By Claire L. Marsh
Turning three-hundred and sixty degrees, anti-clockwise, click, Lysternia detached one foot, then the other. Aged twelve, her contractures had worsened, forced her onto tiptoes. She’d ordered replacements the correct size, age, and skin tone; they’d slotted in easily. A future gymnast required balance.
At sixteen, weakness in her calves stopped her from running. Lysternia replaced them. A future reporter chased leads.
At thirty, Lysternia’s trunk and head were original; the rest were mail-ordered. Different manufacturers and technical specifications made collaboration awkward. Strong winds or sudden movements and bits fell off. A fast-food waitress needed her shit to hold together.
I enjoyed this little sci-fi, especially the last line!
Excellent. Love the down to earth ending – refreshing for a sci-fi story. Works perfectly.
Great story Claire liked the ending especially x
I love the sc-fi feel of this story.
Well done. I’m curious about her name. I wouldn’t mind a few replacement body parts myself.
Excellent. Sci-fi yes, but all about broken dreams as meaningful in the present day.
This is amazing, so entertaining, a relatable Sci-Fi life drama. Love the name, it’s such a close one to the Lysteria bacterium 🙂