Tag Archives: dystopian

Friday Fictioneers – Safety In Numbers

ff210916From the shadows at the top of the staircase I could see the fireworks reflecting in the lens of her black spectacles, almost smell the starch on her featureless, grey uniform.

Liberation Day’ they hailed it. Liberated from the now elitist burdens of freedom, choice and democracy.

My sister was too young to understand as they looked out over the city together. But I knew what our mother had done – what all those of newly acquired status had done. It was in that moment that our future fates were formally and fatally entwined: I would have to kill her.

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challen

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Trifecta 103 – Bloodline

dystopiaMy mother was important. We knew that even as children – although we didn’t understand why. Each morning a silver car would come to collect her from our house in the hills overlooking the smog strangled city. Outside, the street would be deserted. Two other cars – black – parked a respectful, but appropriate distance away. Nobody else was allowed on the street when mother was leaving for work.

My sister and I would be waiting for her to leave. Always the same sterile, crisp, blue trouser suit, the flat shoes, the black briefcase bearing the party emblem. A kiss for the children. A cold nod towards our father.

“Remember who you are children. Remember who we are,” she would tell us.

Who were we?

All I knew was that the four of us lived in sprawling mansion filled with servants and snivelling nameless officials. While most of the city was overrun with poverty and resentment, ours was a life of obscene luxury. However, we didn’t complain. You don’t when you’re a child.

As we grew older we began to understand more about who we were; who our mother was.

***

Mother and I slowly grew apart. This was dangerous, but I survived. Her conceited grand plan and their utopian ideals eventually failed miserably. People starved. With what strength they had left they fought back.

They won.

As the city burned, party flags lay smouldering in the gutters; their headquarters were ransacked – people swarmed like ants over corridors and offices once only visited in handcuffed terror.

As we entered the last room on the third floor my second handed me the loaded pistol. The woman in the chair had her back to us. Even so she appeared unnerved and impassive, despite the chaos all around. Her perfect society in ruins; her family scattered.

“Is that you son?”

“Yes mother.”

“Do you remember who we were?”

“Yes I do mother.”

As the bullet echoed around the room a new leader was crowned.

trifecta

These 333 words, based on the third definition of the word ‘remember’ , form my entry into the Trifecta 103 writing challenge. The picture is courtesy of Open Road Integrated Media

Friday Fictioneers – Objects Of Amusement

ff231013The people had been queuing since first light. The sun was now high above; beads of sweat dripped down already flushed faces. However, they’d wait.

Of course, everybody had seen the ancient artefacts before – many times. The City though liked to remind. To reaffirm.

An artist’s easel, a rusting typewriter, a broken piano, a ripped and faded book

‘Did we really once need these things?’ a thousand voices would sneer in obsequious unison.

As the crowds drifted back to the suburbs the people of the City would once again take pride in how much better things were these days.The City wouldn’t expect – or accept – any other reaction.

friday-fictioneers

This is my entry into this week’s 100 word challenge over at Friday Fictioneers.