They call it “education” and “promoting awareness” instead of what it really is.
Brainwashing and bullying.
“Everyone accepts it,” the activist says.
“I don’t. And I know a lot of people who feel the same way,” she says.
In minutes, she is surrounded by a mob of angry people screaming obscenities at her. She stands her ground.
If they have a right to have an opinion, so did she.
Genre: slice of life, spiritual
For one night, the church was transformed into a glorious food market. Stalls of homemade cuisines from all over the world filled the space, gathered for the sake of raising funds to support those making a difference in other countries and the local community.
All the stalls had prominent banners and price tags, except one. Simple, slightly burnt cookies sat price-less on the table as a group of four stood behind.
“How much are these?” people asked.
“As much as you want to contribute to saving lives,” they answered.
Some gave little, some gave much. They carefully collected the money in a little box.
Once, they were broken people trapped in a lonely life going nowhere. Then a group of strangers stepped into their lives and saved them from themselves. The cookies weren’t much, but it was their way of returning the favour.
It’s a new month, which means new goals.
Here’s what I hope to do in September:
- Categorise my story by length
- Create a patreon page
Hopefully the former would make it easier to navigate this blog, and if you have any suggestions or tips on the latter please let me know.
Have a super September everyone 🙂
As a kid, he had always been enamored of the idea of being a hero. Heroes got the cool powers and beat all the bad guys. Sometimes they lost, but they always won in the end.
As a teen, he still loved the thought of being a hero, but it was tempered by the knowledge that bad things happened to good people, the world was filled with thankless people, and heroes didn’t always win.
As an adult, he thought he had given up on that childish dream, until he saw someone getting robbed. With only a slight hesitation (what if I fail?), he jumped in and beat up the robber while the victim called the police.
As a local hero, life continued pretty much unchanged. Occasionally, people would stare and whisper, but that stopped as the weeks passed. In the end, all he had was the satisfaction of having done the right thing.
And he understood why the heroes kept going.
“Your execution will happen tomorrow. Any last requests?”
“I request a dignified death,” the prisoner said, “Not in chains, but in my Sunday bests, as if I died on my way to a friend’s for tea.”
The prison guards granted his request. The next day, the prisoner stood at the door looking fresh and gentlemanly, while a sniper waited on a nearby rooftop.
Just before he stepped out, the prisoner took a deep breath, savoring the moment.
Then he ran.
The sniper missed. The guards’ hands caught thin air. The prisoner escaped.
The serial killer was back.
Genre: science fiction
The robot moved its arm as she did. Same speed, same angle, same direction. She moved on to simple strikes and kicks. The robot imitated her perfectly.
Little by little, she upped the intensity. She fought imaginary opponents, scaled impossible terrains, twisted her body in ways that would break most people.
Still, the robot kept up, until it didn’t. Eventually, it slowed enough that they were completely out of sync. They stopped the experiment.
“Getting better, but needs more work,” the lead researcher muttered to himself as he dove straight into the controls.
She stood at the side and waited for them to call her again. Given a choice, she would rather be out there, fighting their enemies, but if staying here would help them build an army that could keep her comrades alive, then here she would stay.
Genre: slice of life
Inspired by the prompt visceral.
His mind wanted it, but his body rebelled.
“Sir?” the waitress prompted.
“No, thank you.”
The waitress nodded and walked away to serve her tray of canapé to another guest. He watched the soft shell crabs go and tried to ignore the tingling on his lips from his last allergic reaction.
A few moments of bliss was not worth an eternity of death.
He squeezed the limb, making the blood inside ooze out.
“Changed your mind?” he asked as he waved the limb at his target, who looked seconds away from crying.
A hand slapped the back of his head.
“Stop bullying your sister and eat.”
His lips twisted. “Cheh.”
He bit into the drumstick and looked at his sister as he tore a chunk out with his teeth. His sister finally burst into tears.
He fled the table before his mother whacked him with a dictionary.
The platform lurched beneath their feet. They both stumbled, but while he was busy regaining his balance, she threw herself forward and slammed her hammer on his head.
With a scream, they toppled into the water. Their hammers surfaced first, then her, then him.
“Winner, blue team!”