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Can I nudge you out of your comfort zone with this week’s challenge image? Start your weekend wondering what the future may hold, here or wherever you imagine. 100 words is all you need to complete your story.
I’ll start with a story …
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Mother shushed the children as they tumbled, laughing, into the house.
“Mam.” They fell silent, glancing at the ancient woman. Mother singled out Seth, “My eggs?”
He grabbed his antigrav belt, hating his chore of chasing chickens out of the trees, avoiding their needle teeth, just so Mother had fresh eggs for breakfast. He ignored Mam, a First Wave, weeping over album images that rotated above her lap.
“Unfair.” Seth mumbled as he unsealed the door and stepped out under the two rising moons, “I’m SO off this farm when I’m 18.”
Too bad he could never go to Earth.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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feature image from Pixabay
MikeyParks says: Please don’t make me think!
GWB says: Jim knew it had been a gamble, planting his crops in line with the alien structure. The gamble had been won for several years, his barley growing to full ripeness, and the harvest feeding the small community through the deep winters.
But not this year. No, the shadow of the giant had fallen across the land, and Jim knew that soon one of the giant’s metal and plastic contraptions would come racing down the shiny track and plow through the midst of his crops, obliterating them and dooming them to a very slim winter.
GWB says: *dooming the community
Dave M says: In this neck of Wisconsin, we had a tornado touch down less than 10 miles from us. My daughter, son-in-law, and three grandsons stopped by on their way back from the store to wait out the bad storm cell.
When they walked through the door, the youngest of my grandsons ran up to me and in an excited voice told me, “Gwampa! Der’s tomatoes out der. Bad tomatoes.”
Since that fateful evening, I’m going through my days with a wayward eye in the sky worried about bad tomatoes. Watching ketchup fall from the sky ruins a good weekend.
Dave says: Hefting her pack, Nikki continued walking toward the behemoth. She remembered the day the space elevator became operational. The 24-hour news was nothing but “man’s” new achievement. Really, just one man; one really, really rich man who could buy politicians and news cycles to promote stealing other people’s lands – her father’s land.
The land grab was mandated as a safety net in case the 110-mile structure fell; 150 square miles bought for a fraction of the price and people forced out. Today, Nikki was going to prove that land’s worth by bringing the elevator down. All the way down. Forever.
[…] “We left our Safe Space a week ago,” started Randy, striding with his walking stick. “Yes. The legend said Progress Tower lay toward sunrise. It was true,” replied Jeff. “HALT! YOUR. PRESENCE. ON. THIS. PUBLIC. LAND. IS. NOT. AUTHORIZED.” a ‘bird’ above their heads made swift, perfect circles and shrieked metalically. “Is that a LawDrone?” asked Randy. “I’ve never seen one that small or maneuverable.” “DISPERSE. YOU. ARE. UNAUTHORIZED.” chided the drone, maneuvering to hover before them at eye level. Randy swung his stick rapidly. Would have been a homer. The drone traced an arc; crashed; exploded. The Uprising began. — via Darleen […]
Brian Brandt says: Someday some spacefarers will find our planet. Something of this monument will remain after the nova of our sun has destroyed us. Something of us will remain. They will find buried our art, our machines, our history. After all these years of increasing instability, the scientists say that the time is at hand. The flares are now visible to the eye. A wave of blinding light . . . .
– – – – –
“Stranger, we have followed this new star in the sky each night on a long journey, and now it has stopped. Can you tell us the name of this town?”
“Bethlehem.”
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