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markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Mark
@markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
36 followers 28 following 200 posts
I dreamed that characters of my unfinished stories begged me to finish those tales, otherwise their worlds would be destroyed.

So for them, I write.
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markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Friends have fallen. Hope dwindles. All that remains is a final push to claim their future.

#WIPSnips
He led their cheering, faster and louder with each iteration, until words and bangs were one. They were a weapon on the verge, ready to explode with the slightest nudge. One more round of cheers pushed them to their limit and Ballad turned, his weapon pointed west. “Onward!” Ballad rushed forward, the storm of stone and metal at his heels. Crystals flew by in a pink blur. He cleared the spires into a flash of sunlight.
January 27, 2026 at 3:55 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
From the opening scene of The Reclaimed.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity
Part One: Red; Chapter 1: Initialization; FILE: c41-425.bin / USER: D0C-002 / STATUS: decryption initiated The needle taped to my arm sent ice through my veins and my world into darkness. I fell asleep for the last time. Something clicked into the back of my skull. A current surged through my head and into unfamiliar joints. Then I woke up. Optics received power first, a flash of pure white that faded into electric black. Audio came online with a whispered roar of static. Energy spiked across my entire body as processes ticked through their boot cycles. Bright green text flickered in the lower left of my vision. internal optics... online Another line about external audio. Then coolant systems. Hydraulics. A cascade of updates scrolled in a blur.
January 14, 2026 at 2:52 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
We should have seen it coming. It was impossible to get him back inside during the rare PNW snowfalls.
Jax lounging in the snow Jax in the snow, preferring to be buried in it rather than come inside.
January 6, 2026 at 7:08 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
I miss a lot about PDX. Rain, trees that stay green in the winter, more good food than you’ll ever get to eat - but not the 10-ish pounds I left there due to lack of said good food.

Jax, on the other hand, *loves* the Wisconsin winter.
A German Shepherd/Husky mix ready for a walk in the snow
January 6, 2026 at 7:04 PM
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Red survived the fight, but the cost was high.

With no hope for repair or a recharge, he finds peace through memories captured in art.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity
Six inoperable charging stations later, I sat outside with my back against a wall. I was losing myself to the mural on the wall across the street. It was a beautiful scene of a coast that seemed to stretch on forever. The sand was untouched, starting white at the bottom of the wall until it gradually blended into dark tan where a foamy white line marked the beginning of an infinite blue sea. Curved outlines of birds flew into wide, fluffy clouds that blocked the sun. I could almost hear the hush of breaking waves. I stood, leaving the calm beach behind. Bin advised against it. Battery reserves were dangerously low now. Movement was not efficient. I ignored Bin’s pings and warnings. Not out of spite, I was grateful for Bin’s presence, now more than ever. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore. I’d run out of time.
January 6, 2026 at 4:07 PM
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Central Office's command was law, enforced by the soulless Reclaimers.

Until now, no one dared to fight back. But Red hadn't been given a choice.

From The Reclaimed, chapter 9: Spares

#WIPSnips #writingCommunity
Where were they? A spire exploded. I turned to the sound and stone shrapnel smashed against me, deflected by my chestplate. The impact rang through my frame. Then a long stone shard punctured my visor. The world flickered. A Reclaimer burst through the cloud of dust and slammed into me with its shoulder. I flew backward, my panels grinding against gravel. The Reclaimer pounced onto me and grabbed my left chestplate, peeling it open. My designation tag ripped free, sent flying through the air. Every circuit in my body flared with pain. The Reclaimer thrust its hand at my chest cavity with a crunch. My palm plate twisted under the machine’s fist. I held it tight and pushed hard. Neither of us budged against the other. I reached to my visor with my free hand. The stone shard scraped against my optics as I pulled it free, sending lines of static across my vision. I loosened my grip on the Reclaimer’s fist and rolled sideways, sending it to the ground. I thrust the shard into the Reclaimer’s visor and something broke on the other side. I drove the shard deeper. The Reclaimer released me and fell backwards.
December 23, 2025 at 3:00 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Even after being cast into metal and having no memory of their human lives, the RAILs still seek expression. They still have stories to tell.

And they still fight.

#WIPSnips #writingCommunity
I followed Marigold through a village of identical squat, gray buildings. I noticed differences now that I hadn’t caught while speeding through with Eight-Six. Several had been painted. Most designs were simple and geometric, stripes, overlapping squares, or angled bands of color. Others showed entire scenes of mountains, oceans, or fields of flowers. I lingered on a large mural that covered an entire wall. A RAIL unit stood alone on a hill, holding a pickaxe high above its head. Hundreds of RAILs stood surrounded it, their fists raised.
December 22, 2025 at 2:36 PM
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Nobody *wants* to have their consciousness stuffed into a robot. The company says they're all criminals - but what crime would lead to this?

#WIPSnips #writingCommunity #amQuerying
“You think Prime lied about us being criminals?” “I don’t think Prime’s orientation process can lie.” “This is where you offer your theory,” I guessed. Eight-Six laughed. “You don’t put all of your antisocial-types in the same room if you want them to work together and follow your rules. So I don’t think that’s what we are.” That was a relief, at least. “The powers-that-be still needed a labor force,” he went on. “Nobody volunteers for this, and the bar to force someone was too high. So what do you do?” “Lower the bar,” I realized. Absurd to say out loud, but it wasn’t like anything had been normal since I woke up. “Exactly!” Eight-Six let the idea simmer. “It could have been anything. Maybe I had an accident, maybe you had too much debt, maybe someone clicked the wrong box on a form. But you know what? Maybe it’s better this way. It’s working out pretty well for me.”
December 19, 2025 at 2:10 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Red learns why being a Shiny is special, and what survival costs in this new life.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #amQuerying
I leaned into Cyan. “What’s going on?” “Recalls and reclamations,” Midnight answered instead. “Back in the day, if something took one of us out of service, Doc could at least use us for parts. Hell, I’ve got six RAILs keeping me from falling apart.” That caught me by surprise. I looked around the table for a reaction, but instead they each held up fingers: two for Cyan, three for Ballad. Fable paused, counting invisible numbers in the air, then shrugged. Then there was me. The replacement with no borrowed parts. The shiny. “Now?” Midnight continued, “Central puts a reclamation order out as soon as they see your signal goes dark. Request a repair job that needs more than a few joints or a squirt of oil and they put a recall on you.”
December 18, 2025 at 2:54 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
They've reached their destination, only to find they weren't the first.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #AmQuerying
The tower rose tall, sleek, and featureless, broken only by a rectangular opening that jutted from its base. Sunflower followed the smooth face upward. It bent forward ever so slightly, looming over them, demanding obedience. The front opening had been damaged. A heavy door hung crooked on its track, bent and pocked with black scorch marks. “Bombs?” Cyan asked, tracing the burns with his fingers. “Sunflower, was this from before?” Marigold asked. She moved in for a closer look, shaking her head. “We didn’t get this far. Must be recent.” “No,” Cyan pointed at the ground, the entryway blanketed by gravel. “It would’ve taken a long time for the wind to do this.” They exchanged uneasy looks.
December 15, 2025 at 2:34 PM
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Sunflower kept to her forge, hiding from the connections that ended with pain.

And yet budding hope pulls her forward, past her memories and trauma, toward a future worth protecting.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #AmQuerying
Sunflower soaked in the solitude, leaning into it until she could bear her own weight again. When she looked up, she saw someone standing in the alley, with yellow-orange plates much like her own. Marigold greeted her with two raised fingers and a warm smile. Sunflower’s knees threatened to buckle. The sprout wiggled and stretched, dragging her into the alley. She passed the mural without a glance, not needing the painting to remember the scene. She only needed to close her eyes. Then the crowd roared to life. Her friend rallied them before they marched through the crystal spires. Cheers, shouts, cries, screams. Metal smashing, twisting, groaning. Soulless machines demanding their obedience, desperation compelling them onward.
December 12, 2025 at 7:25 PM
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Who we want to be is not always who we are.

#WIPSnips #AmQuerying
Then she saw what had been dodging her since she first approached the table. It had seemed to be a simple thing at first, hovering at the edge of her thoughts, until it finally came crashing down. Everything she saw in herself, all that she aspired to be, peeled away, and she saw herself in full. Fable would do the same. To protect ND-12, her friends, her entire family, she would turn the machine against every station. She’d killed for them, been mutilated in their defense, her life nearly drained from her in exile so she could bring them an army of their own.
December 11, 2025 at 6:49 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
My Electromatic is unofficially my favorite child. I’ve been wanting to go up to the Broadkaster tier or a while!
2 electric guitars and an electric bass mounted to a wall
December 4, 2025 at 9:05 PM
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Central Office's occupation has started. For the workers of station ND-12, life as they know it has changed forever.

But how long until they realize that?

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
They traded goodbyes and drifted from the plaza. Fable stayed behind, watching her friends disappear into the streets. She already missed the easy laughter and shared stories. Jokes about bomb makers already felt like they belonged to someone else, to another time. Fable feared what came next, and the part she’d play in it. How long before she’d ask them to risk everything?
December 1, 2025 at 8:53 PM
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Fable - long-hauler, storyteller, and heart of the Break Room crew - wakes from standby at the edge of another deserted station.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity
Chapter 11: Fable; I wish we’d found something. I hope he tells them what we saw. Fable came out of standby following a gentle ping from her Bin. She took a moment to orient herself. Not much had changed since she went into standby. The flat, rocky plane stretched in every direction. Eight-Six still pressed forward at full speed with the last load of crates on his back. The sun was behind her now, so they must have been moving most of the day. Looking forward, Fable saw why Bin had woken her up. Station GD-2 grew on the horizon.
November 21, 2025 at 4:02 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
I don't have the creative energy to dive into revisions yet. Instead I'm focusing on other levers I can adjust.

I used the manuscript to generate a word cloud. This is an easy way for me to find words I'm overusing so I know where to start throwing a thesaurus.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky
A world cloud with the following word, listed from largest to smallest: marigold cyan fable back doc sunflower one dobbes ballad just hand asked slate time know away reclaimer something azure bin turned first door behind midnight red reclaimers looked head see left need central voice long even forward right metal around saw crowd every work rail knew black place hands shoulder
November 20, 2025 at 3:34 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Their oppressors have a weakness, locked in the memories of a fallen friend. Now they're forced to smuggle him - corpse and frozen mind - to keep hope alive.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
Sunflower hunched over a tall black anvil, working orange steel into a slender crescent. The blacksmith was consumed by her task, not looking up to greet the newcomer. She hammered the glowing pick, removing an imperfection only she would ever notice, before setting it into a tall bucket with a frenzied sizzle that sent a pillar of steam curling toward the ceiling. Sunflower peered through the cloud, her eyes pausing on the crates before meeting Fable’s. “Three?” she asked, her voice warm to those who knew her. “Special order from Assembly.”
November 20, 2025 at 3:19 PM
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The memory's spark has caught. Uprising flares into revolution.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
Fable was lifted to her feet and spun around, face-to-face with a matte black with the cold, soulless Reclaimer. It gripped her collar once more, pulling back its free arm. Steel fingers locked around my collar like a vice. “Do not resist.” Red’s Bin echoed in her ear: Resist. Fable seized the Reclaimer’s wrist, finding the thin rod connecting to it, and twisted. The metal in her hand screamed and the machine’s grip loosened. She clenched her other hand and hammered the wrist. Again. On the third blow the joint broke apart with a sharp crack. The machine reeled back, releasing her.
November 19, 2025 at 3:38 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

The Reclaimed

Chapter 1: init;
optical systems... online A hard gray landscape of crags and stone blinked into existence. Jagged rocks jutted out of the earth to form a wall of carnivorous teeth against the setting sun. A gust of wind brought a flurry of gray dust to my eyes. A signal told me that this stung, and the signal said I should recoil to protect myself. motor systems... online
September 22, 2025 at 11:09 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
“I don’t know,” she told Slate. Marigold felt her shoulders sag. She shot up, forcing herself to hold her composure. A grin snuck into Slate’s brow. “What did you call him?” he asked, his edge softening. “Crimson? Cardinal?” Cardinal. Damn, that would’ve been a good one. “Red,” she answered. “Just Red.” “We’re very interested in finding Red, Marigold. Him, and his partner. They actions put us all at risk. We’d appreciate any help you can give us.”
September 18, 2025 at 11:59 AM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Rest stop in Sterling, CO
“I am grout” written in the grout between wall tiles
August 20, 2025 at 6:38 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
Moving is a lot, but Jax seems to be having a good time.
Jax at the Colorado River, part one Jax st the Colorado River, part 2 Jax doing his best Doge impression
August 20, 2025 at 2:54 AM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
When the worse person you know makes a point.

#WIPSnips
“My point is that is the point. That’s why they stuck us in these things! We’re supposed to break and get fixed and be sent back to work. It’s cheaper or safer or makes it someone else’s problem. I don’t know. I don’t even care anymore. All I do know is we’re dying, all of us. It’s a slow death and everyone’s fine just watching it happen.”
August 13, 2025 at 10:21 PM
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An unlikely alliance with the person everyone told you stay away from.

What could go wrong?

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t planned this far ahead. I only knew that I needed to do something, and so far Dobbes was the only person doing anything. Sitting across from him now, I wasn’t so sure. I think he picked up on my uncertainty. “I’m not going to apologize for that,” he said, pointing at my cracked visor. Callie jabbed him with her elbow. She raised her wiper-brows as if to say Be good. “I won’t apologize for keeping you alive,” I clipped back. Dobbes shifted. He started to say something, but decided against it when he noticed Callie looking at him.
July 27, 2025 at 7:15 PM
markmakesmarkmarks.bsky.social
The community used to break down their fallen, recycling parts that keep them alive. But now, the brutal Reclaimers take the terminated RAILs back to Central Office and salvaging the dead is punishable by death.

Decay is inevitable.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity
Chapter 7: Reclamation; A swarm of RAILs crowded around Doc’s house. They clambered over each other as the doorway and pulled themselves up to peek through the tiny windows, anything to catch a glimpse inside. Their whispered rumors filled the street with a speculative hum that threatened to burst. “Move aside!” Marigold yelled, gripping my wrist. “Let me through!”
July 24, 2025 at 6:21 PM