Open-World: First Reading Part 2
We need to pick our next 8 writers!
I’ve looked everywhere and could only find three stories. If you sent me stories anywhere else, please email them to judasdthomas@gmail.com. Send me a draft link and put Open World Stories in the subject line.
Read these 11 stories. We’ll be voting soon. I’ll see if I can get some more submissions.
Important note: this is an interior document. There's no need to restack or share. This isn't for the Substack community at large.
We're gathering this first round of stories to read them as members of the effort. We'll pick the 8 authors who will write the next round of stories. We have several rounds to work through, and when they're all done… we'll all publish at the same time.
Do not publish your stories. There’s lots of work yet to be done.
And remember:
Subscribe to the Open-World Franklin newsletter has created: This update post will allow you to subscribe. Also, check out our slack and the worldbuilding hub for the open-world project.
This article is NOT part of Literary Salon #3… because what we’re doing here is secret.
Remember this: Get thee to a computer or you can try viewing this from the browser on your phone (which I can’t guarantee will work). The preview links don’t work in the app.
Haly has written one for us since we were short:
https://moonlightbard.substack.com/p/7c404c68-c7e2-4d47-bcc3-d8721e3804d6
S M Garratt:
https://theoortcloud.substack.com/p/8db0817c-2060-44a1-9937-c6341eda1784
Wes Dearinger:
"Roll Call"
Noah locked his ford, bounced his keys in his hand and walked towards the Franklin VFW. The street lights from the small parking lot gave enough light to illuminate the sidewalk. The late May night was hot and humid. There was a waiting in the air that Noah felt was more than just the impending storm. His twenty years experience as Caretaker had leant him a sense of such things. He gave Old Glory a nod as the flag was whipped by the gusting wind, illuminated by the lights at the base of the pole. Noah unlocked the glass doors to the large red-brick building then pocketed his keys. The old man, 73 last September, hummed an idle tune as he entered. As he enters the pair of switches to the left flick up and the lights go on.
“Thank you.” he murmured as the door closed behind him.
Noah’s eyes went to the display cases as they did everytime that he had entered the building, going all the way back to the 2nd grade field trip. The displays were simple three shelf affairs enclosed in glass that lined three of the four walls.
“Good evenin.” he greeted with a nod, respect in tone and manner, then headed to the door on the left, still humming
Noah’s office was a simple affair. One wall held file cabinets and a wall locker while another sported a large framed map of Franklin. His desk was spartan, only having a laptop, a pair of small framed photos and an old army mug holding pens and pencils. Noah took a seat in the old battered chair behind his desk and pulled out his phone, sending a text to his wife. That done, he opened the laptop to continue work on the planning of the VFW’s 4th of July BBQ while he waited.
He didn’t know why he had felt compelled to come in. Experience told him that it would reveal itself when it was ready to do so.
And thus it was, twenty minutes later, he was mulling over meats when he heard an almost tentative rap on the glass. He looked up from his screen. As he did, the top left drawer of his old metal desk squeaked open an inch. He looked back and down at the open drawer.
“Oh really?” He murmured as he stood and stretched a moment before saying, quite firmly.
“At ease, now.”
Then he headed to the door leading to the lobby and its display cases. The lobby’s lights showed a young man in a faded blue hoodie and a backpack over one shoulder. Noah, an easy smile on his wrinkled features, opened the door.
“Evenin, What can I do for you?” The young man hadn’t looked at Noah. He stared past him at the cases. His expression was a mix of nervousness, anger and sorrow. Noah gave a mental nod of understanding. Now he knew.
“Why don’t ya come on in, young man. Might start rainin any moment.” As if summoned by his words a rumble of thunder rolled in the night sky above them. He stood aside and the young man swallowed and entered.
The young man, Noah judged fifteen or sixteen, walked the circle of the room, gazing into the displays. The shelves held an assortment of items. Personal items of the honored dead. Some were military in nature, medals being the most common, but not all. He knew at least three yo-yo’s regularly made appearances on the shelves.
“Have you come to add an item for remembrance?” he asked gently. The young man looked over at the Caretaker and nodded, eyes brightening with unshed tears. Noah nodded slowly. “I just need to know their name and rank.” he softly informed the grieving young man. The bag came off the shoulder and out came an olive green military flashlight. The young man held it almost reverently.
“Specialist Sandra Gibson.” he said in an almost whisper. “One of her… squad I guess… came to the funeral. Said she used this to bring in a helicopter to get them and their injured out. She….” tears began falling. “She got hit as it landed.”
Noah noded and laid a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder. “She died so others could live. Others like her squad and those back home like you.” The young man nodded and started to hand the flashlight over when an earthshaking rumble of thunder sounded out a moment after a bright flash of lightning and then the lights went out. The young man let out a bit off shriek of fear. Almost immediately the emergency lights came on.
“It’s ok, lightning probably just hit a transformer… oh no…” Noah had begun to tell his guest as his eyes drifted out the glass door to see darkness with no light aiming upwards at the flag.
“Gonna have to ask you hold a moment. I need to bring in the flag.”
“But Why?” the young man asked, confused by the sudden change.
“Flag code says so…” his words was cut off as the flashlight lights up.” Another yelp, this time of surprised,
“I… I didnt turn it on.” the teenager declared, voice cracking. Noah waited in silence, holding up a finger as he gazed at the flashlight. The light dims and as it does the lamps outside begin glowing and shining upward, illuminating the Colors. Noah smiles. The young man stared between the flashlight and the flagpole, a look of wonder on his face.
“Let’s find that flashlight a place to rest.” Noah told the young man.
Twenty minutes later Noah entered his office and went to his desk. He pulled open the partially opened drawer, fetched out a small key which he used to unlock a file drawer and retrieved an old leather ledger. On the latest page he adds the entry Specialist Sandra Gibson, USA, Flashlight
“Welcome.” he called out the newest member of the VFW
— Thaddeus Thomas
im sorry but i couldnt get my shit together for this or even work out what to do/how to use the Slack thing. but do have fun you lot 😄
I already emailed my story to you and you replied with thanks. Haly pinged me today to let me know to let you know that I didn't see my story here. I can email you again if you need. Thanks and God bless.
-(WordiGirl/Lexi Con/Ossandra White)