3 bottles of cheap wine
Half a dozen cans of beer
1 goldfish bowl of bad decisions
3 tbsp self doubt
3 ounces of dutch courage
“I think I’m lost.” I muttered to myself as I turned right, for the third time. Someone, at some point, had said you had to follow the right-hand path of a maze to get to the middle. Or maybe it was the left. Shit.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying myself, but I had lost all of the people I had been walking with and had been stumbling around lost for at least 10 minutes without seeing anyone I recognised.
The beginning was always the weirdest time, so much anticipation and anxiety and impatience all rolled up into a ball of energy trapped in the confined space of the morning ablutions. It was dealt with quickly, too much to get done to waste time on pointless beautifying.
Day one was the day to begin adventures. Day one was the day where the best laid plans either succeed or die.
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.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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