All Of A Sudden Every Baby Looked Chinese And Had Higher IQs, But Why - Fictionall Story

By Lance Winslow

The year was 2021, and something very strange was happening in the United States, every single child born looked as if they were Chinese. No one could figure what was going on, scientists were stumped, and parents were bewildered, although they loved their children just the same. What could possibly be happening? Interestingly enough, the science of DNA, mapping all the proteins, and all of the switches, along with supercomputers helping biotech scientists discover how the enzymes went about flipping those switches had made incredible strides. Could all this be related?

It turns out it was. But that was only the half of it. It turns out that the Chinese decided that now that they have the largest economy, they thought that they should be running the world, rather than the United States. Since they were making most of the products, including most of the food products, they carefully inserted nano-bots and slivers of DNA to affect the germ line of pregnant mothers. Vitamin supplement companies that were created for pregnant mothers to help with the development of their fetus had been spiked with these biotech wonders from the Chinese.

By 2019, most all of the vitamin supplements around the world were produced in China. It didn't take long for the Chinese to figure out that they could easily ensure that their gene set survived over all others. Even though the Hispanics in the United States, and the middle Easterners who had settled in the former European Union had out produced all others, the plan of the Chinese would quickly overtake them all. As bad as all this sounds, there were some added benefits.

The Chinese gene sets came with them superior intellectual abilities. Suddenly, every baby born in the United States, or almost every baby had higher IQs. The Chinese hadn't considered that, nor had they considered the backlash from the international community, or the backlash from their own people over what they had done. Soon there were protests, riots, and a near overthrown the Communist Party in China. What they thought would give them the chance to rule the world for 1000 years, turned out to almost be their downfall.

Next year of course will be the year of the Tiger in 2022, and it looks as if the Tiger will roar, but it won't be that of the Communist Party, it will be that of the people. Because of all of this scandal globally, there have been instituted new laws, rules, and regulations of vitamin supplements, much to the pleasure of the pharmaceutical industry. Please consider all this and think on it.

John Kipling Lewis: Creating Worlds in 500 Words or Less

By Rebecca H Knight

John Kipling Lewis writes micro fiction that is not only easy to read but simultaneously creates stories in enough detail that readers find themselves surprised by their brevity. Fully formed characters, worlds, and encounters are all created in crisp and clean sentences. His work invites re-investigation and rewards observant readers.

What is your genre?

My genre is Contemporary Fantasy (or Modern Fantasy) but that term is very open to interpretation and easily misunderstood. Basically I like to take reality and bend it. It's close enough to the world around you that you'll recognize it but with something basically shifted left of center, as Susan Vega would put it.

The work is the creative outlet of so many different themes and experiences that they can defy definition. Many people come away wondering how I can write well on so many different topics. Most importantly I love to make my readers think and to bring new ideas into the reader's mind. Nothing makes me happier than hearing someone say they were dumbstruck by something I wrote.

How long have you considered yourself a writer?

I would say I've been writing for about nine years. It was only after moving to Costa Rica two years ago that I seriously put effort into getting my work into the hands of the public.

What drew you to move to Costa Rica? And how did moving there inspire you to bring your work out into the light?

Costa Rica is number one on the World Happiness Index and this is reflected in everyday life. It's such a contrast to life in New York City, with its stress and its paranoia inducing crowds that when I arrived here, for the first time I felt like I could breath. I could stand still and not be bumped and pushed by the constant struggle of being one of the millions of New Yorkers.

What I found when I stopped was my family, my love, and a pile of blank books in which I had been secretly hiding all my fears. As I read through what I had collected in the time between the dark dystopia and calm of home and family I realized I had something special to say.

One lonely night, after we had settled into life here in Costa Rica, I started to assembled the pieces into a whole. I had to leave the crushing city to find it here in what the locals call Pura Vida... the Pure Life.

Unselected was the result.

What inspires and motivates you to write?

I love to make people think. The moment when the reader understands the premise or gets the point of the story, that is the thing I treasure. I like to watch people reading one of my pieces and there's sometimes a moment where they simply pause. They get a distant look in their eyes and I know I've got them thinking. Nothing compares for me to that kind of moment.

How did you get started writing?

I wrote as a way to pass the time on long subway commutes in New York City. With nothing to do, I'd sketch out a scene or play out a character's reaction to an idea I had. I would write in small Moleskines or Field Notes. It filled a long-held desire for blank books. I find them in odd places and I have to fill them up.

What's your typical writing session and environment like?

I'm constantly carrying a blank book with me and this gives me an outlet for all the thoughts that race through my brain on any given day. This is the first filter. If I can get even a few sentences down in this format, then I have the essence of what the story will be.

The next phase is to transcribe what I've written on paper to digital format and this is very much like a rewrite.

The entire piece can change as I move it to the digital world and the flow of the sentences becomes more real to me.

The final stage for me is polish and this is all about reading the work with my inner voice. I swear that my inner voice came straight out of an encyclopedia or a documentary. There's only so much I can let myself get away with when I read it with that voice and if it doesn't work there, I have to crush it and remake it until it does work. Often the work is shortened at this stage.

Then it goes off for editing.

What are your favorite writing tools?

Blank books are absolutely required and I'm partial to the ones with graph paper inside rather than ruled or sketch books. They aren't easy to find here in Costa Rica so I've been using up my current supply and thinking about how to get some shipped here. Paper doesn't last long in Costa Rica.

I've become very fond of a program called Scrivener, for the Mac. It simply feels right to me for first drafts, although it's used much more for people as a compilation tool. Having said that, my favorite writing program for the Mac is TextEdit. It's auto-correcting lets me type gibberish and have it come out as a sentence that works. This is a great relief to that inner voice of mine.

What is the publishing process like?

Now that everything is digital it's a learning curve, but one that I'm extremely comfortable with. Having done web design and development there's nothing in the process that I haven't seen before. My one weak spot is definitely in marketing. I don't have experience doing that aspect of publishing, so for me it feels mysterious or even mystical.

Have you ever been surprised by a reader's reaction to your work?

I asked my wife to describe to me what my style of writing was. She said "It's like a punch in the face." At first I was taken aback by this and a little insulted, but I quickly realized that she loved my work and what she was saying was that it had impact and was surprising. This comes from the distillation of the concepts I work with. It's extremely hard to create characters, scenes, and whole worlds in micro fiction, but when you get it right, it's like a jab in the face.

Do you have any regrets pertaining to your writing?

I wish I was better suited to longer form works. I have a novel I'm working on but it simply doesn't come to me in the same way my micro fiction does.

What plans do you have for future work?

The previously mentioned novel is about 1/3rd done. All the plotting and characters are there, waiting like a scaffolding of a skyscraper but with the birth of my baby girl my time is at a premium. I've contemplated creating a new work that is more complementary to my style and to the time I have to work with.

What advice would you give to aspiring authors?

Write. Whatever it is that makes you want to write, make sure you get it and keep moving forward.

How do you promote your work both on and off the internet?

I speak to people I meet about my work, so it sometimes passes hand to hand, but most of my sales and readers come from my internet communities. Google+ has been particularly helpful.

Where do you sell your books?

My books are available on Amazon and Smashwords

Creative Collaboration In The Digital World

By Erin Bell

"Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much" Helen Keller
We tend to think of creativity as a solitary activity. But some of the greatest pieces of art have been crafted through collaboration.
Especially today, with the emergence of the multimedia, the way a piece of art is created has changed. Development of computer technologies allows different kinds of art to be incorporated, so that the final product brings us a whole new experience.
For instance, in digital novels, writing the story, composing the music and crafting the graphics to it - all this creative work yields in products that intensify our reading experience and help us further immerse ourselves into the story.
Think about the movie soundtracks. The music in the movies enhances our emotions and the whole idea that the movie is trying to convey.
Now, just imagine reading "The Lord of the Ring" books. Wouldn't you have loved having some graphics to that book, like a map describing the journey of Frodo and Sam? Or some epic background music? All of this would make you feel like you're really a part of the story! In digital world there is nothing impossible.
And if you are an author yourself or an inspiring writer and you have an idea for a story, you will be looking for an artist to create the images for your story, and a composer to create the music for it.
Social networking and social media enable the collaboration between creative people, no matter where they are in the world. It is amazing how creative minds from all over the world are brought together to work on a mutual creative project.
Creative communities are not a novelty. However, with the transferring of this concept to the digital world and with the emergence of the special online tools and features, the physical boundaries between people with creative ideas are overcome. And the art is taken to a whole new level.
Online creative communities allow people from different countries and cultures to communicate and exchange ideas, to collaborate with other artists and writers and last but not least - to reach out to the audience a lot easier and a lot faster.
The good team work is one of the keys to success. This is true also when speaking of creative collaboration.
Creative minds are powerful minds. And they are even more powerful, when they create together.

The idea of an online creative community is the basis of the project, worked out by Senserial Publishing - a contemporary digital house, which produces e-books as series.

With the online community, they would like to help creative people with great ideas for stories:

-First: to make their project come to life

Aspect: A Tale of Terror!

By James Eugene Richardson

Prologue: Sleeping with insomnia stricken thoughts, the mind races with a million fantasies. Thoughts stream and many fathoms of unconsciousness are explored as the mind feeds on this deep sleep. The cogitation slows and stops within a stratus. It dissipates to reveal an image of a mortal character in time. It has no origin and no termination. It serves only one purpose.

It was a rather chilly evening with a gentle breeze blowing from the East. A scarcity of traffic upon the street had diminished to a several cars per minute. The sun had been down for hours although an occasional street lamp illuminated the cobblestone walkway quite adequately. Ralph Taylor's strides were confident as he approached the center of town. He was a rather lofty gentleman with a refined appearance. His cheekbones shaped his bony face which made his nose appear brought and quite distinct. His eyes were a cool indigo and observed collectively beneath his pronounced forehead. He was in his mid 30's and his receding hairline confirmed it. Taylor was on his way to dinner with friends to a place called "The Tavern". Why he chose this particular night to walk remained obscure. Perhaps the thought of a little exercise amused him. As of late he had been experiencing spells of anxiety but chose to consistently ignore this recurring insolence.

He passed a series of twin story buildings, rounded the corner and was there. The familiar neon sign above the entrance shone a bright crimson and blinked with erratic accuracy. The doorway was recessed and awaited entrance. He proceeded inward and was promptly greeted by a stout man with a balding forehead, a man quite familiar with his job. He approached Taylor and wasted no time escorting him to his reserved table.

The dining room was adequately large. Occasional lighting was sufficient enough to illuminate a selection of randomly placed tables. The walls were covered with a layer of dark stain paneling with occasional window interspersed. An elaborate crystal chandelier pronounced itself in dead center of the ceiling which inspired occasional conversation from interested parties. Taylor was seated amongst his friends and quickly engaged in conversation. They all reminisced of past days and distant abandoned dreams. There were many faces, each with a tale to relate. Many had lived comfortably while others have suffered. This evening brought each of them much happiness.

His regular order arrived promptly at the table. Taylor quickly consumed his portion of rare steak, savoring each delicious bite. He left his plate clear of even the tiniest morsel and brushed away the food smudges that appeared around the outside of his mouth. Admitting that his stomach was comfortably full, he reached in front of him beside his plate and lifted a portioned glass of milk to his lips.

As the first swallow flowed down his throat, it hit him. It was a subtle thing at first and he thought nothing of it. Conversation continued. Taylor grew increasingly worrisome as the feeling persisted and increased in strength. Sweat began to dampen his brow. He did not wish to be bothered with an illness, especially this evening in the company of friends. Nonetheless his body temperature was ascending rapidly and sweat now enveloped his forehead. Taylor had little choice but to excuse himself. He could feel his heart rate increase as he stood up and proceeded to a private area. He expected his absence to be brief. Possible subjection to food poisoning now consumed his thoughts.

A short excursion past a series of tables brought him to the main lobby. he was again approached by the man who had originally seated him. He escorted Taylor to a private employee break room. Sweat had now enveloped his entire body. He promptly entered the room and closed the hardwood door behind him, muting all conversation from the dining area. It was an odd little room with a shaggy green rug stretched across the floor. The walls were auburn with an interesting variety of graffiti scratched upon them. There were no windows with only a single ceiling lamp to light the room. A old, frayed couch claimed a corner of floorspace in front of which lay a clunky coffee table scattered with an array of drained coffee cups and dispersed magazines. This room had experienced it's share of neglect and over use.

Taylor was feeling much, much worse now but did not want to sit down. He felt as though he was burning up on the inside. Blood within his veins created a tingling sensation beneath his skin, permeating his entire body. He then noticed something he had overlooked when he first entered the room. It was a small vanity mirror attached to the farthest wall parallel to the door. He unsteadily sauntered over and stood before the reflective glass. His nightmare was now visible.

Peering at eye level, the mirror displayed a vision of horror. A now enlarged forehead extended beyond the limits of normal cranial development. Globules of skin undulated with individual motion. Dark, emotionless eyes became recessed in two corrupt pits as incisors extruded beyond the lips with pointed accuracy. Lips became crimson like in color and stretched as facial muscles expanded. The pain became excruciating. Clothes became intolerably restricted. Fabric separated like paper with unrelenting progression. Limbs became enormous in size and strength. Terror gripped emotion as the room diminished in volume. At the culmination of intolerable pain Taylor turned away from the mirror and approached the door. Suddenly the door appeared undersized and frail. He could no longer tolerate this diminutive room. His grotesque, swollen hand grasped the door knob and swung open the door with violent force.

In an instant Taylor was his normal, unaltered self. It was as though this mutation had never occurred. Skin that had been stretched considerably was now perfectly smooth. The size of his limbs had resumed normality. He stood there understandably stunned by what has just occurred. He was certain of one thing. It was an illusion, a hallucination, it had to be. He was willing to accept that.

It was a few minutes before he returned to his table where he promptly ordered a stiff drink. Taylor then realized that he felt in superior health yet remained highly puzzled. He glanced around the bustling, smoke filled room to rid his mind of these thoughts. He then noticed something which caught his eye. A man in the corner caressing his forehead as though quite uncomfortable for some reason. The man rose up and preceded out of the room. Taylor decided to ignore it. He said nothing to his friends about what happened. He wished his friends a good evening, excusing himself and departed for home.

Aydasara Ortega

"Man is a being in search of meaning." - Plato
The story of Tamara and the film Memento are of those 'happenstances' that lack meaning completely. Nah, I am just kidding! But it's true that both authors play with meaning by just having fun with words, with images... with making sense. (I won't say that they play with us, the readers/viewers, because this is not supposed to be a Reader-Response analysis nor a Psychoanalytic one, but a plain and simple Formalist analysis).
Okay, let's try again. Formally speaking both of them, Tamara and Memento, have as their main characters a male figure that is in a quest for knowledge, Marco Polo in the book "Invisible Cities" and Leonard Shelby in the film "Memento". (Wait! Before I get more into themes, plots... literary devices... and all those formal elements, did you notice how both titles have an interesting similarity? The third letter of each title is an M. Yes, look: taMara - meMento! Isn't that the letter the word Memory begins with? Just a thought.)
Both of the main characters find themselves surrounded by a multitude of signs that they are trying to decipher in order to know what they want to know. "Your gaze scans the streets as if they were written pages", says Marco Polo. But, do they really want to know? "I always thought the joy of reading a book is not knowing what happens next", Leonard says.