It's dark. It isn't my usual sort of story, but I made myself remember key parts of it so I could write it for my blog today.
For writers out there who are scared of writing short. It's not hard. Every idea that enters your head doesn't have to be a novel. Sometimes, short gives the picture with the minimum of words. This story clocks in at 427 words. It has a beginning, middle and end. It has a character arc. It has motivation.
I could try to condense it, but I thought you could see my rough draft. I wrote it. I tweaked a few sentences. I read it again, and here it is. Enjoy!
Living the Dream
By
Margaret A. Golla
Life was good. I was living the dream.
Athletic, good-looking, and smart. Who could not love me, right?
I blew through high school without having to open a book. When you are the star of the team, people do things for you. I simply took advantage of their motivation.
Was there anything wrong with that?
Girls flocked me like a rock star. I had my pick after every Friday night game and, though my mother would be ashamed of me, I took advantage of their desires.
Universities courted me. The perks of being the star of the team came in small packages: steak dinners, weekend trips to any place I wanted to go, and the little red Corvette sitting in my driveway. Of course, they had to do some creative financing to cover up the bribes.
What did I care? That’s their problem. I just simply enjoyed the fruits of their labor.
I picked a University far away. I didn’t need my parents or friends getting in the way of me living my dream.
I worked hard, ate well, and was very good at my job on the team, but I wanted more. I wanted to be the star. The team wasn’t doing as well as everyone expected. And when the star of the team disappeared, Coach said he went back home because he was so disappointed at his failings.
This opportunity gave me a chance to be the star on the Homecoming Game. This game was pivotal. Win and our team got endorsements and money from the alums. Lose and we would have to run with the bulls. I didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t be too bad, right?
We lost.
Running with the bulls was a little different than I expected. It should have been called running with the flying bots. The entire A squad was on the run. That was when I found out what happened to the previous star player.
He’d fed us . . . literally.
A bot cornered me in a dead end. Sweat sprung from every pore of my body when I realized this thing had my death written in its software. I’d failed and had to pay. The University took advantage of my dream, but when I didn’t deliver, well, let’s just say they cut their losses.
And I was their star loser.
The bot lowered its sights for a good, clean head shot. It wouldn’t want to destroy the meat on my good-looking, athletic body, right?
I just wondered whose dream I would be feeding now.
The End
It's a little "Soylent Green", isn't it? :-)
Later, Peeps!
