I was too old fashioned but I didn’t care. I liked typing my food and restaurant reviews on an 1950’s typewriter. Kept in good order, cleaned and ink ribbon changed as needed, the ‘old tech’ had lasted longer then any computer device I’d had throughout the years.
It was satisfying to press down hard on each key and hear the clonking noise. There was the mechanical rhythm of continual typing and the ding bell at the end. I loved sliding the feeder roll back and hearing that click into place again.
Tank looked up at the statue of a sliver car with the words ‘Rock Rogers’ scrawled across the side whilst his breathing echoed in the protection filter mask.
The earth’s ground air was too poison to breath and the humans that had survived through the V-Plague of the late twenty-first century now lived underground and the sky. Tank and his crew came from one of the sky communities and their mission today was only a close visualisation one.
‘They worshipped some strange Gods in the past,’ Tank muttered.
It’s always the same; butterflies in the stomach, dryness of tongue and bubbles of excitement. The actors and actresses wait in the wings. The stage hands roam and the orchestra tune their instruments.
The curtain goes up, the stage is light, the players become their characters. A story unfolds like real life; love, lost, mystery, murder and a solved conclusion. The audience absorb everything, caught up in events, forgetting that things are not real.
And afterwards, normality feels surreal and it’s like we are all just characters in a play of life.
Ivan and his friends were repeatedly told not to go near the tumbled down red barn on the edge of Slim’s farm. From a distance, there seemed nothing wrong with the abandoned structure so the teenagers wondered why they had to stay away.
Bored one afternoon, they checked the barn out. Entering, it seemed to be a normal, empty wooden building. So, had some bad secret the villagers wanted to stay hidden happened here?
Messing about, they accidentally triggered something. There was a mighty whooping sound, the barn began to shake then vanished, casting the teenagers into time and space unknown.
Joel knew it was too cold to spend the night in the park but he had nowhere else to go. The homeless shelter and the church were both full. Perhaps, there were other places out there but he was too tried and cold.
Joel cleared snow off a bench and sat down. A little flurry of flakes were falling and he hoped it wouldn’t get heavier. Shivering, he wrapped himself in his sleeping bag and tried to stay warm. Laying down to rest, he tried not to imagine someone finding his frozen body in the morning.
The temptation was too real and I couldn’t help myself. The ice cream melted on my tongue, sending me to a frozen heaven and a land of pleasure. One spoonful wasn’t enough, I needed more, more! Half a tub was gone before I realised.
I looked out of the motorhome window, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The sky was becoming light but the streetlamps were still on. I could hear water in the dock lapping the boats. Birds were singing and a car engine was fading into the distance.
I couldn’t remember arriving, I must have slept through. I got up, dressed and went outside. Cold air bruised my face, I smelt the salt off the water and I felt glad to finally have escaped.