Do You Want to Know the Future?

Do You Want to Know the Future?.jpg

Today was Saturday, so he had all the day to do whatever he wanted. A fair was in town, so he stopped by it. He went alone. His friends were rather boring and only wanted to stay home and play video games.

He’s walking around, looking. People throwing stuff at tin cans to win stuffed animals. Music from loudspeakers, music from carousels, all mixed in a symphony of noise. Children everywhere, parents trying to keep track of them. Colours. Lights.

An old gypsy-woman comes walking up to him.

Do you want to know the future? Her eyes are glaring. He doesn’t want to know the future, and he definitely does not believe she could tell him. Here! A gift! He doesn’t want the gift, either. Usually they want something in return in his experience. He backs away. She grabs his hand and puts something in it. Be careful!

She disappears into the crowd.

He stood there, looking for her. She was gone. In his hand he held a crystal ball. Round and beautiful, the size of a big marble. It had small facets, plain surfaces, all the same size and form. Inside he could see something move, like if it had life. He peered closer.

He sees himself. He’s running down a slope. He has the same clothes he’s wearing right now. He falls, stays on the ground holding his hands on his leg. It seems to be broken.

This was either some kind of joke, or he just saw the future. He didn’t want that future, but the crystal ball was awesome.

He left the carnival. It had been fun for a while, but now he was tired. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get back to where he was living.

He started walking down the slope towards town, when he realized it was the slope from the vision. The slope he’d seen himself run down, where he’d fall and break his leg.

Haha! I’ve outsmarted you this time, future! He takes another way, crossing the big national road. He’s halfway across when he hears a loud low-frequence motor humming accompanied with a deep beeping sound. He turns. He sees a trailer coming at him at high speed. It’s the last thing he ever sees.

The crystal ball flew out of his hand and landed unharmed in the grass on the other side.

https://10000hoursleft.wordpress.com/2015/05/22/timeline/

https://mindfump.com/2017/03/15/62-oops-turned-into-nostradamus-2/

The End of Days

Dystopia Pt 3/3

Dystopia Pt3

First part. Second part.

The park was as beautiful as always. Kids playing, adults chatting. Life had become so easy. Tanya was sitting on the bench watching actors doing a play. Real art, art created for the art itself, not to survive, not to make money. Her teddy was lying on the bench beside her. She was laughing, applauding.

….

Malak got up between the assembly lines. Gunshots. He ran, stepping on toys and things going down the line. Drones were coming after him. At the end of the line there was an opening. He could see the dark sky. He ran towards the edge.

In a distance he could see the cotton fields. Where there once had been people living, cultivating food for their families, now there was cotton as far as the eye could see. Enormous machines were harvesting. Any living creature entering would be killed.

Far underneath he saw robots working. Transport vehicles going out through the highly guarded gate. The fall was too high. He turned, wanting to run back, but the drones were coming. A machine gun pointed right at him.

He fell over the edge.

….

I forgot my teddy bear!

We can’t go back now, there’s no time. Grandma’s waiting.

But I really liked him…

Don’t worry, sweetheart. We can always buy you a new one.

…..

Mika’s mother was standing by her kitchen. Tears were running down her cheeks. If the poor child wasn’t back by now, he probably wouldn’t be. How could she send a child on such a dangerous mission? Regrets. Shame. She heard the hatch open.

Malak. He had fallen in the transport vehicle, the toys had reduced his fall. The drones had not been able to detect him underneath them. He had scratches and wounds all over, and his clothes were even worse than when he left, but he was whole and alive.

He had a metal lever in one hand, the broken piece to the electricity generator. In the other he held a teddy bear.

A brown one with a red band around it’s neck.

http://www.globalissues.org/issue/235/consumption-and-consumerism

https://www.becomingminimalist.com/escaping-excessive-consumerism/

http://verdant.net/society.htm

Dystopia Pt 2/3

Dystopia Pt2.jpg

First part of the story can be found here.

Malak went over the field. It was dark, but the dry sand did not give much shelter. He got closer. There was a hole in the fence. He went through it.

A killer robot came by. In a distance he could see the flying ones. He was more scared of the walker, even though the flying ones were usually more dangerous. They moved almost like humans.

He got closer to the big factory building. He moved close to the ground so the robots would not see him. Some had lights in front, they were the easy ones to avoid. Others could see in the dark. He got in where the cotton entered the building. He jumped onto the assembly line and let himself be pulled in.

….

All the presents was lying in a big pile in her room. She had so many things she didn’t even have room for them any more. That’s the way life should be, as far as she knew.

Today she was going to the park with her mum and dad. They did that a lot. People mostly did what they wanted, no one hardly worked any more. There was no need.

She brought her little teddy, her new favourite toy.

….

Knives cutting the cotton. They were getting closer. Fast. He crawled the opposite way on the band, but not fast enough. A gap on one side, passing by, just for a moment. He jumped in.

He came out under the lines. There were robots everywhere. Some seemed harmless, working, moving things. Others he knew from before. He moved under the lines until he found the machine Mika’s mother had told him about.

He started screwing off the screws. Removed a plate on the side. There it was, the piece she had shown him. He got it out. The machines stopped.

Alarm. He hurried towards the hole he’d come in from. A robot blocking his way. Two drones were moving in under the assembly lines.

To be concluded tomorrow.

https://www.theguardian.com/sustainable-business/2016/feb/24/automation-end-work-obsessed-society-dystopia-jobs

https://youmethepostapocalypse.wordpress.com/2017/05/18/earth-2100/

Dystopia Pt 1/3

Dystopia pt.1

Today was Tanya’s birthday. The last of the many gifts was a teddy bear. A brown one, with a red band around it’s neck.

It’s the best present of them all! She said, giving both her parents a big hug.

….

It’s a rat! Said Mika exited. Go ‘round, get it!

Malak jumped over the barrel and stuck his pointed stick down behind it. Got it! Proud he held the rat in the air. It was still shaking.

Malak and Mika hadn’t seen the world before the automation. Before the great war. They said people worked in the factories and on the fields back then. People were needed. Now things was changed.

They said there were other lands far away, on the other side of huge walls and on the other side of the sea. Lands where they used the things made in the factories, ate the food grown in the fields. Here there was nothing. The fields were closed in by electric fences. The factories guarded by robots and drones. The owners no longer needed even to step on their soil. Everything was done by machines.

They heard a sound. A metallic sound nearby.

Shhhh! Said Malak. Get down. They lay on the ground. A robot was passing by. It walked on two legs, had guns for arms. Grenade launchers. A killing machine, hunting humans. Malak had seen them before, many times. He would never forget the day they eradicated his family.

Humans in the third world were considered pests. They were in the way of production.

The robot passed them. They were safe for now, relatively speaking.

They got back home. They opened the little hatch to get into the underground tunnels they lived in. Sewers, they were once called. Now they were homes. Mika’s mother was waiting.

Look, we caught a rat!

Thank God, she said. One rat weren’t much food, but at least it was a big one. She started the electric oven. Lights went out.

Not again… She said, and got a torch. She went through a door and down a hallway. She came back with a dark look on her face.

A piece of the generator is broken. Your father got into the factory and stole it, but it was a lot less guarded back then. Now it’s even more difficult than when he… She stopped. Mika concentrated of keeping back his tears.

I’ll go, said Malak.

You..? You can’t, it’s too dangerous. You’re just a child.

You’re so nice to me. I want to help. And I know how to get into the factory.

Mika’s mother said nothing, just looked at the little boy who had arrived so suddenly. He had survived against all odds.

Besides, I’m not as clumsy as you grown ups! He laughed. She didn’t, but it was settled. Malak would go into the factory. Without electricity they would be doomed.

….

Goodnight little princess. I hope your new teddy bear gives you sweet dreams.

He will for sure! I love him. He’s the best present ever.

 

To be continued tomorrow.

https://www.neondystopia.com/cyberpunk-politics-philosophy/automation-and-the-prospects-of-anti-tech-politics/

https://utopiaordystopia.com/tag/automation-and-trump-voters/

The End of Days

Do You Think I Look Fantastic?

A fresh and promising blog for us fans of the dark. Check it out. The illustrations are original, too.

Featured Image -- 3698

Edgar Arron Poe

The early hours of the morning aren’t a time that you want to be getting ready for a funeral. I had only just woken up, and my miserable husband was already rushing me on, so he could see his sister’s dead body. He didn’t even want to be at the event. I, on the other hand, was looking forward to spending time with the family members that you only ever see when somebody has passed away, but I needed to make sure that I looked my worst for all of the people that were attending the best day of his sister’s life.

“Stop taking so long to put on your face,” my husband screamed from the bottom of the stairs. “I know those new cosmetics that I bought you are fantastic, but I really want to get out the house.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I replied, knowing that…

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Ghost Train

Night Train.jpg

Jaques was sitting in the cockpit of the train looking forward. It was late night, and he couldn’t wait to get home. Find a good movie online, and just relax until he fell asleep.

Something strange could be seen in the distance. He stood up. At first he didn’t believe it, these things shouldn’t happen. But it was. Something was coming towards them on the tracks. Another train. It had no lights. He knew it was already too late.

Marie and Jerome had gotten a first class ticket. There was good food, and the seats was comfortable. They were sitting in front of each other. Jerome had gotten the better seat, the one facing the way they were going. An elderly lady was sitting beside him.

Finally! Said Jerome. I needed to get away now.

Me too, smiled Marie. This is going to be the best vacation ever!

Sure is. I love going on trains as well. Such a relaxing and safe way of travelling.

It’s not always safe, said the old woman. Jerome turned towards her. He had to concentrate not to laugh. Strange thing to say out of nowhere.

Why do you say that?

There was an accident here on this track many, many years ago. Said the old woman

Really? Answered Marie, ignoring the ridiculing look Jerome sent her.

Well, they say it wasn’t even an accident. She added.

What happened?

Two trains went opposite directions on the same tracks. They say it was an insurance scam. That the company did it on purpose, and they got away with it, too. Lots of people died.

That’s horrib….

Jerome fell forward. Marie’s food went flying. Suitcases were falling down from the luggage shelves.

Jaques was lying on the brake lever. Trains take a long time to stop. He was sure he was going to die.

Impact.

A man was throwing coal into an oven. His body was strange, like if they were crushed, ripped to pieces and put together again.

Time seemed to stop when Jerome was mid-air. Everything was changed. The wagon. The people. The furniture was older, the seats had leather cover. The walls were made of wood. A man and a woman were sitting in front of him where his girlfriend just had been. The man had a top hat on his head. His head was crushed, skin floating in the airs as textile under water. Bones sticking out. He was smiling. The woman by his side had a white dress. On some parts. One of her thighs could be seen. It was just a bone, broken into pieces.It was a horrible sight.

Reality came back. Like when you get your head out of the silence of the water. Jerome crashed into the seat in front. Marie’s food splashed out on her dress. The woman beside them fell on the floor. She screamed. Her arm was in a strange position, broken.

The train had stopped. Jerome looked over to the rest of the passengers. They were all as confused as him. The lady with the broken arm was moaning. Jerome was helping her up in her seat.

The driver came half falling into the wagon.

Did you see the…? He stopped. Their faces were as white as his. They’d all seen it.

Silence.

I guess we’ll have to get going, Jaques said after a while and went back into the locomotive. The train started slowly. Soon they were going again. No one spoke the rest of the journey.

http://www.everywritersresource.com/shortstories/ghost-train-by-grey-harlowe/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_train_(folklore)

His Grandpa’s Cabin

Like a Drop in the Sea

Like Drops in the Sea.jpg

He was hanging from the tap he had been born out of. Hanging. Hanging. All he ever did was hanging. He liked hanging. He was made for hanging, and he never would stop hanging. He thought.

Underneath him there was… A surface. It seemed to be of the same substance as him, only bigger. So much bigger it seemed to follow other rules. Other ways. He could not imagine this big surface hanging like he did.

He was scared of the surface, but at the same time it intrigued him. He felt an urge to join it. To explore it. What was the Surface? Why was it there? Where did it come from?

He fell. Fell towards the Surface. He met it. Felt an impact. There was something underneath the surface. More of him. There was no longer him and the surface, it was only him. He was the surface, and the surface was him.

Some day he would be part of other drops like the one he was before. He would be steam, he would be ice. Some day he’d be part of the sea.

https://twovoicesinonetransmission.com/2017/04/29/cyanide-soup-for-the-soul/

http://www.mindbodynetwork.com/article/the-number-of-minds-in-the-universe-is-one

Beyond Faith and Reason

 

 

Liquid Ink

liquid ink

After her father died things had gotten worse. Her mother never let her out. Ever. She didn’t go to school. She didn’t have friends. Most of the time she was locked up in her room, like now. Her mother would unlock the door when she needed her.

Her only pleasure was to draw. To paint. The Ink. She wet the paper, as she always did. The contours of a tower took form in the glistening water. She dipped the brush in the ink bottle, took it down on the paper, moving it under the roof and down one wall where the darker areas would be. Then she let the ink flow.

She loved how it moved. It was like it had a life on it’s own, like if she was the spectator. It was magic. The tower came to life.

A girl appeared in the window. She hadn’t even planned for that. A face took form. It was her face. It was her.

Dark shadows floated around her. On the desk. In the air. It stained the walls. The ceiling.

She was sitting by a desk in a room of stone walls. There was nothing else in the room but an old chest. She was gone.

She heard someone crying. A weep of deep, bottomless sorrow, a cry of loss of loved ones and despair. The door was open.

There was a steep, winding stone staircase going down.

It was dark. She walked slowly, following the sound. She saw light coming out from under a door further down. She heard voices. Noises. Someone shouting. She knew that voice. Her mother. She couldn’t tell the words, but knew to whom ever she was shouting at, the words would be hurtful. She passed the door, down the dark staircase.

She kept following the stairs. Another door. This one was open. She saw her father, dead on the bed. Her mother standing besides him with a knife in her hand. Her back towards her. She turned. Looked right at her. She closed the door and ran.

On the bottom of the stairs there was darkness. She heard the crying clearly now. It was her father. She moved slowly, carefully. So much pain. So much sorrow.

Father? She said. Is that you?

Her eyes were adapting. Her father was sitting on the floor. Someone was lying beside him.

Why didn’t you leave, he said. Sadness. Despair.

A light came on. A small flame in an alcohol lamp. She saw herself lying there. She held a rose in her hands. Her throat was cut.

You have to go. Now! His back still towards her.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t move.

He turned. His face was twisted. Tortured.

Run!!! He screamed. She turned. Her mother was there. Floating, like liquid. Changing form. Dark, grey and black forms of evil. Laughing. The forms filled the room.

She ran. She ran down a long hall. The walls were changing. Twisting. She could hear her mother’s evil laughter. Behind her, in front of her. Everywhere. A light. She ran towards it. Another door. It was closing. She threw herself at it.

She fell into the daylight. Turned around, fast, as to defend herself. She saw their house. She was back in the real world, in their yard. The shadows were gone.

Jane? Her mother’s voice from inside the house, upstairs.. She was angry. Jane, where are? I told you to stay in your room! How did you get out, anyway?

She got up and ran without looking back. She never returned.

http://www.kongregate.com/games/TheGameKitchen/the-last-door-chapter-1-the-letter

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink

Domestic Violence

Nightmares of Cambodia

Nightmares of Cambodia.jpg

They had been chased out of the city. His father was dead. His brother. Even his little sister they had killed. Now it was just him and his mother. Slaves in the countryside. The Khmer Rouge had taken advantage of the American bombs and the fear of an external enemy far more powerful. Now they were in control.

He had to go out in the early morning, before light broke. The guards were tired after a long night, less attentive. If he was not back before sunrise they would kill them both.

Please, don’t, it’s too dangerous! His mother had begged him. She was asleep when he left. The hunger made him. He passed the guarded zone, but the forest was even worse. Landmines. There were landmines everywhere.

The night was dark. No stars. No moon. Just darkness. That was good, he was more difficult to see. Mushrooms. He picked one up. Poisonous. He dropped it and moved on. Something moved. A spider. He went closer. It was not big enough to fill his stomach, but it would be a mouthful for his mother. He had to be careful. Kill it before it bit him.

He saw a glow in a distance. A greenish glow in the darkness. It couldn’t be. It mustn’t be. He crouched. The glow came closer. He saw a face. It was. A beautiful woman’s face, but she had no body. A head hovering in the air. Her heart was hanging down underneath her. Ahp. Krasue, as his grandfather had called her. She was even more terrifying than the guards. More dangerous than bombs. More horrible than landmines.

He he threw himself down. She moved closer. A moan of suffering escaped her mouth as she passed right above him. Long. Deep. She was searching for blood.

She stopped, as if she was listening. Searching.  He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breath. He could see the green light on his hands in front of him. The moment lasted forever. She disappeared into the darkness.

He lay there for a long time. She could be back. She could be waiting. Light. Daybreak. He got up. Looking around, unsure if she was still there. He ran. He saw guards in the distance. He moved from bush to bush, crouching, creeping. His mother was still sleeping when he entered the hut. She would be hungry today as well. He had made it back, but he was not safe. They never were.

https://sites.google.com/site/thesecretbombingofcambodia/rise-of-the-khmer-rouge-and-pol-pot

https://creature373.wordpress.com/2016/09/08/origin/

Tears of Blood

Fiction: ‘The Starlight Princess and the Lightning Prince’

This is one of the most beautiful pieces of flash fiction I’ve ever read.

Writing on Tangents

40 - The Starlight Princess and the Lightning Prince Image Source: http://bit.ly/2qHRA2e

Once upon a time, a beautiful star fell in love with a flash of lightning.

She was twinkling merrily in the sky, watching over the world from her position in the constellations, when a brilliant flash lit up the darkness. He was brighter than any star she had ever seen. The electricity in the air rushed around her. It lit a spark within her heart and left her tingling with a strange new energy she had never felt before.

Her mother, the Moon, frowned when her daughter told her about this prince.

‘You are sweet and faithful. Each night you return to your place in the sky, watching over the world with love and patience. But he is not constant,’ she warned. ‘He comes and goes as he pleases. He’s unpredictable and impulsive. He’s not a reliable prince.’

But the princess didn’t listen.

Every night she watched…

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