Satire
The Vending Machine. Top Story - July 2024.
This novella is inspired by a 1972 short comedy film The Vending Machine written and directed by John Ewing. Mr.Ewing was a long-time director (40+ years) of the Cinematheque movie theater of the Cleveland Institute of Art.
By Lana V Lynx2 years ago in Fiction
Not Eternal Love
Elena traced the worn leather of the worn armchair, a familiar sigh escaping her lips. Rain lashed against the windowpanes, mimicking the rhythm of her restless heart. Outside, the world was a blur of grey, mirroring the dull ache that had settled in her chest since Liam's departure.
By Moharif Yulianto2 years ago in Fiction
Esprit de Machina
People call me Care, if you can believe it. Short for Carol. There have been plenty of men who have been given the name Carol, and I've never had any kind of problem with it. But people can be uncomfortable using a woman's name when talking to a man, so they shorten it. Or, to be precise--and precision is a must in my industry--they are sometimes uncomfortable using a name that they perceive to be a woman's name, even if, as in my case, that person is a man. So they call me Care.
By Jason Edwards2 years ago in Fiction
192 Your Daily Heuroscope
URANUS RULES TODAY'S HEUROSCOPE FOR THE FOLLOWING SIGNS Dicks: In the handicapped bathroom stall you will piss the toilet seat and leave the toilet unflushed. You'll offer solace to the wheelchaired man by explaining it's how you found it.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
The Vending Machine - 3
Ashton didn’t drink the “solve global warming” Coke for three days. He knew that procrastination was probably not the best approach, but he just couldn’t bring himself to drink it and set off another calamity. In his head, he was running all possible scenarios of what could go wrong with this option, as he now knew that the machine would somehow pervert everything. So he held off. In these three days, the world was engulfed in an unprecedented heat wave bringing the wildfires, drought killing all the crops, and torturing people with heat exhaustion. Ashton had the dreams of flying Coke again, telling him “You must drink it.”
By Lana V Lynx2 years ago in Fiction
Absent Resident
Emilio ran through the French doors and scanned the empty garden. Joseph had gone. How could they let this happen? Normally the night staff were very careful to ensure the outside doors were locked. The Rosa Salva retirement community guaranteed that a family's elders would be safe and well looked after here. But this morning, the door was open and the room was empty.
By Addison Alder2 years ago in Fiction
The Vending Machine - 2
Next morning, the global news was buzzing with the coverage of the Atlantis and the mostly finished housing. No one seemed to know how this new development was built there and why. News reports had not a single mentioning of the homeless solution disaster.
By Lana V Lynx2 years ago in Fiction
The Needle and Thread of Life
The Needle and Thread of Life: Weaving Tales of Love, Hope, and Resilience In the intricate tapestry of life, the humble needle and thread are more than just mere tools - they are the unsung heroes that stitch together our joys, sorrows, and dreams. With every delicate stitch, they weave a narrative of love, hope, and resilience that transcends time and space. Like the gentle touch of a mother's hand, the needle guides the thread through the fabric of our existence, creating a masterpiece of memories that warm our hearts and souls. Every stitch represents a moment, a feeling, a triumph, or a tribulation - each one a testament to the human spirit's capacity to endure and thrive. As the thread weaves in and out of the fabric, it forms an intricate pattern of experiences that shape us into who we are today. The needle's gentle dance is a metaphor for life's journey, where every step, every decision, and every encounter leaves an indelible mark on our being. With each stitch, we weave a tale of love - love for ourselves, for others, and for the world around us. We stitch together moments of laughter, tears, and triumphs, creating a quilt of memories that warm our hearts and souls. The needle and thread also symbolize hope - hope for a brighter tomorrow, hope for a better life, and hope for a world where love and kindness prevail. They remind us that every ending marks a new beginning, every tear can be mended, and every heart can be healed. In the hands of a skilled artisan, the needle and thread become instruments of transformation, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. They remind us that our lives are a canvas waiting to be filled with purpose, passion, and creativity. As we navigate life's journey, the needle and thread teach us the value of resilience - the ability to weather life's storms, to mend our tears, and to emerge stronger and wiser. They show us that every experience, no matter how painful or challenging, is an opportunity to grow, to learn, and to become the best version of ourselves. In the silence of the night, when the world is still and quiet, the needle and thread whisper secrets of the past, reminding us of the love, hope, and resilience that have brought us to where we are today. They remind us that our stories are worth telling, that our lives are worth living, and that every moment is worth cherishing. And so, we continue to weave our tales, stitch by stitch, thread by thread, creating a tapestry of life that is both beautiful and meaningful. For in the end, it is the needle and thread that remind us of the power of love, hope, and resilience - and the beauty of the human spirit.
By Swathika Swathi2 years ago in Fiction
