Everything happened more or less. Well, the parts about my experiences, at least. Anyways, I did attend St. Peters, and the lunch lady really did deny me food. Knowing the careless waste of everything always leaves me unsettled.
2014
Lonnie Prole has escaped from time. When his eyes fluttered open, he was terrified. Lonnie was back in his elementary school, St. Peters, on a bright cold day. St. Peters is okay. Well, everything is pretty much okay with Lonnie. Food stains spotted the floor like eczema. Crumpled paper balls filled lockers, desks, and trash cans. The once revered building was now sagging, and the insides looked trampled as if a wild creature had been let loose. As it goes.
“BRANNG” the bell screamed. Flocks of kids began running to the mess hall as the clock struck thirteen. Sighing, he got up and started the long walk, boots trudging. Lonnie arrived in a lunchroom filled with boisterous chatter. His floating stomach growled as a pleasant scent wafted towards him. A mob crowded the far table. Lonnie found his way past coated limbs, feeling like he was in a car wash. His jaw gaped when he reached the opening, seeing the tall stack of boxes. It was the Leaning Tower of Pizza. “How on earth are they going to finish all that?” he muttered. Baron Rutherford, one of his classmates, was hosting a pizza party during lunch. Of course, Lonnie wasn’t invited, though, because it was 'uncool' not to play with food. As it goes.
Baron took a small bite, immediately flinging the pizza with disdain. “That one’s too floppy,” he remarked, grabbing another slice. The girl beside him picked off all the cheese, rolled it into a ball, and flicked it at one of her friends. Her friend dodged just in time. Another boy stacked two slices, squishing them until sauce oozed on the table. Laughing as he tossed the entire mess on the floor, watching it land with a splat. They are the quintessential cool kids. As it goes.
"Of course, Lonnie wasn’t invited, though, because it was 'uncool' not to play with food. As it goes."
2032
Lonnie traveled in time. Today, he found himself at an E-shop/Scrapyard called “Big D’s.” Scrapyards have become increasingly common near bodies of water. People piled their old devices at scrapyards to upgrade and get new cutting-edge technology. All companies worry about is cutting costs, so they dump trash into the ocean. Big D’s was built next to a dam—garbage bobbed in the once pristine water, toxic juices mixing with the liquid of life. Lonnie caught sight of a singular fish. It swam in slow circles, trapped in the green murky prison, awaiting death. It's been a long time since Lonnie saw a fish. As it goes.
"It's been a long time since Lonnie saw a fish. As it goes."
2032
When Lonnie stepped inside, a blast of cool air hit him. The doorbell jingled, but no one looked up. Lonnie saw rows of tech lining the shelves. Devices that would have fetched handsome sums of money were now sitting, collecting dust. The people inside were hunched over their phones, faces pale blue from the glow of their screens. Lonnie walked around the store. Still, no one batted an eye. Lonnie noticed their twitching fingers. Brows furrowed with impatience when a video lasted longer than a few seconds. Lonnie glanced at his own phone, feeling the urge to check it, even though he knew nothing was there. Scrolling felt like skipping stones across a lake: Each video barely plays when the next starts. However, the videos never end. People spend hours unmoving, flicking through endless content. It was the ultimate waste–a thousand tiny fragments of time, gone before anyone noticed. The line was too long. Like everyone else’s, Lonnie's patience had grown thin, so he decided to leave. As it goes.
"Like everyone else’s, Lonnie's patience had grown thin, so he decided to leave. As it goes."
2075
Lonnie traveled again. The world was unrecognizable. Smog hung in the air like a blanket. The traffic drowned out the faint hum of machinery. Lonnie stared at the skyline. Skyscrapers loomed, bent, and broken. Atop the highest one, there was a gigantic ring. The ring began pulsating with energy waves that rippled outward arcs. The air around it was alive, bending and warping as if the structure was altering reality. Sparks of blue and purple electricity spiraled, creating a swirling vortex at its core.
Each pulse drummed the earth like the beat of a colossal heart. Lonnie overheard fragments of nervous conversation. “We are done for. They were our last hope, but they chose to escape.” Large screens flickered, casting luminous shadows on the slums below. Lonnie hurried through the chaotic streets, dodging people in tattered clothing. Desperate crowds were fighting at a malfunctioning food dispenser. A construction crew worked at the base of the building. Lonnie pulled the arm of one of the workers, begging him to explain. “The elites have all escaped to an artificial habitat. Mr. Rutherford used Earth’s last fuel reservoir to transport them to a sanctuary. We are hopelessly trying to collect the remaining trickles of HF-32. There's only a few years left until total collapse”.
Lonnie stumbled a bit, staring blankly ahead. His emotions swirled together like a palette of paint. All the colors mix to create a dull, lifeless grey. A wave of melancholy washed over Lonnie, yet deep down, he knew this would all happen. The ring was never built for the salvation of all. It was about escape for the few with the most resources. The ring pulsed once more, a final reminder of the price people paid for the careless acts of others. It wasn’t just the resources they had wasted. It was everything. The Earth, the resources, the time. The ring stood as a cold, glowing monument to the fact that some would always have more while the rest were left to watch the world burn. As it goes.
"The ring stood as a cold, glowing monument to the fact that some would always have more while the rest were left to watch the world burn. As it goes."
Present day
That's when I woke up. I felt the gentle fingers of my mom shake me. She was peering over my shoulder, reading. She said, “Why are you writing about Anti-Waste? You're better off writing about Anti-Death.” The alarm clock on my nightstand flashed the time in bright red. N:OW
"As it goes..."
Congratulations Richard! You are a winner of the Season of Ink Creative Writing Contest!
Your short story was amazing! Hope you enjoy this website!
Website by: Madison W. - UNC-Chapel Hill
Credits:
Created with images by Proxima Studio - "Concept of passing away, the clock breaks down into pieces" • Halfpoint - "A group of cheerful small school kids in canteen, eating lunch." • RaptorWoman - "Person in a red jacket and helmet walks through a scrapyard filled with metal debris and old machinery." • Snowstudio - "photo of group of young people looking at their phones, waiting for the subway and reading messages from social media " • Wang - "Nanjing, China. Severe air pollution, haze and poor visibility make the tall buildings in the city hard to see clearly" • Тимур Конев - "Rectangular alarm clock on the bedside table with red numbers, sleeping man in bed in dark room. Concept chef sleeping after hard day at restaurant, sleep disturbance, oversleep work, night shift"