Tag: short story

Rocks

The clear, bubbling foam dashed against the rocks. Sonia had spent the last two hours in silence, taking a swig or two every half a minute, wondering, contemplating. Her’s wasn’t the best life, but she had always tried to make the best of what she got. Although—

She took another long draught. Looking down at the rocks, she mused how the lapping liquid chipped their coldness and hardness, dissolving them into nothing. Like herself, she thought downed the liquor ignoring her stinging throat.

The rocks remained. Beckoning the bartender, she slid her glass over to him. “More Scotch, no rocks.”

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Times changing

He sat brooding over his third beer. “When life gives you lemons…” the barman was saying to him, but Allan no longer listened. His life wasn’t just sour — jobless at 27, he was plummeting towards rock bottom.

A rainbow of scarves flew across the bar. People were swaying as John Lennon egged them through loud speakers. “Hello there,” A slender woman with a black bob took the vacant seat next to Allan.

— — —

“See this grandpa!” Peter yelled, nudging Allan out of his reverie. “Someone replied to my Tinder profile.”

Allan smiled. He had found his soul mate at a snack bar.

Fighting for a cause

Streets groaned with protesters holding up posters, screaming, vouching, for change. For too long now, multinationals have sucked the lifeblood of native dealers. “Go local or go home!” they yelled.

Youngsters had ditched school to boo at employees hiding inside stores. News flashed across TV screens in every home. Mary Williams was proud—her son protested. He knew the value of those who’ve always been around.

From an alley near by, an old man peered at the crowd, his dark tribal skin glowing in the sunlight. He recognised the Williams kid—the son of the realtor who stole his land.

Hand over

“Listen up lads, this is an important mission. It’s time you face your purpose in life. Take responsibility and shine through the hardship. Remember, your sweat, your sighs, and trials make the world better. Commit your body to the task and your soul to god.”

Closing his speech, the Commander walked away from the twenty-year-olds who clutched firearms and seared gloves and wore helmets smeared with dry blood and sweat of once-comrades.

From behind them he spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Men standing by ready for orders, Sir.”

When the approval came, the Commander committed six-hundred souls to the devil.