Showing posts with label Day Twenty-Six. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Day Twenty-Six. Show all posts

Monday, 27 January 2014

Hereafter by Lesley Whyte

"And then you just need to sign here and then we're done. You're completely signed over to us - you don't have to worry about doing anything for yourself anymore. We'll make all your decisions for you, we'll take care of everything. You can just relax and enjoy things. Hereafter, we'll make sure you don't make any mistakes. Won't that be nice?"

I hesitate. I booked my holiday for the wrong weekend. It cost me an absolute fortune. I simply can't be trusted to do things on my own. This is for the best. I don't care that everyone says they want control of people for nefarious reasons. I just know I can't be trusted as we go forward.

I sign the paper.

"There. That was easy, wasn't it? From now on, nothing will be more difficult than that. We'll take care of you, we'll take care of everything."



Hereafter by Carolyn Glass

From now on; after this; eventually; henceforth; in the course of time; in the future; ultimately; at the end of the day; in the long run; someday; sometime; sooner or later; when all is said and done. It doesn’t matter which way you say it, the bottom line is it’s your responsibility to empty the dishwasher, so stop prevaricating and get on with it.



Day Twenty-Six

And today's prompt is...

Hereafter



Monday, 27 May 2013

Hysteria by James D. Irwin

The gathered crowd didn't seem very excited. In fact at least one man seemed to be yawning. Everyone else was gazing at little tiny screens in the palms of their hands. He thought maybe the site of an alien from a distant planet might provoke some hysteria, but nobody much seemed to care.

The unearthly traveller wondered around for a while, and tried unsuccessfully to get into this Game of Thrones show everyone seemed to be talking about. After two weeks he got bored of waiting for someone to show any interest in him, gave up and went home--- taking the secrets of life with him. He was halfway to Jupiter before he realised he'd been under a cloaking device the whole time.


Hysteria by Sara Travis

They’re coming. You’ll see. They’re coming. And when they come, you’d better be prepared. Who knows what sort of technology they’ll have. Stun guns and laser beams and zappy weaponry that will make humans just evaporate. We’re so behind, they’ve got billions of years of experience on us. We think we’re so forward thinking, so technologically minded, so smart, it’ll never happen. That’s what you think, isn’t it? That it’ll never happen. Well, let me tell you something. It’ll happen. It’s already happening. Can’t you see it? It’s everywhere, all the time. They’re watching us. Always. We need to get preparing, we need to protect ourselves. I won’t let them take me. I won’t. They’ll creep into our houses in the middle of the night and take our children, our women, and torture them, experiment on them. I know, I’ve read about it. We need to start now, before it’s too late. Arm ourselves. I’ve built myself a bunker in the garden. There’s a secret doorway in the floor, underneath my – I shouldn’t have told you that. I shouldn’t have told you that. Pretend you didn’t hear that. If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you. I’ll sneak up on you and rip your heart out. I mean it, I’ll do it. Don’t think I won’t, because I will. Unless you’re one of them. My God, you’re one of them, aren’t you? You can read my thoughts, can’t you? You’re making me tell you about the door to my bunker under the rockery, aren’t you? Jesus, you’re good. Oh-ho-ho, you’re good. I could be good, too. I could help you. I’ve believed in you my whole life, even when people told me I was mad, even when the boys at school kicked my head in, even when Mum had me stay in that hospital for a month for evaluation. I knew. I’ve always known. I’ve got a sixth sense, I think. I could help you. We could be great, you know. I know things. I know loads of things. Take me with you!



Hysteria by Lesley Whyte

"Did you know that the word hysteria comes from the Latin for woman? Because it was thought that only women could become hysterical? Something to do with their menstruation or lady bits, I didn't fully understand that part. But it's interesting, right? And it must be some comfort to you, I suppose, knowing that none of this is your fault. That you're only hysterical because you're a woman."

I lunged across the table and tried to throttle him. Not because I was hysterical, but because he was being really fucking obnoxious. And he was wrong. Hysteria does not come from the Latin for woman, it comes from the word for uterus. And, actually, I think it's Greek. But whatever. Apparently you can't try to throttle your father and then bite the orderly that tries to restrain you and still have people believe you're sane. What a fucked up world we live in.



Day Twenty-Six



And today's prompt is...

Hysteria



Saturday, 26 May 2012

Soft Steel by Lesley Whyte

"So, Mara, what did you learn at school today?" Mum asks me, fixing her gaze and cold smile on me. She's trying the whole let's-pretend-we're-a-happy-family thing again. It worked a lot better when Dad was still here.

"Nothing," I say.

"You must have learned something," she says, and I can tell it's through gritted teeth. She's annoyed because Jake rattled off a whole bunch of stuff while we were eating dinner. Now that we're onto dessert, she's onto me.

"Well, there was one thing," I say around a mouthful of yoghurt. Strawberry. I'd rather have raspberry, but she doesn't listen to me.

She winces, like she wants to tell me not to talk with my mouth full but is too relieved that I'm talking at all to give me any kind of grief about it.

"They've invented this soft steel stuff."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm serious. It's steel, but soft."

Mum laughs, her tinkly little laugh. I'll give her credit for that at least, her fake laugh sounds just like her genuine one. Or maybe I've never heard her laugh for real.

"It's not funny," I tell her. "It's a real thing."

"Oh, pray tell, wise daughter of mine, what on earth would anybody use soft steel for?"

"I don't know," I say, and then an idea hits. I struggle to keep my face straight and wait for her
to take another spoonful of her own yoghurt. Low fat vanilla that says more about her than I ever could. "I guess you could use it for condoms."

Her jaw drops.

"And you really should keep your mouth shut when you're eating."

Soft Steel by Emily Chadwick

“Once upon a time, there was an evil queen. She had raven-black hair and eyes like soft steel.”

“But, Dad, steel is a metal.”

“Metal can be soft. Like gold.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Okay, fine. The evil queen had raven-black hair and eyes like hard steel.”

“That’s better.”

“Are you going to be quiet and let me tell you the story or not?”

“Okay, I’ll be quiet.”

Soft Steel by Sam Smith

‘Soft steel, what bloody use is that?’

‘It can be shaped into things I guess. What do you want to make?’

‘I don’t know. I’m still a bit sceptical about this whole thing.’

‘Look, there’s nothing to do worry about. I’ll make something.’

‘What are you making?’

‘Watch.’

‘It’s a boat.’

‘I hate boats.’

‘What’s wrong with boats?’

‘They’re bullshit.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Boats are stupid. Just use a plane you bloody idiot.’

‘Fine, hold on.’

‘Are you making a plane?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m scared of flying.’

‘Christ, what do you want me to make?’

‘Me.’

‘You?’

‘Me. Make a tiny steel me.’

‘Why?’

‘I want to be the strongest man.’

‘But it will be made of soft steel.’

‘Make it.’

‘Please let me sleep.’

‘No, you have to stay awake. Show me something else. I am bored of soft steel.’

‘Here is a small animal.’

‘Okay.’

Day Twenty-Six


And today's prompt is...

Soft Steel.