I haven't been frequenting the stream as much lately and a large part of why is a lack of direction in my own life that needs fixing. I will fix this by writing daily short stories because fun! I will be posting them mainly to my wordpress and tumblr, though I'll post the occasional one here and elsewhere.

I have two so far, and here is the first:

Entry 1: Swampbot

12th of May, 1991

Dear Father,

This morning I bore witness to perhaps the strangest event of my life, though it perhaps pales in comparison to many of the tales you told me in my childhood. Thatís why I write this to you alone: I fear nobody else could believe me.

Youíll recall that I recently undertook employment at a nearby factory just a few short minutes from the flat weíre currently renting. Yes, the one with the awfully dark and ancient brickwork and skips that needed replacing when they fell apart the first time that you were so fond of telling me about. I assure you itís only until we find a suitable house, father, so please stop hammering on about it.

It takes a lot of money to do so, however, and thatís why I awoke so early, eager to get in a little overtime. It must have been just gone six, the sun barely breaking out of its slumber and unleashing only the faintest hint of its light, casting the usually vibrant green shrubbery and bright wooden gates I passed through in a monochrome to match the grey stone underfoot.

Thereís a shortcut through one of those gates, a path leading through a tunnel formed by overgrown trees that let little light in at the best of times. Perhaps thatís what I really saw; an illusion brought about by little light and the wanderings of mind fresh out of sleep. No, that wouldnít explain the wound I sustained, deep enough to leave a scar to serve as eternal proof of the encounter.

Halfway through this tunnel of nature is a swamp, or perhaps just a tiny pool. Itís gone unwatched for generations it seems, leaves from the canopy overhead creating a thick film over the water, bubbles popping up here and there like foaming weeds. Shafts of light usually adorn the pool, breaking through the branches above, but today it was nearly pitch black.

There was a rumble as I stepped before the swamp, an alien groan that at first sounded like the grinding gears of the factory beyond only heavier, grander in its design. A hill seemed to be forming in the leaves, pushing the water up and out to the sides of the pool until it nearly rose over the edge and dirtied my boots. It rose further, higher, the green film broken when the leaves, homogenized over time, simply couldnít hold its own weight any longer.

I caught a glimpse of it then, the dirty silver of steel familiar to any machine, though this was smeared by mud and stained a faint shade of green by the water. It continued its skyward push, revealing more and more of itself to me, the steel forming a broad top to the machine or creature with indents every five centimetres or so down. There were squares inlaid upon its surface that seemed to shake every few seconds as though breathing, though in hindsight perhaps it had just become loose over time.

This monstrous head was atop a large black orb on which it seemed to swivel uneasily, reminding me a little of the way grandfather shambles about on that walking stick of his. I saw two divots in this orb that contained a pulsing blue glow, though I suspect there were for in total, one on each quadrant.

Thick black wires of varying sizes, the smallest easily as big as a manís arm, hung limp from this orb and trailed down into the swamp. They became as one in the darkness, black on black making details hard to make out, though they reminded me of the notched tubes of a hoover.

The smell broke me out of my frozen posture, the dusty scent of oil like that of a robotís sarcophagus flowing through my body and shattering the stone embedded there by the alien sight. My boot scuffed the chips of stone beneath me, and - I swear this, father - it heard me.

The huge head shifted, turning slowly to reveal a thick steel tube jutting out from a square hole, a telescope with a burning blue glow lurking behind the curtain of the thick lens.

What would you have done here, father? You always seemed like such an expert in these cases, but in my ignorance and confusion I was only able to sputter out a choked hello? The blue glow became a violent crimson, no longer turned vague behind fog but now a clear and focused burst of light. It was like a drunk suddenly becoming overtaken by a violent rage.

It began to beep, slowly at first and then as rapid as a heavy rainfall, each drop of an entirely different tone, pitch, and timbre; The machine seemed almost human, struggling now to communicate itís rage with a cacophony of anger. My limbs became stone again, joints taut with concrete.

A rogue wire came into view then, pulling itself free from the water until it broke free. The end was frayed, a torn golden fibre that sparked with an erratic electricity that reached for me now. It moved like a hound jaunting after its prey, snapping out at my hand and carving it lengthwise.

Iím not sure what pushed me to the ground, the force behind the deceptively small wire or the shock of the entire ordeal, but I found myself scrambling forward, my body contradicting itself by trying to launch itself both forward and up. Everything went by in a blur as I ran for my life - I was sure now that the creature/machine had nothing but malicious intent for me - and I finally breached the shattered fence that led to the factory.

That wire gave me quite the cut. It extends down from the tip of middle finger to the very bottom of my palm, curving all the way to the edge of my hand to create a kind of sickle.
What do you think, father? I could use your expertise.

Your Son,

Junior.

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If you want to keep up with this endeavour and see the more NSFW entries I will be writing (spider porn was the dish of the day today) you can subscribe to my tumblr: http://freakinomicon.tumblr.com/