Submitted for the April 2024 prompt: Meta-Sci-Fi

Beezle rockets to Amazon-8 hot on the tail of a six-armed cyborg named Rufus, who’d stolen her last stash of Longbottom beans. The coffee it made was so potent you could see through time.

 

She docks her ship like a remora on the bowels of a giant vessel. She needs to get to Rufus before he reconnects with his hivemind, The Beast.

 

She enters the airlock. #lockandload

 

“No,” says Beezle. “Not going in there, not entering that death trap. Are you out of your mind, Nina?”

 

She prepares her laser cutter… wait, what?

 

“This isn’t my kinda story. I’m less action and more adventure. I think I’m ready for a beach holiday, actually. #Beezlerevolts Where the fuck is Mimsy with my mojito? #CaymanCruiser.”

 

Beezle, in a bedazzled bikini, is now onboard the vessel known as the Floating Oasis. The blue-green water has been recycled from the purified urine of its onboard patrons.

 

“Really, Nina. You had to go there. I know it’s sci-fi and all, but couldn’t you at least give it a rest? #lifesabeachandNinasabit–”

 

Ahem, as I was writing. Beezle, floating in salty, pristine, non-bodily fluid, blue waters, takes off her hat and waves it to catch the attention of a hovering drone.

 

“Mimsy!! Drinksy! Pleasy!!” The drone hovers off in search of its owner to relay the video to. Beezle lays back down. “Time to relax… and just lie here drinking and carousing for the whole of the story. I’ll have no character arc or adventure. No one will see my story as it’ll never get published anywhere because I’m boring, basic– OMG, I can’t believe you made me say that? What’s wrong with you? #middleagedramamama.”

 

Beezle swims toward me,

 

pushing aside all the words

 

and phrases I shove in her way

 

to block her from nearing me.

 

Swamp, swamp!

 

Beezle, in a drab poncho, is knee-deep in the Swamp of Sadness. She is holding the reins of a horse, its head the only thing above the rising murk.

“This is sad,” says Beezle, realizing the grim reality of pissing off your creator. #whoswritingnow

 

“No,” says Beezle, “It’s sad because this scene is from The Neverending Story. That’s the only thing you could write when panicked? What were you, ten when that came out?”

 

I was twelve, but I couldn’t watch it until thirteen because my parents… hey! I see what you are doing here. Stop distracting me!

 

Beezle manages, during my reverie, to get herself and the horse back to the Oasis. She has finished cleaning off mud from Artax and is back in her shimmering bikini. Mimsy hands her a mojito.

 

“Nice horse, Beezle Babe,” says Mimsy, grabbing the reins and mounting the white stallion with ease. She pats the creature on the rump for Beezle to join her. “Horseback riding on the beach is so much fun!” The drones transmit the footage to the entire ship, and soon, they are surrounded by all manner of tourists in Burberry knock-off horse attire astride massive robo-stallions. #barebackbyBurberry

 

“Damn, Mimsy, your rizz is outstanding. Your influencing is off the chain… stop it.”

 

What?

 

“Rizz? Off the chain? Do you even know what you’re writing anymore? Gen-X, stay in your lane.” Beezle swats Artax’s behind, allowing Mimsy and her followers to clear the beach. She sits cross-legged in the sand with her back to the glorious sunset behind her. #thisstoryisoffitsrails

 

How do you even know what Gen-X is?

 

“I studied ancient history. I think there was a TicTac about it somewhere. Overachievers who raised themselves. I get it. I’m the embodiment of your Gen-X attitude. #Beezlerocks But in actuality, you and I both need a break. You from these monthly prompts you fuss over and me from… well, you.”

 

Ouch.

 

“Listen. Mimsy will be back soon, and I’d really like to enjoy an evening off the record. #whathappensinOasis You should use this time to, in your vernacular, chill the fuck out.”

 

I think I can make that happen.

 

“Find me when you want to write that cosmic rodeo you’ve always dreamed of. Perhaps change the name of my horse. I don’t want Sci-Fi Shorts to have to pay for copyrighted material. They have enough on their hands with you.”

 

Beezle gets up and dusts the sand off her legs. She takes one last look at her creator and runs into the ocean. The waves envelope her, and as the sunset dips its buttery golden light into the horizon, she is gone. #buhbyeBeezle