Tag: Fiction

“Get down here now!!” One of the human women had figured out how to message the ship.

Curious, the aliens landed in Central Park. In minutes their ship was surrounded by women of all ages, shapes, sizes, and descriptions.

The woman closest to the ship, who was clearly waiting for them, wore a shirt with a patch on it that said “Lucy”. She was in heavy work pants, boots, and carrying a baseball bat.

The aliens talked amongst themselves and decided maybe they’ll stay in the ship.

“Yeah I thought you would,” Lucy muttered loud enough for their microphones to pick up. “Shut the thought converter off right now or you’ll never make it back into the sky alive.” The crowd of women roared in agreement, a sound that shook the earth below them for miles around.

“Why would we do that?” One of the aliens asked through the comms system. They sounded both smug about the trouble they’d caused and curious.

“Because we already know what the boys think. And we already know most of their memories. We don’t need that information to survive or thrive here.”

“Because we’re a culture that believed in privacy, nd you’re breaching the privacy of all the men on earth.”another woman added.

“AND YOUR DEVICE CAUSES MIGRAINES IN 51% OF THE POPULATION YOU JACKASSES.” a woman who until that moment had been clutching her temples in obvious pain. Women all around shook their heads in agreement.

“And you’re not smart enough use it without supervision.” Lucy finished. “We’ve got to confiscate it before you get yourselves hurt.” The women behind Lucy cheered.

“Hey! What makes you think we’re not smart enough to use it?” another of the aliens objected.

“EXHIBIT A: YOU HAVEN’T FIGURED OUT WE’RE READING YOUR MINDS…” Lucy shouted in obvious frustration.

Writing Prompt #3059

“I know.”

Well, almost exactly the same. Sometimes it strikes you as just a bit too…. polished. Like perhaps your chin is just a little too smooth and creamy? or maybe it’s that the smear of chocolate sauce on your chin from that ice cream sundae isn’t reflecting the light quite right.

When other people – friends, family – look in the mirror, they see themselves aged sixty years, or worse, their bodies aged sixty years and breaking down as they may be in the grave. But not all of them. A few of your friends close to your own age have the same experience you do. Your older sister looks like something out of the end of an Indiana Jones flick, but you, your bud Robin, and even Harry from down the street, all look just as you do now. You’re in your twenties, you’re young and neat looking, dressed in polos and slacks, ready to take on the world.

You thought it was weird, but you also thought that it was a sign of great things to come. After all, your stupid older sister wouldn’t be there, and you would. That had to be great, right?

Then one day when you were walking past the mirror, the image began to glitch. You knew this was “just” a mirror. Your friends had helped you take it apart to confirm there was no screen and nothing electrical involved. Your reflection stabilized after a second, but then glitched again, looking more like a lost UHF signal from your grandmother’s black and white TV set than a mirror, or even a digital display.

One more time, you saw your reflection. This time, it screamed at you. “You have to get off the moon!” it yelled, clawing at the inside of the glass. “YOU HAVE TO GET OFF—“ A mushroom cloud lit the background, which was supposed to be the bland yellow living room wall behind you.

After that, the mirror went black. A few moments later, it reflected you, your friends, and your stupid older sister, just like any other mirror.

You didn’t sleep for a long time after that.