The automobile had been passed onto him by his grandfather. Weekends saw him tinkering with the machine, buffing the chromework, and lovingly cleaning the leather upholstery. While working on the car, he would remember the pleasant moments spent with his role model. He wished often he had listened to the last piece of advice given over the bonnet of the car: “Marry a woman who understands the enticing purr of a well-run engine.” Instead her beauty, charisma and joie de vivre had beguiled him. Twenty years later, she had become bitter with disappointment and they had nothing in common. (99 words)
The gloomy surroundings were free of hope and laughter. Mothers hurried their children home and old folk scurried along as fast as they could. The area had long been forgotten by those who had the power to change things. Parks were neglected and maintenance crews were slow to do repairs. Nature, however, has a way of providing beauty. Signs of Spring pushed through the gritty soil, suggesting hope and renewal. The colour and optimism of the flower did not last. The gang members gathered near the natural beauty and trampled the plants heartlessly. Their dominance remained unchallenged.
The water crept up overland during the night. Unseen. Acres of crops were submerged; animals and humans drowned. The tranquil water caused panic among the villagers – especially when those on the higher ground refused them entry into the barricaded compounds. The wealthy did not consider the lives of the menial hands. What they saw was the rising water and the limited space on the hillside. A few days later the water crept back to sea, leaving behind muddy devastation. Carrion fed and the survivors were left with the task to begin again with nothing except their soft hands and intellect.
Do you think the wealthy have any regrets about helping the workers gain acess into the compound?
The stool in front of the spinet remained unused; the ivory keys untouched. Each day the instrument was lovingly dusted by the faithful servant in the hopes that her young charge would return. The mother stared unseeingly through the window, thinking of the day her beloved daughter had flounced out of the room on the arm of her young beau. They had warned her he was a scroundrel who would not be able to support her. She had laughed, claiming “love would find a way”. They had searched for them but to no avail. Now they waited for the inevitable.
The battered stairway had seen plenty in its lifetime. It remembered the debut of its life and the young couple who had first stepped onto it. They had been exhuberant, full of hope. The years had slowly eroded her joyfulness and brought with it disillusionment. The children had skipped up and down the cement stairs, turning into adults with their own young trailing behind them. The first family had long ago left this place. Now foot traffic hardly passed down these stairs. Architects had come by, planning a new building. Its life was over and it passed with no regrets.
The Learjet waited on the tarmac, engines running. The officials hurried into the plane, eager to begin. The task? Flying to hot spots around the world in an effort to gain support for their subversive programme. They had been told that without these signatures, the project they had been working on would not materialise. The plan? To become, once again, a true patriarchial society. The tides had been changing in the last few decades and women needed to be subdued. The men sat in their seats and decisively snapped on their seatbelts. First stop: London.
The abandoned costume told its story of disappointment and disillusionment. The audition had not gone as expected. Instead dreams and hopes had been shattered with the cruel words of the decision makers. Months of hard work and late nights had been crushed by their mockery. Tonight would be one of self-pity – it was allowed. But tomorrow would be another day and, with it, the abandoned costume and dreams would be picked up and cared for again. Auditioning was not easy and yet, when accepted, one more step is taken towards achieving the Dream.
The cliffs were awe inspiring and made her problems seem small but she could not stop thinking of her involvement in the catastophe. She had thought she was doing some good, not realising that her “friends” were planning a break-in with the aim of destabilising the Organisation. Walking along the beach, she listened to the soothing sound of the water crashing on the shore. She wished to lose herself in the serenity of her surroundings yet her guilt would not allow her to escape her thoughts. So many people had died! And all for nothing.
Area E48 had been cordoned off, preventing curious bystanders from discovering the truth. The middle-aged woman had been taken quickly and effortlessy. All that remained of her presence was an unmatched shoe and her hysterical daughter.
“Aliens took her! Their long arms pulled her into their ship!”
“Yes, ma’am. I am sure that is what you saw.”
Those at the top of the city’s bureacracy knew there was truth in the woman’s hysterical ramblings. The alien presence on earth was a long kept secret which they intended to keep. The daughter would be dealt with quickly.
The oncoming lights flashed by quickly. She began to feel a sense of desperation. Why would nobody stop? She looked over the edge and saw his head bobbing in the water, knowing that soon he would lose the strength to stay afloat. She continued to wave her hands frantically at the cars moving by, hoping for a good Samaritan. He had thought himself invincible and now look where he was – at the mercy of a stranger who may stop too late! She regretted bitterly the decision to join him tonight. She preferred the serenity of a life without mishap.