When was the last time you felt alive?
When was the last time you felt truly human? When you weren’t doubled up with physical pain or mental rumination? How long has it been since you have felt happy or even merely fulfilled?
Read MoreYou don’t hate your job, it pays the bills,
Protecting you from loss, and unforeseen ills,
Your boss, your co-workers, they are nice enough,
Provided you do the right things and say the right stuff…
Believe it or not, I wrote this story about you. Yes, you. The person reading this right now. True, I don’t know your name, where you were born or what you do for work, but that doesn’t really matter.
I am going to be honest. I like you, the real you that is. The you that exists beyond those small details.
The Priest winced as he got down on to his knees and began to pray. The years of prostration had taken its toll on his old joints, yet he never complained. He recounted the stories, lit the candles and performed the rituals, as was dictated by his tradition.
Battered and torn robes adorned his shoulders, off white in colour. Around his neck sat a golden cross held in place by a thin leather cord that he kept tucked away under his shirt. Soft blue eyes, gentle wrinkle lines and a prominent nose further gave his aging body away.
Read MoreIt turns out that birth and decay are not so different after all.
“So I shat myself again for the fourth time this week. I couldn’t help it. I don’t have the coordination or strength necessary to get myself to the toilet. Not that I could sit on it even if I did, I would likely fall in and drown! This is a world made for giants and I am now so small …“
It's everywhere, intimate and unescapable. It's in your dreams. Ghostly voices whispering into your ear details about the latest in surgical-neuro enhancement and Integration technology. New top of the line cars, the latest celebrity trends and gossip.
How can I be like them?
“With this upgrade of course!”
The Naturals hate the flashing neon lights, it drives them insane. Epileptic seizures and chronic headaches are commonplace for them. Dirty filth, littering the sidewalk, foam bursting and frothing from their mouths. They had a choice, just like the rest of us. Now I have to deal with them and their constant begging. Disgusting.
Read MoreThis day, like the last, will be the same. Arrive at the same time, wear the same clothes, do the same work. The conversations will be the same, the jokes the same, even the ‘unexpected problems’ will be the same. Monotonous repetition. Day in, day out.
If this was a work of fiction, here is where the story would begin to deviate from the norm. An event would occur to start the story rolling. A catalyst would present itself…
Read MoreHow can you say goodbye to a child?
"It wasn’t her death that was upsetting to me. It was the dying. I was glad when it was over. For her sake, and my own.
I know it sounds harsh, but that was five years. Five long years of cleaning up vomit, of late nights and close calls. Five years of broken commitments, false hopes, and missed opportunities..."
A collection of 12 word stories:
"Shamefully, he continued gorging. Attempting to fill the hole in his heart"
"Brief respite, an escape from reality, a new habit begins to form"
"Poop stuck on Rover’s fur! Seriously regretting my decision to adopt him"
A collection of 12 word stories:
"He waved. I smiled. Jessica also smiled. I am invisible to him"
"Never satisfied, he looks for approval in the mirror, lifting weights endlessly"
"My boyfriend broke up with me. Now I'm sad ugly and single"
You need to finish it ...
"You surveyed the scene looking for him. Doubt crept back in. Had you done enough? Was he left in a similar state to you? With knife wounds you can never be certain. Despite the comfort you derived from the old knife fighting adage that, ‘The loser of a knife fight dies on the scene and the winner dies in hospital’. Past experience had taught you otherwise..."
Read MoreYou can only hold out for so long...
“Nothing happened, I swear it. I would never do that, I’m not a monster.”
Despite how cold it was inside the holding pen, Jankov was sweating profusely. The chains around his wrists clinked as he pulled the already soiled handkerchief from his pocket...
How do rituals of the living impact the dying?
Fiction (413) - Zachary Phillips
He knew they were talking to him, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. He only heard glimpses, snippets of conversations recalling years of shared memory, of regrets and now their final goodbyes...
Is it even possible to judge right and wrong?
Fiction (286) - Zachary Phillips
Two men looked at the same event with guarded apprehension. One glanced upwards towards the sky and the other down at a computer monitor...
