100-Word Fiction: ‘Kepler 2’

I am still out there, spinning. I don’t want to shackle the sun. That desire is gone. But gravitational pull is good and every day needs lit, surely. There are smaller stars: brighter clusters of light with common origins and achievable distances. I have spotted them in the ecliptic plane. I had never seen them before. Of course what people say I want is for some planetary object to orbit around me. Me! It’s what everyone wants, isn’t it? Those interstellar gyroscopic reaction wheels. Those star forming regions of space. They just keep on pulling and pushing, creating and destroying.

100-Word Fiction: ‘A Week In the Sun’

Sunshine. I could cry when I think about it. In January, when the rain teems down and those mornings are so dark, I want sunshine, no less.

Have you got any holidays planned? asks a colleague.

To know that you deserve a break, a week or two in the sun. How long to go?

Maybe even a winter break for some immediate warmth. A poolside and palm trees, southern Med, with a distant call to prayer. Locals in the streets – and a Frenchman, taking photos, killed by a canister of teargas. More than 100 dead. They call it ‘unrest’. Tears.

100-Word Fiction: ‘Petrified’

When the morning sun can no longer cast its light on the words of the people, and the words of the people are everywhere like an impotent virus, and the virus is dying in a Petri dish, and the scientists stand over and silently stare, and the lab technicians are just marketing geeks, and the geeks report to the politicians, and the politicians report to the multinationals, and the multinationals manufacture Petri dishes, and the Petri dishes are prisons, and the prisons jail vocabulary, and the people don’t want to know, and no one even looks at the morning sun.

100-word fiction: ’34 Years’

The radio said the missile tests were a direct threat. There was rhetoric too: the nations of the free world would not stand idly by. In the street, a man shouted to neighbours that the sunshine was set to last. A couple were watering the pot plants in their garden. They’d now been married for 34 years. It was hot on their wedding day too – and on the day they met. Her blue dress with the pink flowers, her hair up like she used to have it and her eyes bright and dazzling: the most beautiful girl in the world.