I mostly write fiction but this is something else. A sort of ten minute essay/brain splurge of thoughts on my first kiss.
They tell you that your first kiss will stop all time, the world will blur at the edges and all of your senses will be focused on that one moment in time when your lips meet another’s.
The movies are bullshit.
After an unexpected break (not sure what happened there, the week entirely passed me by), we're back for a Sunday evening dystopian tale.
She had only £10 left. £10 of real money before she had to apply for government provided Tokens. She didn’t quite know what to do with it.
When the mint had stopped printing and the Tokens were announced she had stared at her meagre bank account and worried how long she could live before every penny she spent would be monitored.
Oh I do love a weird future situation.
Granny1346 was released from the confines of its charging bay. At the click of disconnection it immediately wheeled out through the doors and down the ramp to the nursery. Granny1346 was one of the ones more suited to dealing with upset and crying children. A Comfort Granny.
The crying was coming from one of the children in the corner. He was weeping onto a pile of building blocks, face red and puffy.
He really should be wearing a tinfoil hat, that was how it felt. Those eyes boring into him, the look of absolute disbelief. He knew what he had seen but the looks he was receiving made him want to second-guess his own senses.
He saw what he saw, he knew it. He had heard what they had said and now he was doing the right thing and telling the authorities. Only the authorities were struggling to hold back laughter as he finally broke eye contact and looked at his knees.
“Now, son. Do you think maybe you want to rethink that statement?”
So this is a little sad for a Sunday evening, sorry about that.
Remember, remember the fifth of November. Gunpowder, treason and plot.
The fifth of November must never be forgot, they say. Well fuck that, because the fifth of November was an icy cold, nightmare of a day that ended in tears and snot and a goddamn headache that throbbed and pulsed.
She didn’t know why crying caused her head to feel as if it was full of lead but as she wiped at her puffy, sore eyes she could feel it beat a pattern behind her forehead.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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