Imaginif prompts for daily writers.
If you wish to join the Writers Prompt Daily simply use the below photo (changes daily) as a prompt and post a short story, poem or paragraph to your blog. Leave a comment and your link here so that all participants can come to you and read/comment/encourage. Stories below are copyright and are Megan Bayliss' writing around the below daily picture prompt.


They groaned in the dead still of night and as the sun heated their hunger and sticking pads. Their groans were painful on the ear and a sign for all to flee from structures on the daily Steeler smörgåsbord. Jumping from steel to steel they would demolish anything that they stuck to; the steel they processed through digestion; glass, cement or human they vomited out. They tasted via the sticking pads on their heads and feet and ate through their anus. Able to survive against all weapons we knew, the steelers grew in strength and hunger as they devoured our cities, steel morsel by steel morsel.

Many had already lost their life. Some had been eaten and vomited out in a bulimic gorge. Others had been crossing the cities many bridges when the bridge gave way into the ocean below. Some, whole families, had been anally engulfed while trying to escape in their cars.

No one knew where the Steelers had come from. There was rumour of them being bred by the military in germ warfare labs. A lab accident, an escape, a devastation used against us that we only read of in horror stories. Yet other rumours had the super giants of the industrial world inadvertently creating life with the toxic mixes their plants and smelters disposed of. All that was known as fact was that the Steelers ate steel and grew in appetite with every bite. They did not eat ships at berth or at sail but ships in dry dock had all been eaten.

An unassuming chemistry student, with trendy thick green glasses, pimples and wild curly hair, emailed NASA his observation. It appeared to him that the Steelers were not consuming from steel junk yards. Why, he asked. Was their something in the chemical compound of rust that the Steelers could not tolerate? A solution may be to rust up steel to starve the Steelers out of existence.

News flashes resounded throughout the world. Every news channel, every air wave, was taken up with the declaration of the end of the steel invasion. NASA scientists had created a weapon of mass destruction against the Steelers. A think tank of the world's most brilliant minds had hypothesized that the chemical compound of salt melted the steelers and took life from their form.

Onto ships, liners, boats and junks, the people of the industrialized world moved. Combined nation's budgets pooled and sprayed our oceans over cities, countries and towns. Ocean water was dumped from above, sprayed from the shore, and pumped through fire hydrants and sprinkling systems. The world was turned to salt.

The groaning stopped. Steel structures were left intact and the Steelers were ground to rust dust. Curly haired chemistry student remoted his Plasma screen to sleep mode. He lay back in his ergonomic chair, hands grasped together behind his head, a look of consternation on his face. His cat jumped to his lap, wanting some loving. Instead of a pat, his cat flew across the room, hit the door and slid down to the tiles. In fear, the cat ran to hide from his crazy owner.

Unassuming student paced the tiles. His anger at NASA for taking the credit of his steely brilliance further fed his psychotic need to destroy what everyone took for granted. He paced and thought of another way to have his brilliance of creation and destruction recognised.

The cat. He would mutate cats to suck blood rather than lap milk. In his suburban den he would breed them up, a vampire breed, release them and hold the cure until the world was again bled to near annihilation. Only then would he send a simple email wondering if the cats were avoiding people with high blood pressure for a reason. Could it be the blood thinners they were on that perhaps the cats could not tolerate?

Unassuming student with the beautiful thick green glasses, the gorgeous curly hair and the looks of the boy next door, cracked a half smile. His left side pulled up and was swiftly followed by a belly laugh of floor rolling proportion. In joy, he kicked his socked feet repeatedly on the tiles and was mindful not to laugh so much that a little urine escaped his urethra. That would be uncool.

He was brilliant and now the world would know it.

If you wish to join the Writers Prompt Daily simply use the above photo as a prompt and post a short story, poem or paragraph to your blog. Leave a comment and the link here so that all participants can come to you and read/comment/encourage. Story above is copyright and is Megan Bayliss' writing around the above picture prompt.

4 Response to "Steelers"

Becca said...

Extremely well-written and intriguing. And creative! You showed a lot of talent in this piece and it was still interesting. Loved the ending too!

Sorry I haven't been around a few days. I tend to work in waves. A few days doing one thing, a few days doing another, etc. All writing related though lol. My entry today is a bit of a comedy that pays homage to an acquaintance of mine whose online handle is "Splinker" IDK how much sense it makes.

Megan Bayliss said...

Hi Becca, lovely to read your comments again. I have missed you. It's okay to come and go as you need to, no apologies needed. Being a mother of three kids is hard enough. Being a mother of 3 kids and being a prolific writer is even harder!!! You are amazing to get it all done.

I cannot pick whether my own writing is good. I thought this piece very creative and was proud that I tried science fiction. My husband read it and said, "It's not your best writing. All you do is describe. There's no action and the Steelers don't do anything."

So, I've had a restless few hours trying to decide whether to rewrite this or not. I accept that he didn't understand the purpose of the flash fiction purpose writing and I accept his critique in context, but, if my writing is bad I run the risk of a publisher perusing my on-line work, deciding I have no longevity of talent and therefore not publishing a submitted piece of work and commissioning me for more.

Blah, blah....I need to trust my instincts more and write for the enjoyment of it. I did enjoy writing this. I even gave it to Master 14 to read because I thought he might find it funny. His comments were less than favourable as well!

Julie G said...

Gees, student needs counseling...

Wow, I do like this piece, maybe because I can get inside the guys head.

I had to read it a couple of times before I got your plot.

It certainly has a voice to a select audience. Considering I'm not a sci fi fan.

Leave it a few weeks and then come back to it, you may find you want to re write it. That's what I do.

Megan Bayliss said...

Ummm...if you and Paul both struggled with it, it is not a good sign. He doesn't like sci fi either...but a critique is more than just not liking a particular genre. Think I'll flick it out on Twitter and see if I can get any science fiction readers/writer's feedback.

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