can hold the attention of a 28 year old women, I think there’s hope for all of you...and for me, who plans to someday be...

93.

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

Oh Maddy!  I enjoyed that read!  Far out!

 

Peace!

[Kylie Jaxxon]

Maddie, you are a wonderful daughter....and a great writer!  I enjoyed reading "93"

You have a natural talent

[Madelaine McMasters]

---

Hippie Bowman wrote:

A crew of two. Sitting at the helm, safe from the chaos and harshness of deep space.

Ahh yes!!  What a perfect place to be!!

 

---

Hippie, I think you're right. There is something compelling about braving dangers with a first mate, whether in space...

...or a nightclub.

;-)

[Hippie Bowman]

---

Madelaine McMasters wrote:

---

Hippie Bowman wrote:

A crew of two. Sitting at the helm, safe from the chaos and harshness of deep space.

Ahh yes!!  What a perfect place to be!!

 

---

Hippie, I think you're right. There is something compelling about braving dangers with a first mate, whether in space...

...or a nightclub.

;-)

---

You got that right Maddy!

 

Peace!

[Hippie Bowman]

---

Amethyst Jetaime wrote:

Hippie you may very well get to space in your lifetime.  Richard Branson just opened a  space port this week for Virgin Galactic in New Mexico.  He says they will be launching the first ship next year!  You can even buy a ticket now!  They have sold 430 so far.  You may not be able to afford one right now, but like everything else the price will come down as the technology improves.

Here's a RL very short story with a happy ending:

Never say never.  I remember reading Snow Crash as a teen and thinking how great it would be to be able to be in a virtual world.  I thought it was just a dream that may become reality in the far far future.  I never expected to actually experience one.  Now look at me.  Not only am I in one every day, I work in one. 

---

Oh I hope so Amethyst!  That would be a lifetime dream come true for me.  I am also glad that your dream came true!

 

Peace!

[Melita Magic]

Some think New Mexico already travels the galaxy - or at least, the galaxy travels there.  

Hope you get your space mojo going soon Hippie.

[Hippie Bowman]

---

Melita Magic wrote:

Some think New Mexico already travels the galaxy - or at least, the galaxy travels there.  

Hope you get your space mojo going soon Hippie.

---

LOL Melita!  So New Mexico is out of this world huh?  I hope so too Melita.  Looking for my Mojo!

 

Peace!

[Hippie Bowman]

Any more writers out there?  Your post is welcome!

 

Peace!

[Hippie Bowman]

Looks like it lasted this time Maddy!  Woot!

 

Peace!

[UncommonTruth]

Thank you for pulling this up to the front and giving me the chance to read it Hippie :matte-motes-smile: I hope when you make it to space it's a peaceful as it sounds like it should be.

Maddy, you made me cry!

[Hippie Bowman]

---

UncommonTruth wrote:

Thank you for pulling this up to the front and giving me the chance to read it Hippie :matte-motes-smile: I hope when you make it to space it's a peaceful as it sounds like it should be.

Maddy, you made me cry!

---

I am glad you liked it Uncommon!  Maddy writes a good story too huh?

 

Peace!