Dystopia

I really dislike dystopian fiction. It relies on the reader having a divergent system of moral beliefs from the society depicted in the work. It then assumes that this divergent moral code is objectively more correct than the dystopian society's. Also, if you just shot the main character, it would become a utopian fiction. There are some exceptions, like The Handmaid's Tale, written by Margaret Atwood. Unlike something like The Giver or Brave New World, the society depicted in THT shows, after the harmonious veneer is peeled away, cracks that can be exposed without the juxtaposition of the protagonist's alternative moral view.

100 Words a Day 142

The expansive house was filled with the odor of death. It didn’t make sense. There was only one body and it was in the refrigerator. It was fresh and shouldn’t be responsible for the overwhelming smell.

Simpsons made his way through the house, looking for the source of the odor. He stood in the foyer after having finished searching the house for a second time and finding nothing. On a hunch, he went to the hall closet. He tapped on the walls, listening. He went back through the house, exploring the closets. In the kitchen, he found a secret door.

100 Words a Day 141

It was hard to force himself to continue working. It was his last day and he couldn’t wait to leave. He took a deep breath, let it out, and continued putting data in the little columns. Less than four hours and he would never have to do this again.

His book had sold. The advance was enough to pay his rent and groceries for the next few months, which meant he had enough time to write another book.

The clock seemed to be going backwards. It was hard to not glance at it every few seconds, which made it worse.

100 Words a day 140

The diaphanous curtain was pulled open by a soft breeze, and she entered the room. Her dress was the colors of spring, rich greens, purples, and a striking blue. I watched her float across the floor; the soft material making no sound.

When she passed me, it was as though a cool breeze was caressing my cheek. I felt refreshed as she walked deeper into the house.

Her perfume lingered, the only sign of her passing. I couldn’t place any of the scents; their names danced on the tip of my tongue before being blown away by another cool breeze.

100 Words a Day 139

Jimmy laughed as he finished pouring the rest of the white crystals into the sugar bowl. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Sara’s face when she drank her coffee tomorrow after mixing it with two heaping tablespoons of salt. After topping of the bowl, he replaced it on the table and returned the salt to its space in the cupboard. He took one more look around to make sure no one had seen him; it was late at night, but why take the change. He saw no one and, subterfuge complete, slipped back to bed and fell asleep.

100 Words a Day 138

The Christmas presents were opened, the ham was eaten, and The Hobbit was seen. It was the end of Christmas Day. Bobby lay in bed, thinking about the great presents he’d received. He was almost as anxious to get up tomorrow to play with them as he had been to get up today to open them. He went over what he had received, checking things off the extensive mental Christmas list he kept.

He fell asleep with a full stomach, dreaming of Legos and Ninja Turtles, and all the other things of which boys drunk on the Christmas season dream.

100 Words a Day 137

The smoke from the barrel of the gun drifted upwards, the silent vestiges of the bullet recently fired, and was dissipated by the ceiling fan.

The hand, hidden by a black glove, replaced the revolver in the holster concealed by his jacket, it then went to a grey pants pocket, the same grey as the jacket, and withdrew a bronze key.

The other hand, similarly gloved, opened the door. Once outside, the hand holding the key locked the door, which bolted with a heavy clank, before returning the key to the pocket.

All that was left was to drive away.

100 Words a Day 136

He slammed his keyboard into the table in frustration.

“Camping bitch!” he shouted.

He couldn’t believe that he had been knocked out of the final round by a camper. That was something noobs did and something that only worked on noobs. He should be better than that. He was a pro.

Well, he was going to be a pro, after he finished school.

Well, he wanted to be a pro.

It was hard work, managing training and school. Most people don’t understand. They think it’s easy to play video games eight hours a day five days a week with classes.

100 Words a Day 135

He woke up to the credits rolling.

“What did you think of the movie?” she asked.

“Uh,” he said, frantically searching for something to say. He couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened. The movie was so boring from the onset that he fell asleep within the first few minutes.

“I…thought the characters were interesting,” he said. She was always going on about the characters.

“Which was your favorite, baby?” she asked.

“I couldn’t say. I thought the protagonist and her friend had an interesting dynamic.” There was always a friend.

“Honey, you were snoring during the entire movie.”

100 Words a Day 134

He sighed when he saw the car. The front end was bent around the telephone pole and there was steam coming out of the front. .

“Well, radiator’s shot,” he said. .

He circled the car slowly, taking in the other damage. The windshield was cracked; it looked like a spider web. One of the tires wasn’t facing the same direction as the others. Finally, it looked totaled. .

He cocked his head and a flash of sadness crossed his face. .

“Well Betsy, we had a good run,” he said to the car, running a forlorn hand over the body of his baby.

100 Words a Day 133

The snow was cold against his face. The last time he’d fallen, the shock of the cold had brought him back to full consciousness. Not this time however. The cold snow felt warm against his cheek. He wanted to nestle down in the soft snow and drift off to warm dreams.

He started to drift away, imagining the last time he had seen Viviana. She had worn her hair down, despite the summer heat. She had done it because he loved the way it shimmered in the sun. As they lay in the grass, her soft hand brushed his cheek.

100 Words a Day 132

Garret dug around in his pockets for change. The other riders stared hellfire at him; the driver refused to pull away from the stop until he had paid the fare.

Hands searching through pants and jacket, Garret eventually found a nickel. With a sigh of relief he gave it to the driver.

The bus doors clunked shut behind him as he walked down the aisle under the smoldering stares of the other commuters. He found a seat, still hot from the previous occupant.

People continued to stare at him. He pulled at the collar of his shirt; he was sweating.

100 Words a Day 131

“You’re off the force Grabowski! Give me your badge!” The lieutenant shouted.

“Aren’t you going to ask for my gun?” Grabowski demanded as he threw his badge on the desk.

“Yeah, I’ll have that too!”

“And I want you to keep your nose out of this case,” the lieutenant continued as he accepted Grabowski’s firearm, “If I get even a hint that you are poking about, I’ll have you in cuffs faster than Perkins can get from the office to the doughnut shop!”

Grabowski stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the blinds.

100 Words a Day 130

“A Morgan? He drives a Morgan?” Jack said as Dr. Maretti drove by.

 “Does he think he’s a crime kingpin from the 1920s?” he asked.

“Apparently so,” Michael responded, dryly.

 “I can’t take him seriously. How can he possibly be the mastermind behind the string of tech thefts?” 

“Couldn’t say,” Michael replied.

 Jack shook his head. “Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to follow him. He sticks out like a sore thumb in that car.”

 “Yep.”

 “But how can we catch him in the act? He’s slippery, that one.”

“Yep.”

“Do you have any ideas Michael?” Jack asked his friend.

100 Words a Day 129

The interior of the refrigerator was clean; although if you looked hard there were cracks and crevices the owner had permitted to remain slimy. It was stocked with cheap beer. Cans occupied the majority of the bottom shelf, stacked two high. The crisper contained fruit, mostly the kind that could be used to make cocktails. Vegetables were stored above the beer. Again, they were mostly the kind you would use for drinks. The top shelf of the fridge was stocked with bottles of red and white on their side. They were of a variety of vintages, all of them bad.

100 Words a Day 128

Jason finished tying his tie and looked in the mirror. He looked sharp. He had a hint of a five o’clock shadow and his hair was a little disheveled, just like Jessica liked it. He grabbed the present he had purchased earlier. It was in a matte black box with a crimson ribbon. The bow was expertly tied and soft to the touch. He stepped into his car, which he’d had cleaned and washed that day. With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life. He pushed the clutch in, put the car in gear, and was off.

100 Words a Day 127

He could almost reach his boot knife. Straining for it, he watched dozens of bubbles, each containing precious air, leave his mouth and float towards the surface. At least I didn’t lose my mask, he thought to himself. The octopus continued to try to wrap him up with its tentacles and had landed a few painful bites with its beak. The water was beginning to turn red. He could see a few sharks making a wide circle around him and the octopus. He didn’t have time to worry about that though. He needed to get to his damn boot knife.

100 Words a Day 126

The last thing he remembered was the alarm. It had wailed and flashed as he ran for the exit. Now he was in the dark, lying in some cold fluid. He tried to sit up, but there was a heavy weight across his chest. He shoved it off his body, letting it fall to the ground with a wet clang that echoed through the dark. He was surprised at the noise it made when it hit the ground. It didn’t feel as heavy as it sounded. He fumbled around, looking for a light switch or a door. He found neither.

100 Words a Day 125

Strigoi sighed as he ripped off the vampire’s head, casually tossing it aside. It made him sad. His kin used to be Terror. People linked them to the bubonic plague, tuberculosis, things going bump in the night. Now they fodder for girls’ bizarre fantasies. The one he just killed had been the worst. Taking advantage of young girls enamored with the idea of some creature of the night that would throw them down…and bite them gently. He shook his head and kicked the body into the sewer. “We are undead monstrosities,” he said aloud, “not the stuff of schoolgirl fantasy.”

100 Words a Day 124

The cashier line was long. Matthew shifted his feet in agitation. He looked at his cellphone again; the minutes were screaming by. “Why doesn’t this ever happen at work?” he muttered to himself.

“Excuse me?” the woman in front of him asked, turning towards him.

 “Huh,” he responded, not realizing he had spoken so loud, “oh, nothing,” he responded, embarrassed.

Matthew looked down at the floor, sighing. Matthew shuffled along slowly with the line, but it didn’t seem to be getting shorter. He did his best to keep his agitation to himself. He was never going to make his date.

100 Words a Day 123

“Literature can be divided into two categories,” Matt said, “short and good, and long and bad.”

 “What do you mean?” Jeff asked.

 “Well, think about it. What are all the books people are forced to read and almost everyone hates?”

 “No idea.”

 “War and Peace, Moby Dick, Don Quixote, the list goes on. And now, think about all the literature people liked reading; Things Fall Apart and The Giver for example. They are both pretty short and don’t try to do anything fancy. They just lay it out for you.”

 “Uh, I guess so.”

 “Exactly. Less words is more better.”

100 Words a Day 122

The stench when he heaved the stone lid off the sarcophagus was horrific. After a few moments the strength of the odor diminished and Hector was able to approach the corpse. The body was heavily decayed. All that remained were bones and some flimsy strands of flesh. The armor encasing the body was corroded. It was black and pitted, the magnificent craftsmanship reduced to scrap metal. The sword however, remained, undamaged by time. Hector pulled it from the tattered remains of the skeleton’s grasp. The weak light of the torches reflected off the brilliant edge of the still sharp blade.

100 Words a Day 121

When he awoke he found himself on an unfamiliar world. Looking up through the canopy of strange vegetation he saw the lurid green sky. He inhaled the putrid air of the rotting vegetation, and began coughing as the miasma irritated his lungs. After recovering, he crept through the alien jungle. It was full of unfamiliar sounds, creaks and calls that were totally foreign to him. He looked around, searching for anything that might be a threat, plant or animal. He tried to avoid touching anything around him, but the leaves that brushed his clothing left an oily, sticky residue behind.

100 Words a Day 120

The kitten and the puppy got up together, as they always did, early in the morning. They went bounding into their owners’ bedroom, leapt on the bed, and began nudging Tina. She rolled over, vainly attempting to escape the puppy’s cold nose and the kitten’s pokey one. They prodded her until she got up. Stumbling into the kitchen, she poured breakfast for the two. They attacked their meals with gusto and, upon finishing, chased each other around the apartment. Their eight little feet made a thunderous racket on the hardwood floor. Tina made her own breakfast, occasionally dodging the pair.

100 Words a Day 119

He could hardly wait disembark. After hours on the cramped jet, they had landed. After what felt like forever, they deplaned. He stepped off and was greeted by a familiar smell, the smell of Barajas. It brought a tear to his eye, that familiar smell. He didn’t even mind the long walk past numerous defibrillators. Customs was a long wait; longer than last time. He shifted his weight restlessly, waiting for his turn to get his passport stamped. Finally it was. Eventually he made it out the sliding doors. He took a deep breath and smiled. He was in Spain.

100 Words a Day 118

The zoo was open despite the cold. The pair walked through the wrought gate and were greeted by the sight of penguins. They were standing on their artificial ice, huddling together. That’s how they stayed warm. “Penguins are so cute!” she said. He didn’t say anything. Girls always said that about penguins. He hadn’t met a single girl who didn’t like penguins. They stood and watched the penguins stand. After a few minutes it, the caretakers let a school of fish into the penguins’ pond. As one, they dove into the water, sliding on their bellies, and went to feast.

100 Words a Day 117

It was hot. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, causing the cheap ink of the papers he hunched over to run as it mixed with his sweaty precipitation. The heat had been unrelenting for several days. The office manager couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do anything about it. The higher ups sat in their office, cooled by the frosty kiss of their own air conditioner, wanting for nothing. It reminded the boy of that scene from the Oliver Twist movie. He, and the rest of the boys, languished while those in charge luxuriated, and heaven forbid they ask for anything.

100 Words a Day 116

She sat with a beer in her hand, a Sam Adams. And that was exactly why he wasn’t going to talk to her.

Maybe that would have made her the girl who likes beer and is cool back in California, but Chicago was a town with a burgeoning beer culture.

She was pretty cute, but her beer choice was trying way too hard.

He scanned the room and saw a few other girls he wouldn’t mind talking to. He glanced once more at the girl from California. She was definitely the cutest girl in the room, but looks aren’t everything.

100 Words a Day 115

He stumbled out of his room and struggled to the bathroom, moaning all the way. He had the misfortune to cross a sunbeam coming through the hallway window. It felt warm on his face, and sent lancing pain through his skull. Clutching his head, he fled from the light, eventually finding the bathroom door.

Worshiping at the feet of the porcelain goddess made his stomach feel better, but not the rest of him. With an aching stomach, he crawled back to his room, careful to avoid the sun. He hauled himself into bed and pulled the covers over his head.

100 Words a Day 114

“Mom!” the boy said, trying to hurry his mother, who was, in his opinion, puttering.

“Yes dear, I’m coming,” she said, continuing to put things away in the kitchen.

“We’re going to be late!” the boy said, his voice cracking with irritation.

“Honey, the dance doesn’t start for over an hour. We aren’t going to be late.”

Her tone exasperated the boy. He could picture her expression. She let her mouth stay open slightly at the end of her sentence and was looking over the rims of her glasses.

He shook his head in frustration and went into the kitchen.