Microfiction
The Silent Alchemist
The Silent Alchemist In the serene town of Luminara, nestled between sprawling emerald fields and a shimmering river, lived an unassuming man named Orin. Luminara was renowned for its tranquility and the harmonious coexistence of its residents, who thrived on agriculture and artisanal crafts. Orin, however, was a peculiar figure in this picturesque town. While others found fulfillment in the conventional, Orin was driven by an insatiable curiosity about the natural world and a fervent desire to unlock its hidden secrets.
By Ahmad Al Amin2 years ago in Fiction
These Days It Was an Everyday Occurrence
Author's preface: See here for story origin and thank you Munson, whoever you are, for the challenge. I had fun with it. The synthetic looked at me with an approximation of sadness that for the barest of moments made me forget I was talking to a cybernetic organism and said "My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." A very strange thing for anyone to say, even a synth, but her model was over three years old now and it was possible her nano-processors were already beginning to fail. Pleasure bots like X3Tina were not designed to last very long, and they typically did not. That might actually be a mercy because most of their owners abused the shit out of them from day one. Perhaps not at all surprisingly the men (98.78% of pleasure bot owners are male), who bought pleasure bots were not the most upstanding of citizens and often had sick proclivities that prevented them from forming healthy attachments to real human females. For them, the bots were nothing more than high priced toys, and they treated them about as well as they treated any other disposable toy they owned. Unfortunately for the synths they were programmed to approximate human emotions, as the ability to display seemingly authentic emotional responses was a highly desirable trait for which desperate men would pay top dollar. This meant they actually 'felt' things, or at least, that is what the pro-synth rights groups were constantly going on an on about to anyone who would listen. These days, the number of those had shrunk to almost zero and synth rights were almost as popular as gasoline powered cars. The synths were also programmed to approximate human intelligence and had the intellectual capabilities of a human six grader. They could read and write and converse reasonably well however like every other machine yet invented by man they could not learn, nor could they adapt or evolve or change. They could only do exactly as their programming dictated. Mostly that programming dictated acting subservient to a collection of human assholes with way too much money and way too little regard for the ethics or morality of owning what is in effect a modern day child sex slave.
By Everyday Junglist2 years ago in Fiction
148 Carousel
Each child had a favorite carousel horse. The happiness on their faces accrued, adding mass to the universe where everything mattered. The irony is that I passed the carousel every day, unaware of the sheer joy that up-and-down and centrifugal torque mustered for those unused to a pretense of speed unencumbered by seatbelts and windows and behaving.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Eternal Love Letter.
My Dearest Love, From the second our eyes met across that packed room, a flash touched off inside me that I knew would redirect my life until the end of time. Maybe the universe had plotted for us to be in that precise spot at that definite second. I recall how the world appeared to blur out of spotlight, leaving just you and me in sharp concentration. Your eyes, glimmering with a glow I had never seen, attracted me like a magnet, and I was defenseless however to follow their call.
By borsha afrin302 years ago in Fiction
Convention
I wiped my hands on the fabric of my dress. The shiny, man made fibres were doing very little to absorb the river of sweat pouring from them. The white paper I held was growing increasingly damp and floppy. Why hadn’t I thought to print this on card?
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨2 years ago in Fiction
My Stupid Cat
I shouldn't of done it, but I was mad. Stupid cat. Here's what happened, ok: I caught her sleeping on the back of the sofa and I got an idea. I tiptoed round so so quiet. That's hard you know. And I lay down, real careful, so she wouldn't wake up. I shutted my eyes tight, and I tried to go to sleep. But it wouldn't and it wouldn't and it wouldn't.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
