Well, I promised you a sci-fi short, and here it is. It ended up being too long for flash fiction, though, so I’m posting it in five parts.
I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Image by Chris Samuel
Image by Rusty Clark
As I alluded in my last non-prompt-related post, I recently joined the Church of the Lonely Potato (braise him!).
I was hoping to avoid this, but…I must stop blogging. To follow in the footsteps of the Transcendental Tuber and achieve perfect Loneliness, I must stop writing altogether. Those dedicating their lives to hashbrown hermitude have time for nothing but reclusiveness and root vegetables along the Via Solanum Tuberosum.
Image from Ellen Thompson
“We’re standing in our own graves.”
Jim looked at Harry, at the rivulets of water cutting streaks down his muddy face. He looked at his combat boots, ankle deep in trench sludge mixed with blood. Eighteen days in a standoff. Rations gone. Ammunition dwindling.
Image by Neil McIntosh
I don’t usually go to the parades. It seems in bad taste. They can thank me if they want, but the it’s-what-anyone-would’ve-done shrug is part of the unwritten heroes’ code.
Besides, it’s just awkward.
Ah, the end! Read carefully. The clues are there.
Catch up: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday