It wasn’t his ideal choice of job, but Jim had been desperate. He didn’t really understand why the clown outfit was necessary, or the balloons which sent him off balance.
All he’d been asked to do was stand on the hillside and wave.
TRACTION BEAM ZONING IN… LOCKING ON…. AND ENERGIZE!
– Thank you Mr. Attenborough, we really couldn’t have completed our collection without you.
– Ms Thunberg, it’s been a privilege to meet you. In my long career, I’ve had many fascinating experiences, but I never expected to meet someone from the future. I’m humbled that you singled me out.
– You were the obvious candidate. You’re certain we haven’t missed any of the 21st century earth species?
– You have a pair of every living species for your trans-space-time settlement.
– Excellent.
– You will be returning to us won’t you, Ms Thunberg?
– In the blink of an eye. Remember, I can be in two places at once.
– Ah yes, you explained: quantum superposition; only a theory in the 21st century.
– You will keep my little secret?
– Of course. Although perhaps I might be permitted to share it with Brian Cox?
Nobody remembers our world before the Water Wars and the Mass Migrations; before we lived encapsulated, drinking endlessly recycled water, harvesting lab-grown meat and veg.
Ancient archives show protests, marches, passionate appeals. Ultimately ignored.
If only we could warn them.
But would the fat-cat industrialists and their puppet politicians listen?
He was the last of his kind. Wearily he lay down,
waiting for the end.
He’d sensed it coming.
The heavens darkened, flames filled the sky. The celestial destructor bore down upon his Mother Earth.
Would she survive?
Would others come after? No answer came. His body crisped to dust.
This wonderful piece of artwork was posted by Jason H. Abbott last week, as part of his science fiction art series. This was what I was moved to write.
The Foremost Developer had taken the bait: 100 acres of rain-forest, ripe for replanting with oil palms. He rubbed his hands. His bulldozers were ready. But this time Gaia had been awakened; she too was ready for destruction. This time the earth would revolt. It would not be the last.
Small, brown-clad, zip-lining across the city skyline, the bird-like acrobat would alight on the tiniest ledge. Clip on, push off, hurtling through the topmost branches of the urban jungle. But tempted, the bird became a cat, a peeping tom. His wings were clipped and now TheSparrow flies no more.
The restaurant was closed the following day and I was leaving that afternoon. What potent ingredient had been in the aperitif which caused the world to change before my eyes?
A seemingly innocuous ruby concoction which rendered people’s reflections invisible and gave me a voracious appetite for the steak tartare.
50 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Genre Writing Challenge. I’m not quite sure that I pulled it off, but it’s just a bit of fun!
Based on a strange evening I once had in Seville. I’ll tell you about it sometime.
He was dressed in an orangutan suit. It must have been itchy as he scratched himself rather a lot. Or perhaps it was part of his act. We thought it was just a prank, but then we discovered he was an undercover insurance agent, tracking a gang of kleptomaniac chimpanzees.