The Rum Diary by Lesley Whyte

DAY FOUR
Things are getting tense. We're running out of food, but there's still plenty of rum. Jimmy's decided we need to ration it, he says we won't survive if we keep drinking but don't eat enough. We'll be sick and then we'll be stupid and then we'll die. I think we should eat Jimmy first.


DAY EIGHT
Amelia and I had sex. Running out of rum, too.


DAY FIFTEEN
The food is gone. I hope I never see rum again. Amelia's being a clingy bitch. Something about her being the last woman on earth and how I should feel privileged that she chose me from the group.


DAY SEVENTEEN
New arrivals. No food. No water. No rum. Four new women.


DAY TWENTY-SEVEN
We had to eat Amelia.

The Rum Diary by Carolyn Glass

I modelled myself on Bridget Jones; it seemed such a good idea at the time, having a blog, it would encourage me to write every day. My life was so boring; it was a nice hobby, harmless. The trouble was, my love life was non-existent, I’d never smoked or taken drugs and was completely teetotal. So I decided to embellish a little. It was a little harmless fantasy, it was for me, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to take an interest in my blog. It was anonymous, so where was the harm?

I was pretty surprised even a little excited when a magazine editor, mentioned it in her editorial. I was flattered that she had been amused by my small efforts. I never gave a thought to what would happen next.

Once she had mentioned my blog, a lot of people started to take a look, it was a few weeks before I realised there was anything wrong. One Friday I witnessed a huge argument going on as I left the office, I knew the guy slightly and I assumed the girl was his wife or girlfriend. It looked like a pretty big argument.

The next Monday, security escorted a number of people from the building, no-one would talk about why, but they were all from the planning office, two floors above mine.

The penny finally dropped when I was called into the office of the managing director, and questioned about whether I had ever been subject of unwanted sexual advances from my line manager. I fervently denied that poor old Mr Jones had ever done anything inappropriate and couldn’t wait to get out. I feigned illness and went home early.

I went back over my blog, there it was, I had claimed an affair with the guy I had seen arguing with his wife/girlfriend; I claimed I had snorted coke with guys from the planning department; I claimed Mr Jones was a terrible letch who made unwanted advances to the female juniors in his department. How could I have been so naïve? I should have made sure the names were completely changed; I really didn’t expect anyone to spot links between the names in my blog and people they worked with. Obviously people weren’t as dumb as I gave them credit for. As long as they didn’t work out my name I would probably be alright, how could they track me down, it was all anonymous, I just needed to keep my nerve and abandon the blog or do one final one saying it was all fantasy. I’d sleep on it and it would all blow over.

I was awakened by a loud bang and shouts of “armed police” Oh dear, they must have found the post about my mythical terrorist boyfriend who was planning a suicide mission.

Day Seventeen

And today's prompt is...

The Rum Diary

Nuclear Family by James D. Irwin

We look out for each other in the shelters. We're not a traditional family, but those of us who survived have a saying: radioactive waste is thicker than blood.

Nuclear Family by Lesley Whyte

I shouldn't be sitting here. Night will fall soon and that's one of the rules - never stay out after dark. Not if you want to live 'til morning anyway. But I was sifting through the books, pulling out pages to burn on the fire if it gets cold enough that it's a choice between lighting a fire and freezing to death. It's headed that way. It's been getting colder for weeks.

Ma always used to laugh at the term "nuclear family." When people said we were a nuclear family - which meant two parents, two kids, usually a dog, too, though ours died when I was six and Ma said we couldn't get another one - she'd laugh and say "this family isn't nuclear, it's toxic." People would laugh but I didn't really get it. I was going through the library books and found a cover with that exact line written on it. I felt the tears welling up and bit them back, biting down hard enough on my tongue to draw blood. Being found was one thing. Being found in a sobbing heap on the floor was quite another.

I ripped the cover off that book but left the pages, tucking it back into its place on the shelf. I stashed the cover in my bag and started tearing up bibles instead. There was no religion anymore and they had a lot of fucking pages. There were no families either, but I left all the books with happy families on the cover well alone. Bibles it was.

Nuclear Family by Sara Travis

“If they’re thinking they can threaten us with bombs, they got another thing comin’.” says Daddy from the top of the table. His pie sits untouched to the side of his plate, maps and papers covering the surface. 

I force the remnants of the rabbit pie from my teeth with a toothpick and lean over to get a better look.
“So, what are we gonna do, Daddy?” 

Daddy smiles so wide I can see the teeth at the back of his mouth, sparkling, pearly whites.
“We’re gonna act first, dammit. We’re gonna drop a nuke on their ass.”

Mama drops her cutlery to her plate with a clatter.
“Boys, for the last time – I don’t like you talking war at the dinner table. Joey, eat your greens.”

Nuclear Family by Solomon Blaze

The Devil takes you Hand;

God takes your Soul.

‘Cause your down this hole,

All alone...

If a Crow flies straight,

Then where’s the road?

Because I’m tired,

Of all this pointless Rock n’ Roll.

It’s all about:

Heart

And Soul,

And Love

And Hate.

‘Be a Man and take the pain.’

So Everything else can stay the same...

Nuclear Family by Nick Trussler

‘Could you pass the potatoes please darling?’

My father asks, though the words come out muffled through his radiation suit.

I pass what I think are the potatoes but when you have three eyes, purple skin and no tongue everything looks and tastes the same. Sometimes it’s hard being part of a Nuclear family.

Day Seventeen

And today's prompt is...

Nuclear Family

Liberty Blue by Emily Chadwick

The colour Mum chose for the walls is called ‘liberty blue’. I dunno why. Spose it’s meant to represent freedom or some shit?

It’s a living room. Doesn’t need to represent freedom or anything.

What’s wrong with fucking beige, Mum?

Blue is calming, apparently. But why some pretentious middle-class bullshit like ‘liberty blue’?

The name doesn’t matter, it’s a pretty colour.

Bullshit. Would you buy something called ‘shit brown’? Didn’t think so.

Liberty blue.

Sounds like something a celeb would call their kid, then we’d be stuck hearing about darling ‘Libby’ for years to come. Eventually, she’d go by blue, get hooked on cocaine, and we’d have a hundred pics of her falling out of nightclubs with her tits out.

Yep, that’s what you’re having on your wall, Mum. Drunken tits.

Liberty fucking blue.

________________________________________________________________________

Note - this one did not come in late. I managed to lose it in the inbox. Apologies to Emily.

Liberty Blue by Lesley Whyte

Did you talk to adam?

We broke up

Omg, why??

You know last month when i noticed there was 1100 dollars missing from our account? i found out where it went. he gave it to some bitch called liberty blue.

Liberty blue? what kind of name is that?

A stripper name. shes a stripper.

No way! what did he say?

Nothing yet. he doesnt know i know. im guessing hell be calling me pretty soon.

What did you do?

I accidentally forwarded his entire email inbox to his mom. bitch wont try and tell me her sons too well brought up to look at porn again. hey, you want to go for a run later? i got some stuff of adams lying around. im thinking we should drop it in the quarry.

Omg, lol. I am SO there.

Liberty Blue by Sam Smith

‘You’re colour blind?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So what colour is that?’

‘Red?’

‘No, it’s Scooter Red.

‘Oh.’

‘Idiot.’

‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘What colour is that?’

‘Like, grey?

‘Christ, it’s Liberty Blue.’

‘Liberty Blue?’

‘Yeah, like the colour the Statue of Liberty is.’

‘What, grey?’

‘The Statue of Liberty is blue.’

‘No, it’s grey. It’s made of metal or stone or something.’

‘It’s blue! You’re really colour blind.’

‘Yes, I know. But it’s grey.’

‘It’s blue!’

‘Fuck off! I’m wikipediaing it!’

‘Fine, but it’s blue.’

‘No, look at that. It’s grey.’

‘That’s blue.’

‘Shut up! It’s grey!’

‘We can’t agree on this! Your eyes are stupid and can’t see things good.’

‘Oh, wait. Wikipedia says that the Statue of Liberty has turned blue over time because of rust and some other nonsense.’

‘See? It’s blue!’

‘I guess it is.’

‘So you only trust Wikipedia?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh. Idiot.’

Day Seventeen

And today's prompt is...

Liberty Blue.