Flash Bites
a few short, short stories
by Krista Bunskoek
Published by K Bunskoek at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Krista Bunskoek
Cover Image Copyright 2011 Krista Bunskoek
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this work, in whole or in part, in any form.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, organizations and products depicted herein are either a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Table of Contents
A Day in the Life: A Coin Story
First published at: http://www.365tomorrows.com/05/24/freedom/
Stealing the unimobile gave her the rush of a lifetime.
Speeding up the mountainous, winding highway, she laughed like a youthful mutineer.
"Change sound" she commanded.
"Sound changing" stated the pleasant sync voice. "Which sound would you like?"
"Formula 1".
The car zoooooommmmed as she sped through the corner at 150 mph.
Freedom. Wasn't this what her parents had told her life was about? While they slaved all day working on new devices. Devices to track your every move.
She had been very careful this time. For months she had been plotting it out. Plotting to feel the thrill of unwatched, unrecorded freedom.
The toughest was the Smartphone. The tracker of all. Getting her device detached from her wrist was not so straightforward. Initial attempts left alarm systems blaring, and a short visit from the compliance police.
She had to do it in a way that tricked the network. To make the network believe her DNA was still attached. Hair. Hair had DNA. A few fair locks would not be missed.
Then there was the uni itself. Only her mother's fingerprints and correct grip could open its door. And only her mother's voice could start the silent electric engine. The voice was easy. She had been practicing her mother's voice all her life, being trained to be just like this internationally acclaimed woman. She knew the voice.
The fingerprints. They were a different matter. The fingerprints required trickery. An hour long mother/ daughter sculpting class, and mounds of modeling clay. That would do it.
The grip she could wing. So many parties with dignitaries shaking hands. She knew the grip of her hereditary chain.
Then there was the timing. Well that was simple. Her parents were always jetting around the globe, with the occasional journey to a space station. All she needed to do was hack into their calendars, find a time they were both away - and she was scot free. Scot free to freedom!
The plotting worked. The universe was unfolding as she wished.
"Turn engine on," She stated in her best impression.
The panel lights came on, the seatbelt self fastened. She had done it!
Freedom!
She laughed with the thrill of cracking the code to independence.
Stomping on the power pedal, the F1 engine simulation roared. Now at 160, her eyes fixated on the windy road, her knuckles whitened with her own grip on the faux leather wheel. Her heart raced. Her mouth salivated.
Then she froze. The car was slowing. She pressed the power pedal. Nothing. She was slowing down. The steering wheel began to turn beyond her control. The car was turning into a gravel parking lot.
Her face froze in terror. Her head stopped thinking. Up ahead, there in the parking lot, was it? No!
Her parents.
The GPS.
She was grounded for a month. With no network privileges.
But she would always know now the taste of freedom.
First published at: http://www.dailylove.net/2011/08/82711.html
Gillian was turning 30 this year. She had a few items left on her list before the ominous turning of her decade.
The daunting one which never went right was to find Mr. Right.
So she made a list for her list of how to find this elusive soul mate. She had systematically gone through her plan. None had given her the results she wanted to achieve.
She was now down to number 10. The last on her list. If this did not work, she knew she would be a spinster for life.
This was ok, as she was succeeding in her career path. But she yearned for the romance. Her heart, she felt, was full of passion. Why could she never seem to share this with a man?
Number 10 on the list: ballroom dance lessons.
Well, here she was - standing on the makeshift dance floor of an old school gym. This was her last hope at making her desires of the heart come true.
Other students were arriving, many in couples. Some arrived together in a foursome or more.
Her heart filled with dismay. Perhaps this was not a good idea. What was she thinking - taking a ballroom dance class in the hopes of meeting a man? What kind of Cinderella fairy tale was she trying to live out?
The dance instructors arrived. Even they were a twosome. Her heart sank a little more.
"Is everyone paired up?" clapped the male dance teacher. "We are doing the Tango tonight. American Style."
She looked squeamishly towards the floor. She had no pair. Was she searching too hard for her own Prince Charming?
Someone approached her from behind.
"Excuse me. Do you have a partner tonight?" asked a confident, rugged voice.
She turned, to find a most handsome, well chiseled face speaking to her.
"No," she managed to say.
They coupled up. Clearly having been to dance lessons before, he placed her arm confidently on his arm and shoulder, tango style. She shuddered slightly at his gentle touch; his arms were so strong and muscular.