Here's a piece of Science-Fiction-Dystopian Micro Fiction. What is Micro Fiction? By my definition, it's any story no longer 500 words, though every writer probably has their own personal word count in the realm of flash fiction.
So sit back, relax, and don't take too long! Enjoy!
Hunger Cycles
Mike is hungry. He walks the streets in silence, but the city speaks to him in the language of flash-buy-flash-consume. The language tells him a new product has been created, a new product he cannot live without. Mike’s stomach grumbles. He steps over a lifeless body and into a shop.
The crowd is thick. He can barely make it to the product. It’s said to decrease his boredom by entertaining his core neurons. He only needs to download the software into his brain for six hours a day.
Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out just enough for the device; not enough for the device and a cure for his rumbling stomach. The flash language speaks to him and he accepts its demands.
Mike crosses the lifeless body as he exits the store. He walks with his device down a narrow alley. His living quarters are just around the block. His feet splash in the oil puddles, one by one. Two by two, four by four he hears.
“Stop right there.”
Mike stops in his tracks and turns to face the voice.
“What’d you have there son?”
“I just bought it. I even have the recite,” Mike reaches into his pocket.
“Keep you hands right there!” the men pulled out their bloated clubs. They take a step toward Mike.
“But I can show you-“he reaches deeper. But before he can reach the piece of paper, the men bash their clubs into his skull.
“Now we saw you just last week stealing from a fruit stand a few blocks from here. You remember that?”
“Yeah,” Mike grunts, barely able to tell if he is alive or dead. “I didn’t have the money. I was starving.”
“But you have the money to buy this thing,” he holds up the device. Mike has no words.
“Listen son, you’re coming with us-“
“John.”
“What Jackson?”
“Get off his case. We have bigger problems.”
Mike hears in the distance the sound of gun fire. It echoes in the air with the sound of cries of innocent children, women, men; and a murderer.
“Come on John!” and they were gone.
Mike pulls himself to his feet. His entertainment device was crushed by his fall. His stomach rumbles. He has no money to cure it. He knows John and Jackson will visit him again next week.
-Written by Cherise Randle
-Written by Cherise Randle
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