List of /fiction writing
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FencoRead on…
Sina pulled the lever of the Fenco Payroller. The little wheel began spinning. This was the highlight of her day. Seeing the little icons with all the prospective prizes whiz by always got Sina dreaming. Today could be the day that she could win retirement on her very own island! Or a year vacation trip around all the biggest Fenco Cities! Or a fancy dinner at a five-star Fenco Diner. Or some Furniture Credits?
The little melody of beeps reached its apex as her prize flashed on screen. A second spin on a random day within the next month. Sina was giddy with delight. The Fenco psychologists really knew how to make the citizen employees happy. These elements of randomness interlocked so elegantly. And one day of work for one go at the Fenco Payroller was more than fair given the quality of some of the things you could get.
A Fenco pod pulled up and Sina got in. On the keyboard she selected her home address S1-N4. She still had enough Drink Credits to order a Fencola for the trip home. While the noiseless pod raced through the black tunnels Sina enjoyed some 2040s oldies while sipping on her fizzy refreshment. She knew what a luxury it was to be able to listen to so many songs. A couple years back the Fenco Payroller had landed on a fifty year unlimited song pass. If she listened with other people they of course still had to pay, but in cases like these where she was completely alone she could listen to as many songs from the catalogue as she wanted.
Rootin' Toot by The Fencehoppers faded to silence as the pod pulled up in front of her apartment. Sina got out and picked up the basic meal in front of her door as the pod sped off. She had spend her last Food Credits two weeks ago when she'd had celebrated her birthday with a couple of friends. But luckily Fenco didn't let anyone starve. Basic meals—just like transport to and from work, and even the basic apartments—were free for anyone, even those who didn't want to work. Sina shook her head as she thought of the people who didn't work for Fenco. How could one be so ungrateful?
She entered her apartment and turned on some music again. Her dashboard flared up and informed her that seven of her co-workers had thanked her for her work today. She tapped all the "thank back" button to keep the streaks going.
I'm so blessed, she thought as she unzipped her meal.
Read on… -
The Cracked EggRead on…
John had broken the egg and now it was too late. They say there's no use in crying over spilled milk, but this was different. Spilled milk you could clean up and go on with your life, but this egg. . .
John had gotten the egg when he had left the bank on Thursday. An old, hunched over woman had come up to him grabbed his hand and had placed the egg inside. She had looked up at him with her glassy eyes and warned him to take care of the egg and not to brake it. Then she had disappeared into the crowd.
John had stood there, stunned. He had still been processing what had happened. Then he had looked at the egg in his hand. It had looked like any other brown chicken egg. Suddenly, somebody had bumped into John. The egg had slipped and had begun to fall. John's reflexes had kicked in and he had surprised himself when he caught the egg again, safe and secure.
He had chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it all, but he had taken the egg with him. He had placed it in the car's cup holder and had later sat it down on the kitchen counter in a nest of napkins.
The next morning though, when he saw the egg still sitting there he had thought how stupid it was to him to have an egg just sitting there. What was he gonna do with it? The old woman had told him to take care of it, but what did she know? He'd just fry this egg for breakfast.
But when he had cracked the egg into the pan he was startled to find it empty. The moment felt completely surreal. Something else was off, not just that the egg was empty, something else was missing too. Suddenly he heard a woman behind him "Hello."
He turned, but nobody was there. "It's me."
He turned again. He knew that voice from somewhere.
"I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet."
Was that Adele playing? He turned off the radio, but the song continued playing. He opened up the cabinets trying to identify the source of the song, but there was nothing there. In his frustration John slammed the cabinets shut again, but he was terrified to find that they didn't make a sound. All he could hear was Adele's singing accompanied by the piano.
John tried to speak, and it must have worked, as he felt his vocal chords vibrate in his throat, but he couldn't hear. Finally, the song finished and there was a moment of silence. John clapped his hands, yet couldn't hear anything. Then there was the soft piano again and Adele's "Hello."
John screamed, he ran around the apartment banging on the walls and doors. He couldn't hear. Or rather, all he could hear was Adele. He covered his ears with his hands to no avail.
He tore open his apartment door and ran out onto the corridor where some of his neighbours were already gathering in confusion and anger. They pointed at him and their lips were moving, but he couldn't hear them.
Read on… -
At The CaféRead on…
Madeline added another cube of sugar to her coffee and stirred. She looked into the spinning spiral pattern inside her cup. The sugar cube falling into nothingness. Entropy at work.
"Oh, did I tell you? John took me horseback riding the other week."
Madeline didn't look up. Why couldn't Barbara quit yapping on for more than 2 minutes? With time Madeline had gotten good at tuning out Barbara's chatter. She picked up the small porcelain milk pot and began pouring it into the still swirling coffee. White lines were pulled into the centre of the vortex. Madeline watched as the black coffee slowly turned lighter and lighter. Now it started overflowing, light brown streaks running down the sides of the teal cup, slowly filling the saucer until finally that too starts to overrun. It seeps into the newspaper underneath.
The milk pot is empty. Madeline looks up. Barbara looks at her expectantly and brings forth a "Hm?"
"Oh yes, for sure." Madeline replies in a near monotone.
"That's what I had told him, but he wouldn't believe me! So when we next saw them. . ."
Madeline picked the spoon out of the cup. She used it to push the little apple pieces around on the cake in front of her. Tiny pieces of apple on a tiny piece of cake. Why do people pay for this? She started sorting the crumbles of dough to one side and the pieces of apple to the other. Never mind other people, why was she going to pay for this? She never had had any intention of eating it. She was done sorting the pieces and now started to transfer the crumbles into her cup one by one. And yet she had ordered it.
The waitress came over. Madeline had guessed that she couldn't be older than 20.
"Everything to your liking?"
"Oh, very much so. This raspberry cream tart is delicious."
Madeline glanced at the untouched piece on Barbara's plate.
"And you?"
"Good."
The waitress left again.
"What a cute little thing," Barbara started again, "I remember my first job as a waitress."
I'm sure you do, thought Madeline, tearing pieces of napkin and placing them on her cake. Tell me all about it.
Read on… -
Sweet Like HoneyRead on…
Pooh Bear awoke bright and early. "Today is a very special day," he said to himself and rolled out of bed. He stepped over to his wardrobe and inspected his shirt collection. "Got to look your best," he chuckled to himself as he picked a red one and pulled it over.
He then stepped into the kitchen where he stopped in front of the rack of honey pots. "That'll make a nice snack for on the way," he said as he took one pot under his arm and immediately dipped his other hand in to start eating.
With both hands occupied he pushed the door open using his butt. He strolled down the path between the trees of Ashdown Forest. It wasn't long until he met Tigger who came down jumping on his tail.
"Hey Pooh, do you want to go down to the lake and throw rocks into the lake?"
"Oh, no thank you. Maybe next time. But can you tell me how I look?"
"That's okay. What do you mean how you look? You're a yellow bear with a red shirt."
"Hm, thank you, Tigger. Goodbye."
Winnie-the-Pooh set off, annoyed at how simple his friend sometimes was. He knew what he looked like. He wanted to know whether he looked good, whether he looked sexy.
It wasn't long until he arrived at Piglet's house.
"Oh, Pooh, you look so sweet like honey today. Let's get you out of that shirt."
"My little Piglet, let me at least close the door behind me," he said, but as he closed it Piglet already started taking off his shirt and rubbing his strong, muscular chest.
"You really know how to touch me— Oh!" Pooh gasped as Piglet grabbed his bearhood.
"Shush, I'll take the lead from here," Piglet whispered.Suddenly the door behind Alice opened. It was Christopher. "Whatcha writing? One of your smutty fanfics again?" He bent over her shoulder and mumbled "taking off his shirt . . . grabbed his bearhood!? Alice, why does every single one of your fanfictions always need to revolve around the characters fucking? Can't you just write something nice? Them going on adventures or some shit?"
"It's just what I like to write. And the people on AO3 seem to like it as well. They are very nice and encouraging. And, like, be honest: Don't you think it's kinda hot?"
Christopher blushed. "Winnie-the-Pooh and fricking Piglet getting it on!?"
"Honest!" Alice insisted.
"I mean, I guess it's kinda hot."
"Getting you in the mood 'kinda hot'?"
"Maybe," Christopher grinned.
Alice started pulling up his shirt. "Well, Mr. Columbus. Do you want to explore my wonderland?"
Read on… -
The Talent ShowRead on…
Tina feels her hands getting sweaty. She is standing behind Keith who now enters onto the stage with his puppet. The audience cheers him on loudly. It must be 200 people out there. Tina's stomach turns at that thought.
Mr. Whitten had pressured her into signing up for the talent show. Tina had said no, Mr. Whitten had said yes, she had said yes. And now here she is. Next in line. With just her juggling balls. Tina is sweating so much that she drops one of them.
As she quickly bows down to pick it back up she feels a sense of vertigo come over her. She feels disoriented and nauseous. "You're up next." As if she doesn't know that already. "Are you alright? You look a bit pale."
Tina feels the sandwiches coming back up. She gulps them back down again before they can reach her mouth, but she can feel that this wasn't the last of them.
"Here, do you need a bin?" The stagehand passes her a large garbage bin.
"No, thanks I'm—" That's as far as Tina gets before throwing up.
"Oh dear, food poisoning?"
"Uh-huh," she nods, knowing full well that it's just her nerves. She spits into the bin again. When she lifts her head out of it she hears the moderator on stage call her name and the audience start clapping.
"I can't. I can't go out there!" she begs.
The moderator looks over expectantly. The stagehand motions widely while mouthing something. When the moderator understands they start stalling for time.
"Take a sip." The stagehand offers Tina a bottle of water. "Are you sure you can't go out there?" he asks as she takes a few gulps.
"No, I really can't."
The stage hand motions to the moderator again who announces the next act. Tina sits down on a chair.
"Maybe you should get some fresh air?"
Tina nods and gets up. She leaves through the back. Standing outside she takes a deep breath.
Read on… -
EggRead on…
Commander Chev set down the egg on the scanner. She initiated the scanner's DNA sequencing procedure and left the lab, heading to the medical showers. She turned around a couple of times to glance at the egg as the scanner was spinning around it until the lab door closed, cutting her line of sight. She entered the shower and washed the sludge and debris off her suit. After 30 seconds the computer chimed and she turned off the shower. The water running down the drain reminded her of some runny egg white. A couple seconds later a chime broke Chev out of her thoughts. She had already been dried.
Chev stepped out of the shower and went a couple of steps back towards the lab. She reminded herself of the credits she could get if this was a good egg and turned around. She unscrewed her helmet and took off her suit.
She strolled up to the cockpit and let herself fall down into her chair. She thought about how funny it was that hundreds of years ago this exact design had been pioneered by companies trying to make gaming chairs. Back then they were supposed to look futuristic and somehow they had really gotten it right.
Chev moved the engine from hover into flight mode. She had gotten from this rotten planet what she wanted—or rather, what her client wanted—so there was no point in spending anymore time in its gravitational pull.
As the engine changed its mode of operation the ship began humming. When Chev had bought this piece of junk seventeen years back the dodgy seller had told her it was the sound of electricity travelling through the wires, but through some investigating Chev had found out that it was merely the metal of the hull bending under the stress.
As the ship started accelerating the scanners result flashed up on the bottom left screen. Chev maximized the results onto the main screen.
50g, 97% edible.
That's a good one, Chev thought to herself. Her mouth started watering at the thought of the egg that was sitting just down the hall. No. She had to sell it. An egg of such quality would surely bring in about 12.000 credits. 17.000 even on the black market. 17k, for such a delicious egg. Chev closed her eyes as she pictured the cold egg white running down her throat while the yolk sat on her tongue, slowly unfolding its flavour. Chev snapped back. 17k, that would be enough to get a new ship. Her very own Raptor. Just don't think about that delicious egg until you get to a trading post.
Read on…