Short Stories

[Azerath]

I attempted to make a really quick story, to see if I could make the reader want to know more, and heres what I got:

The little boy, named Tom, was sleeping silently in his mother's lap on the plane. The plane was a small 5 person plane, including the pilot. It was old, yet tough, with a chrome color, and 2 yellow stripes down the side. It wasn't much, but it meant everything to Tom. Tom loved planes so much for all of his life, his wish finally came true to ride in one. Once he awoke, he was in a overjoyed mood. He looked out the window, and looked at all the farm land below.
Their trip was to start in Australia, fly to Japan, and them make a straight trip through Russia, then to land in Paris, for the most wonderful vacation of their life time.
The trip had very little turbulence, and a lot of food was packed. Tom was so hyped for all of this happening. What were the odds of this ever happening to him?
Tom's family was very poor, and could never afford a trip like this. Even for his little age, he knew something wasn't right. He was just too excited to think about it. He walked around the plane, looking through the windows, and crawling around the floors. His mother was so happy that he was enjoying his time, and she was happy to finally have a wonderful vacation.
They flew on, over Russia for about an hour. It was about 2:10 in the morning, while Tom and his mother slept. Tom was a light sleeper, and awoke at the sound of extra engines. He got up, and looked out the window, but saw nothing. He ran around, and found a small flashlight, and pointed it out the window. When he turned it on, he almost screamed. There was a small plane, heading right toward them. He shook him mother, and she looked to see the horror. She ducked under the seat with Tom in her hands, while the giant impact of the plane struck the side of theirs. The huge explosion knocked off the tail end of the old chrome machine, and the side was torn. The plane started to spin, and dropped its nose to the ground below. The hole in the of the plane sucked out whatever it could, while Tom's mother reached under her seat for parachutes. The side slowly started to rip open more, and when she finally found it, she put it on Tom. The side blew open, and the plane spun. Tom flew out of the plane like a dust bunny in a vent. His mother was ripped from her seat, and flew out the plane's side. Tom was spinning, and falling wildly while his mother falling above him. She reached for Tom, all that she could...

But did she make it?

Post your short storied. They don't have to be like mine. Any short stories you have will work, besides researcho stories.

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[Lalam24]

I didn't write it, my friend did.  And if you've seen the CaptMeat story topic, then you've seen it

   
   “The dust is picken up agen,” the Captain sighed, looking out the small porthole looking out onto the universe.
   His first mate – a human by the name of Valdez shrugged.  He had never believed in navigation through sonic radar and scanners.  Renowned as one of the best navigators in the universe, not only for his intense love for the unknown, but for his expertise with primal exploration equipment; manual star computers and ionic engines, truly a man of the past.
   But it wasn’t as if the Captain was exactly with the times, either.  Even though better and better had come up, he had stuck with his handy meat cannon through the centuries of exploration he had lived through.  His ship hadn’t seen a new part in over a decade, either, relying on Mk. III warp generators, invented before the fall of the second Galactic Monarchy of the Milky Way.  The humans had always been one of Captain Meat’s favorite races, though – they moved so quickly.  His people’s lives spanned over centuries – some his ancestors had lived for six and seven centuries, but tall tales amongst his people were to be taken as picket fence gossip for the humans.
   “Vanguard, we don’t need the star computers.”  Valdez spoke briefly – he was never a man of many words, truly a man of action – “I can navigate just fine by star maps.”
   Meat shot his first mate a dangerous glance.  “I know yeh can, Valtez.  But it hasn’ come down to tha, yeht.  Wha’s the fastest weh aut o’ the storm?”
   The human shrugged, laboring over maps laid across his podium.  “Ah.  Here.  The nebula ends here.”  He lay his finger across a coordinate, waving the captain over.  The captain nodded.
   “Set course.”
   The bridge lay silent for a moment, crew members tapping at terminals, some just staring out the large view screen holo spread across the front wall of the ship’s bridge.
   The holo flickered, a prompt appearing off the screen.  As the ship shook, vibrations running up the frame.  “Ionic engines offline.” The computer spoke, the hum emanating through the ship dissipating.  The ship’s comm officer spoke over the hum of the engines, an Adelen – a species whose language was so complex, none but the Adelens themselves could speak it.  They called him John.  “Cap’n, we’re being hailed on a secure frequency.”
   Meat squinted his one eye, furrowing his eyebrow.  “Accept,” even though it sounded more like, ‘Assep.’
   A man appeared on screen – a crew cut, and from the bit of uniform visible, he was immaculately dressed.  The uniform was obviously very elaborate.  “Ah, Captain!  You look stranded.”
   Meat raised his eyebrow.  “Shepard.”
   “I heard you were dead, Meat!”
   “Nahh,” he shook his head, “Not yeht, at leaz.”
   “Well,” Shepard smiled pleasantly, “We can always fix that.  According to galactic law…”
   Meat interrupted him, “Line 062933, ahticle 322, save et.”
   “Hm.  Well, at any rate, as an officer of the Alliance, I feel it within my duties to apprehend these… pirate scum, polluting the glorious Alliance space. Any last words, Meat?”
   “Mmh.”  Meat grunted, rather indifferently.  He turned to John, “Disconnect.”
   Shepard’s face disappeared from the screen, leaving Meat to turn to his pilot.  “Spool tha warp drives up, flahboh.”
   “It’ll take at least five minutes, Cap’n.  Do we have that time?”
   “I’ll mek it.  Valdez, with me.  We’ll beh greetin’ our guests.”  Meat smiled roughly, straightening his simple uniform.
   The walk to the airlock was rather short, as the McCarty was a small ship – small, but durable, and definitely feisty.
   The airlock sealed, a red light appearing next to the door.  Valdez drew his sword – a cutlass about the length of his leg.  Meat only readied the meat cannon; he couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t part of him.
   The red light turned green, and the door swung open.  Meat fired off a round without hesitation, acid meat ripping into the men standing in front.  He crouched, reloading as more men poured out of the airlock, stepping over their fallen brethren.  Valdez stepped forward, slicing and dicing through rows of men as they poured out, holding blades with one before disconnecting and jabbing forward, reaching for the small handgun holstered to his leg.  Men continued to pour into the small arrival room, Meat continuing to squeeze off shotgun-reminiscent rounds of acid meat into oncoming men, Valdez spinning on his heels after breaking the held blades, sheathing his own blade in his opponent’s chest, twisting his arm back and roostering the hammer before a loud crack echoed through the hall, a bullet exploding through the Alliance soldier behind him’s head, landing in another soldier’s shoulder.
   The airlock began to close, the bulkhead closing in on the tunnel connecting the two ships.  The McCarty didn’t have its own airlock chambers, the Alliance ship had extended a chamber, sealing onto the side of the ship.  By now, the Alliance ship’s airlock would be sealing as well, damning any men inside the chamber to an eternal flight in the abyss.
   Lights flashing, Valdez impaled a final soldier on his blade, laying his arm across his back, almost holding him in a hug, before twisting his blade out and watching him fall to the ground, his mouth open in shock.
   “That was it?” Valdez said coolly, jerking the blade to splash the splatters of blood onto the floor.
   “Warp drives spooled.  Jumping in three.”
   The alarms sounded briefly before the ship entered warp. 
   Meat shrugged, wiping idly at his meat cannon.  A few moments of silence followed.  “How’s ‘bout a roun in my quarters?”
   “Rum?”
   “O’course.”
   The first mate sheathed his cutlass, nodding approvingly.  “Any time.”