This May there have been several #authortubers on Youtube doing prompts. Here are a few of mine.
May
22 Prompt with Sako Tumi– the Box - 40 minutes
Dr.
Dorothy Otot took the lunch box her Aunt Emma prepared for her. Inside was a
10AM snack, 1PM lunch and 4PM snack, her metabolism tended to burn through the
calories she ate and if she didn’t have an alarm on her watch to remind her
when to eat, she would forget and begin losing weight again. The divorced
mother of two was one of the country’s, and the world’s most valuable
researchers in the quest for clean, renewable energy. She was chasing the math
and proving her theories despite the nay-sayers. Many governments and corporate
entities want a piece of the puzzle she was solving. If she succeeded,
everything would change.
“Thanks,
Auntie Em. You little monkeys be good for Auntie while Mommy’s at work making a
better world for you.”
Dorothy
kissed her twins, Leo and Poppy then headed to her lab. She had enough money
from her missing father’s life insurance to buy into a small energy development
thinktank. She waved at the security guard. Her research into a strange alien
relic that seemed to generate its own energy had led to her discovery of the
real possibility of a battery that once charged from the artifact’s strange
power source would recharge itself. She theorized the artifact was tapping into
some ambient background energy of the universe. It wasn’t Heisenberg’s
zero-point energy, it was something else. It was an exciting discovery that she
had presented to her fellow researchers only to be dismissed as a flight of
fantasy, then she had shown them the proof and the math. They were still
arguing about it when she left. After that, every corporation and government in
the world started offering to buy it all.
“Dr.
Otot, that Witchwest Global’s acquisitions department guy called again… They
offered you two hundred million this time.” Dr. Glenda North laughed as she
looked at Dorothy’s deadpan expression.
“Seriously,
Dorothy, take the money before they kill you to get the research.” Dr. Emmit
Brown was her tech guy and looked 100% the mad scientist and he was a paranoid
as they came.
“Witchwest
Global already owns the world’s most advanced water purification methods, which
they share with no one. And half the communication systems of half the planet
and have controlling interest in all the major big pharma and big agra
companies. They make money on potable water, communications, food, and
medicine. They are not getting our clean energy research. You’re the one who
keeps telling me to imagine a world with a zero-pollution power grid.” Dorothy
tipped her head at him and the old man hugged her.
“Just
making sure you aren’t temped by all those zeros,” taunting, Emmit laughed.
“I’m
not. Ms. Witchwest could offer me ten times that and I would say no. This will
mean my twins and your grandkids will live in a world without acid rain and
carbon emissions from production plants, power facilities, and transportation.
They will have free, clean energy. Our Tech will change the world and our
children are not paying a dime to that megalomaniac billionaire for it.” Dorothy
grinned as she proclaimed her noble aspirations. “We will give free energy to
the world and she will have no choice but to share her socially beneficial tech
to get mine or not use it.”
The
dozen people working for Oz Research Incorporated all had the same goal for the
last several decades; to make the world a better place. It had been a
government think tank that was defunded so they became a privately held
company. Then Dr. Otot came to them and all believed with Dorothy’s brilliant
mind would be the key to achieving that goal if they could keep her and her
work safe. She was young enough to be
their granddaughter or in Glenda’s case, great-granddaughter; they had been the
most brilliant minds of their generations and Dorothy was the most brilliant
mind of hers.
“You
make us proud, Dorothy,” Glenda beamed.
Dorothy
bowed in a whimsically way as Dr. Alexander Wizard stepped out of the testing
lab. “I’m glad you’re here. Boxie is back and active again, we are getting a
good charge.”
Dorothy
stepped in the room that held a strange golden box that would appear and disappear
at random. Dorothy had created a way to track its unique energy so they could
find it and retrieve it when it vanished, then she figured out how to anchor it
to the lab by reverse engineering its own tech to make it a landing pad of
sorts. They managed to store the energy and then discovered that the energy was
self-replicating at very small increments as time passed. It was a battery that
would recharge itself simply by sitting on the shelf, they had also discovered
the power cells could not be overcharged, no matter what they did.
Dorothy
walked up to the golden box and attached several clamps to it. “Hello, old
friend. Welcome back.”
The
emerald star that floated above the alien box, turned to face her as if in
greeting. A swirl of rainbow iridescence
shimmered from it.
“I
missed you too.”
“What
do you think is in the box?”
“There’s
no way to open it.” Shrugging, Dorothy rested her hands on the strange box. “Begin
the scans and charging protocol.”
Hours
later, the box vanished in a flash of rainbow light and the cables dropped to
the floor.
“I
wonder if it is raining outside,” Alexander asked and Emmit laughed, “Doesn’t
it always rain when Boxie leaves. It probably hates bad weather like Dorothy.”
“I
only hate tornados and I am sure Boxie shares my feeling. It always leaves
right before the weather comes. Boxie is smart like that.” She tried to sound flippant
and brave but truthfully tornados terrified her. Her father disappeared in a
tornadic storm while she was pregnant, and she missed him. She only remembered
waking up in field near his house unharmed.
“It’s
not an A.I.,” Glenda rolled her eyes. “Stop talking about it like it is alive.”
“But
it could be,” Dorothy giggled, playing the devil’s advocate to Glenda’s stern
look. “It always looks at the person talking. It has some awareness.”
Glenda
shook her head and pointed to the door. “Go check the weather and go home for
dinner, or Emma will yell at me for you missing a meal.”
“Goodnight,”
Dorothy wished them all well and was surprised to open the door to a gust of
violent wind.
The
sky above the valley was churning and black lightning flashed in freakish
inverse like the film negative of a photograph. She was horrified to see an
immense black vortex consuming the town. Dorothy rushed out into the maelstrom.
“Dr.
Otot, get back inside!”
Ignoring
the guard, Dorothy ran for her house. All she could think about was her sons
and auntie. The debris of the Oz Research Incorporated lab flew past her like
confetti. There were winged creatures in the storm. Swooping down, they clung
to her neighbors or dragged them from homes to keep them from seeking shelter
from the maelstrom Dorothy managed to escape the ghoulish winged ape that
grabbed her. Running through the park, trees were crashing down around her or
being twisted and broken off into stumps. Dodging a piece of picket fence, she
collided with a door and flew through the air with it. It slammed her hard onto
the ground and everything flashed emerald green and rainbow iridescent.
Waking
slowly, sunlight beckoned. Crawling out from under the heavy door wedged
between the twisted stumps of two trees, Dorothy stared in horror. The town was
gone, the valley transformed into a lush green meadow. The only debris was in a
two-meter circle around her and the broken trees. Boxie sat on the grass with
its emerald star facing her, Leo and Poppy were asleep on either side of it.
They weren’t in Kansas anymore.
“Boxie?
Where did you bring us?”
“Home,”
Said a voice she hadn’t heard in years.
May 26th – Laurel Webb and Sam Wicker 20 minutes
Prompt 1: The song the stars sing is ancient, cold, and bitter.
The Star People.
Laying on the grass, she
listened to her mother's voice telling her about the star people. Singing the
songs of the ancients about grace and hope. The moon rose with its halo of
silver and twinkling
lights. The warmth on her chest had nothing to do with the light.
"Listen for the song of
the stars, my daughter, and you will always find peace."
It was so long ago. Before the
Coming, before the Cull. Myrna knew the truth now as she bled out listening to the
approaching tread of the angelic beings who killed her. The song the stars sang
was ancient, but also came with a cold and bitter truth.
The
star people were never our friends. They were never our allies. The myths of
the ancient peoples of the world were lies left behind to make future
generations welcome them. They came to harvest us not realizing we had
harvested something from the debris of their ships that crashed; one in
Tunguska, Russia, and one in Roswell, New Mexico. There were WMDs so much worse
than nukes, chemicals, and bioweapons. Our governments used the worst of them
to save us, and it did. We got them, killed them, we won!
We
thought we won… Then the second wave came. Now they are starting over, just
like they did with the dinosaurs. Those clever lizards won against the first
wave too. Now, we are following them
into extinction. They’re almost here. I’m almost out of blood. I wonder who
they will evolve next? I hope they have a better chance than we did. I look at
the stars, so ancient, so distant. I feel cold... I feel bitter... We never had
a chance.
Ally Deathridge May 29 40 minutes
Prompt: There I was just standing
there when what I wanted to do was forbidden
Elements: blue index cards, the last of the tooth paste,
half eaten box of fig newtons
There I was, just standing there when what I wanted to do
was forbidden. The news blasted out the alerts that we were all housebound
again. The last of the toothpaste turning to foam as I brushed my teeth. I spat.
I watched the foamy messed go down the drain as I listened.
“Under the tightening protocols, the federal quarantine
department has announced that all residences and businesses marked with a blue
index card sized notice are considered contaminated zones and should not be
entered under any circumstances. The FQD has…”
While the announcer droned on in an overly serious tone, I
opened my kitchen cabinets. Today was my day to pick up a grocery order, meds
from the pharmacy, and enjoy an hour outside. I had a package of ramen, small
can of beanie weenies, some crackers, and a half-eaten box of fig newtons. I
shrugged into my coat and put on my mask, determined to go out anyway. People
went out all the time during the last five pandemics and I needed my stuff. I
hoped the bodega had coffee this time.
The wind howled between the brownstones and leaves blew in
in spiral dances down the street as I walked the three blocks. When I got to
the pharmacy, the door was unlocked but the store was empty.
“Hello? Mr. Ocampa?” Shaking my head, I pulled what I wanted
off the shelves, including a new box of fig newtons, then climbed over the
counter and got my prescriptions. I scanned my own purchase and paid with a
card. Grateful for the summers spent as his cashier. Walking out, I noticed a
blue index card on the door.
Ignoring it, I went to the grocery. I could hear popping
sounds far away, their rapid staccato sounded like drumsticks on metal. As I
walked, I noticed more blue cards.
I saw a few people ambling
about. The 177th Street Bodega was also empty. As I opened the door,
blue confetti danced across on the floor.
“Mrs. Tran? I’m here for my
order. Hello? It’s Una Year, I came for my order.” I repeated loudly.
No one answered. Shaking my
head, I went into the back and up to the apartment above. No one was home. In
the storeroom behind the main store, the pickup orders were meticulously organized
by address. I noticed my elderly neighbor had an order too. I put them both in
a shopping cart. I grabbed some extra ramen and more toothpaste, then left a
note and started home. Mrs. Tran could just bill my card as she had done since
pandemic three when the infection had spread on paper currency. I worked from
home since the first pandemic so the FQD’s latest lockdown meant nothing to me.
It didn’t matter, I could order anything I wanted from Amazon, but I didn’t
order my groceries from them because my therapist told me to leave my home once
per week. My weekly requirement to get out of the house was met, and I had my
groceries and meds, though I did regret not being able to go to the park today.
Autumn was always my favorite time of year.
I saw no one else as I walked. A
car careened around a corner and sped down the street as I carried my bags in.
As the door closed, I heard a siren and shooting. Peeking out, I watched the
car chase. Shaking my head, I walked upstairs to my flat, then went to my neighbor’s
door. There was a sealed card with my name on it. Opening it, I read her
shaking script.
“Went to see the grandkids
before those paranoid doctors shut down the country again.”
Sighing, I carried her groceries
up to my flat. We were the only two in the building so I would just keep her
nonperishables until she returned. In my flat, I tuned my wireless headphones
to my favorite spotify playlist and began working.
One week later, the news seemed
to be on repeat. I only watched on the day I left the apartment for the
weather. My therapist said I should avoid the news and social media at all
costs because it triggered my anxiety.
Same warning about staying
inside and having no contact with people. Be ware of the blue cards… blah blah
blah.
I wouldn’t go to the pharmacy
again, and the park was out, but I was determined to pick up my groceries.
Going out, it felt much colder than the weather segment said. Again I saw no
one but oddly, I also heard no traffic, no planes, no dogs, or anything. I was
looking up at the leaves when I bumped something with the cart. I saw it, or
rather him. A man… a dead man with his skin turned mottled. Black tears had
leaked from his eyes and dried like cheap makeup. His leg sticking out from the
pile of trash bags on which he fell. His teeth clenched and bared by purple
lips pulled back in a grimace. I had never seen a dead body before. Jumping back,
I sprinted to the 177th Street Bodega as I dialed 9-1-1. No one
answered, just a recording.
“Help me,” I yelped as I stumbled in the door. “Mrs. Tran…
Mr. Tran? Anyone?!”
The Bodega looked exactly as I had left it. It was so
eerie. No one was here either. Panicked, I ran from door to door, begging for
help while listening to the recording telling me, due to heavy call volume,
response would be delayed. No one answered the doors. I was completely alone.
My mind shut down and I went on auto-pilot. Going to the back, I noticed for
the first time the power was out. I could smell the rotting fresh food in the
delivery bags. The only ones missing were the ones I had taken. I vomited in the bin by the desk.
Filling another cart with cans and boxes, I piled the last
of the unspoiled fruits and vegetables on top and was glad the cool temps had
saved them from spoiling. I went home on the opposite side of the street from
the body. Looking up at the solar panels on the roof, I wondered how long the
power had been out. That was when I noticed a blue card on the door. I looked
at it carefully.
“By FQD orders, all residents of New York are to shelter in
place due to exposure. If a member of your family experiences sudden death,
remove the body immediately and place it in a locked room or secured basement.”
Instructions on decontaminating oneself followed.
Going inside I climbed up on the roof and looked toward the
Washington Bridge. There were hundred or thousands of cars stopped. There were
no boats on the river or helicopters in the air. Nothing to show that I wasn’t
completely alone. Inside turned on the tv again. Every four hours, the same
news broadcast repeated. On the internet, I read horrific stories of mass
deaths. The fact that my landlord had taken this house off the grid had staved
off the realization when the city power shut down weeks earlier. In my
anti-media bubble, the one I created to keep my anxiety at bay, I had not known
the world ended.
