101 Words

I’m careful. I’m hanging off the idol’s head. Elbow deep in one eye socket, prying the stone from the other. The second perfectly polished, stunningly expensive, massive precious stone. Fortune! There is a creak, a stone against stone noise and then a pop. It’s in the bag faster than you can say “ancient curse”. That’s when the earthquake strikes. Curses! The floor underneath the idol bucks like someone flapping a carpet. I jump clear of the toppling megalithic man just in time. Safe! There is a deep, throaty, grinding noise and shouting. Cultists! Rumbled and caught. It’s the pot for me.

The sun shines down on my face as we lie on the beach together. We hold hands and all life’s troubles are behind us. She is so beautiful; hair golden and piercing green eyes. She tries to speak but nothing comes out. She melts in front of me and I know it’s wrong. I remove my jack and remember it was a tainted memory. My place is filthy; my heart empty. I know I need to fix the memory jack but I am out of money. I take a long breath and plug back in. I need her so very much.

Jonny leaned with his back against the wall. He stared upwards through the grates and into the world he would never live in. It was raining and he could see the surface dwellers with their fancy jackets and plaid umbrellas swiftly walking to their destinations. Down here, Jonny waited for something, anything to drop. He saw someone peering down; a pretty girl wiggled a finger through the metal opening at him. She slid down a sandwich and put her finger to her mouth in a shushing motion. Her mother pulled her along with a look of disgust. It was tuna salad.

“Everyone, listen up!” the instructor called out, dropping her gym bag with a clank. The chatter ceased and all eyes were fixed on her.

“You’re all here cos you can’t dance but you want to learn quickly, right?” The students nodded.

“Well, you’ve enrolled in this Rapid Fire Dancing Class so that’s a start. By the end of this session, you’ll all be able to move like you’ve never thought possible.” They answered with raised eyebrows and snickers.

The instructor then reached into her bag, whipped out a sub-machine gun and unloaded it near their feet. “C’mon, you losers, start dancing!”

I write on my wall. It is a habit of mine. I write the things I wish, the things I love, the things I wish I could love. I want to invite her to my bedroom one day. Not to get her into my bed, but so she can see my wall. So she can read my feelings. So that I don’t have to say them out loud. I’m hoping she understands. The right girl will help me repaint that wall. Because if she really is the right one, then all the wishes came true, and we can start new ones.

After a moment of silence, Feliona slowly began to wake up. As her eyes started to regain focus, all she could see is a vast, white emptiness. While floating in place with her arms outreached, palms facing up, Feliona blankly stares at her hands before examining the rest of her body. With each pulse her heart started to race faster, and then a warm, soothing sensation rushed through her body from head to toe. Flashbacks of Feliona’s lover, Aurelia, started to flood her head. Then as quickly as the images of the women and her life appeared, visions of death came.

It was the calm before the storm. He was unusually quiet and relaxed the whole day leading up to the fight. Everyone’s thoughts were “He’s not ready. He’s not focused.”

DING! The fight began. It was a strong first round and a mediocre second. The crowd had thought for sure he had wasted everything he had in the first and he was sure to fail in the third. Finally it had come down to a decision. The referee raised his hand. He was the victor. His calm appearance wasn’t that of him not being ready, but of him actually being ready.