June 2017 100 Word Anonymous Writing Challenge

[Victoria Silverwolf]

**PLEASE DO NOT POST STORIES DIRECTLY TO THIS THREAD**

Theme: Environment

Genre: Science Fiction or Fantasy


Please PM (Private Message) all entries to me and I'll post the entries into this thread. Entries can be sent from now until the end of June (exact time depends on my schedule.)


Once the challenge thread closes, a voting poll will be created where you can vote for your ONE favorite entry.


There will also be a guessing portion where you can try to match the Anonymous stories with their creators!


To PM me, click my profile and select 'Start a Conversation'. Good luck.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Burn it all

Burn, burn, burn the world,
all that's in my path.
All will smell the scorching.
All shall feel my wrath.

Searing through the woodlands,
flames blasting from my nostrils.
Flowers wither down to black
from my hair's orange tendrils.

Skyscrapers crumble down,
roaring, melting cylinders.
Screams echo from cottages
as I burn them to cinders.

Salty steam wafts from a sea
filled with boiling fishes.
Birdies fall like shooting stars,
ones that won't grant wishes.

Burn, burn, burn the world.
Me and flame are one.
Burn, burn, burn it all,
'til everything is gone.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Gulls

The sea is calm today. My fishing boat glides through crystal waters, the hum of the solar-powered engine a droning counterpoint to the harsh cries of circling birds overhead. I lower the nets and begin trawling.

A sudden lurch startles me. Quickly I raise the nets then dash to the rail to peer overboard. Beneath the clear ocean surface I can see a dark webwork of ruined buildings; the tip of a mighty tower which once graced the sky, narrowly missed.

I shiver at the thought of those dead cities and sail on to other hunting grounds.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Skull Flowers

We were killing them with our greed.

The coal forges roared back to life, snarling flame like dragon's disturbed of their slumber. We became rich. Even the poor plucked money from their pockets like crisp, spring leaves.

Smoke choked the sky. The sun turned pale as a pearl in a plagued ocean.

Trees and plants were dying. We forced change upon them. In need of another sustenance nature found a way.

I pluck the crimson petal from my scalp like a stray grey hair. The headaches are at their worst. Tomorrow.

I become the seed.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Denial


“Smell that fresh air, Jeffery! And isn’t that sunshine comforting?”

Mother is always demonstrative. I watch as she throws up her arms, running in a circle, laughing all the while.

“See, Jeffery? They were wrong! We didn’t die from smog, or drown in rising waters as the polar icecaps melted! Enjoy, Jefferey! Enjoy!”

“Mom, that all happened… on Mother Earth.”

She stops, displeased. “You know we’re not supposed to talk about that place, Jeffery!” she scolds, then smiles again. “Look how green the grass is! Now come… dance barefoot with me among these wonderful daisies!”

I dance with her.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Little ray of sunshine

John frowned, “Where’s it coming from?”

Since moving into the farmhouse the cloying stench arrived daily.

“I keep telling you, Daddy, it’s the Bogeyman, his breath stinks the whole place up,” said Jenny, his six year old daughter.

A squeal of brakes startled him, the corner of the building disappeared as an overturning lorry crashed through.

For a split second before dust blocked his view he glimpsed it, trapped in a corner. The Bogeyman screaming as it disintegrated in the sudden exposure to merciless sunlight.

He knew he’d never dare close his eyes to sleep again.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Snow


It was all white the first day. I prefer it that way. It makes it harder to see the detail of millennia of rock formation.

Jane had decided there was little risk. But below the snow I was waiting. Not in a sinister way, a natural way. Just waiting as I was expected to, as my species always do.

You see some people just don't belong in the time and space they are born in to. Jane wouldn't be happier 600 years ago but I had to send her there. It's in my nature. I HAD TO!

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

This is my world.

Not merely fallen sparrows known, each blade of grass tabulated, insect chirp recorded.

The stars pass again beneath my feet, repetitive.

Living in a glass and metal habitat can be natural; how is it worse than work from home in city flat, only going out to shop, sidewalks crammed with humanity rebarbative?

An hour's slog through barely breathable air, clogged with human stench, might bring me to a park, or open space.

The choice is made, here I belong - what place would I occupy in a city or a jungle?

This, not Earth, is my natural place.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

The cloud builders

They admired the results of the day. Feathery cirrus waves in huge banks, stretched wide over pillars of cumulonimbus, which in turn grew from cotton cumulus. In between, scatterings of altostratus sailed easy. Together, all these layers created a landscape of abstract worlds, alive with change.

Previously, this had been such a complicated combination to achieve, but these days it was almost effortless, thanks to the animating climate.

“But who else will appreciate this? I mean, humans died years ago, in this global runaway warming event.”

“Nature does not need an audience. We work for the sake of the cloud.”

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Caretaker

The caretaker scanned his domain: lush greenery, shrubbery, exotic flowers. He viewed the grapevines on arbors, herbs, vegetable gardens, fruit trees. He smiled at the warmth from the light above and the arrays of sprinklers which cast showers over all.

He was a good steward of the land entrusted to him.

What's this? Someone was battering at the entry gate.

He touched a wrist pad. An image popped up. Another of the dirty underfolk begging for food and water.

He pressed a button. Electricity surged through the gate, dropping the scrawny creature.

He cared for his commission well.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

The New Paris Agreement

The Parties to this Agreement,
Recognizing the need for an effective response to the urgent threat of climate change.

…

Have agreed as follows:
To hold the increase in the global average temperature to below 2 °C above pre-post-human level.
To reduce the emissions of antigrav gasses.
To adapt to the adverse impacts of climate change in a manner that does not threaten further space colonization.
…

DONE at New Paris this twelfth day of December two thousand one hundred and fifteen.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the undersigned, being duly authorized, have signed this Agreement.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Help is Here

“But the message said they were here to help!” President Gunthar yelled as they lowered into Earth’s atmosphere, firing at every metropolis.

Karen slid to the ground, face in hands. “I think they are helping. The planet. Not us.”

Gunthar paled. “We have to convince them otherwise.”

“It’s too late. We’ll be wiped out. The planet will survive after all. We asked them for help. They gave it.” Karen stood and grabbed a drink.

“We were just on the brink of an accord!” he shouted to no one.

The scotch went down smoothly as the ships arrived.

Silence.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Crime and Punishment

Caylyn soared over the heads of the crowd strolling through the Grand Central Garden of the BosWash arcology. Her hoverskates buzzed as she made a one hundred and eighty degree turn. A police floater screamed. Caylyn led it a merry chase through the one hundred square kilometers of the garden. She would have escaped if it hadn't been for a stray maintenance bot that stupidly got in her way while it was scrubbing the ceiling. She landed with a soft thud, thanks to the grav field. The AI judge gave her the maximum sentence for endangerment. Twenty-four hours outside.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

WIC-TV 11 News

"This is a Special Bulletin. As incredible as it may seem, those who have recently died, are coming back to life. Scientists have confirmed, that radiation, caused by global warming, is reanimating corpses. Ladies and gentlemen, please stand by. My sandwich has been partially devoured, by Barbara, my station manager. Look, I fought zombies to get that sandwich. What? I don't care if it's the end of the world, you old goat. What? I thought you'd be the one to annoy your mother in that way, you mangy dog. What?! That's it! I'm coming to get you Barbara!"

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Unrequited Love.

We gave

Our bounty, to keep you fed, to keep you whole.
Our skin we shed to catch you underfoot, to keep you safe from harm.
Our unborn young, our life force, to please your senses, awaken your souls.
Our very being to keep you warm, to shelter you from the wind and rain.

How do you return our love?

You look away.

You look to distant stars.

You look to machines.

Do you not feel our love?

Do you not feel our gifts?

We die in your arms

As you die in ours.

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

South Wind

They looked like statues. Rows and rows of them, all pointed east, the hair on the right side of their heads worn bald.

“You see,” said Imani, “the monks are hewn by their environment. The southerly winds denude their heads as they pray.”

“But they choose to face east,” I said, “That means they are hewn by their choice to pray in that direction, not the environment.”

“The direction of their holy sites was not their choice. It was God’s. Anyhow, I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. We are lost, and the monks make good compasses.”