Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
In Suburbia, No One Can Smell You
Morgan was riding north on the trail, up to the intersection with the main roads, when it happened.
First they noticed the utility poles. Most were visibly cracked. Several were lying on the ground. A few still had wires, transformers, and whatever else. But there were no sparks, no flames. And there were no people standing outside their cars to rubberneck. No utility-company employees. No one else at all.
In fact, there were no cars moving -- all were still, Silent. The street surface was no longer full of just potholes; but actual, long, wide furrows. It was as if some occult hand had reached down from the sky and dragged rents into the Earth. The storefronts, public services buildings, little restaurants, and even the residences had fared no better. Many windows were broken. And no lights flickered that they could see, and no footsteps sounded that they could hear.
No birds chirped or sang, either. No winged insects buzzed. No dogs barked. And yet, there was not the -- heaviness, which comes at least in the forest, when the wildlife grow silent before a hungry predator or an imminent storm. Something had happened here, without doubt. But it was … it must be long-gone.
What the hell is all this? Too much, I'll say for a start.
They dismounted their bicycle, and stepped with deliberate care down the sidewalk, or into the street where they had to. Not with slowness, though, because the place feeling post-apocalyptic didn't mean they stopped knowing it like the back of their hand.
Several minutes later, according to their cycling-computer which had been beeped its "no GPS signal" warning several times, they had made it to an intersection with another road. Which was when they saw, out of the corner of their eye, movement. And not just a flag flapping in the wind. A person.
Should I hide? Should I run up to them? Maybe they know what --
But Morgan's thoughts were interrupted when the other person's gaze met theirs.
"Hey! You can't be out here! What the hell are you doing with a bike? Only scouts should have those, and you sure as shit aren't wearing the colors! You one of those 'move fast enough and the Others won't smell me' idiots, are ya?"
Morgan blinked. The other finished shouting, and started running. Toward them.
Crazy person? But ... there's all this whatever-happened-here. They shade their eyes, and look out in the direction of home. More downed poles. And more stopped cars. Not looking good.
"Yeah, this is ... not what this place normally looks like." They pause to sniff their armpits. "And did I smell that bad from that far away? I always use plenty of antiperspirant. And I smell fine to me? Is it a … problem, for you? And do you know anything about, um…" Morgan gestures around, widely.
"Quinn. Name's Quinn."
"Morgan."
"Morgan? No one at the fort I'm from calls themself that. Haven't heard of anyone by that name from the other safe zones 'round here, neither. You must be far from home! And what're you talkin' about? Did your fort not raise you right? One a' them 'don't tell the kids about the Others' type places? And then their elders always wonder why half their young adults go out and never come back. It'd be funny, if it weren't so sad."
Quinn sighed. "Screw it. We can feed another mouth for a bit. Come on with me. I've got an extra cloaker, for fools like you."
"Uhh. I understood all of those words, but none of the sentences. I'm from right around here. Born and raised. Moved out just a couple years ago, and pretty nearby. What, do you not come from here?"
"From here?" Quinn's eyebrows were high, and their mouth was open, a little slack. "No one ever comes from here, especially not right here! Shit, you've been running from the Others longer 'n I'd thought if you're losing your orientation to place! Now, come, we've got to get going before they catch up with you."
But as Quinn reached for their shoulder, the cyclist was …
… still standing on the sidewalk, beside their bike.
Except everything around was back to normal. Except they could … definitely hear something stranger than silence; a pulsing hum. Like high-voltage equipment. And not from the power lines. But from up. From the sun.
Morgan turned around. And started pedaling home as fast as they could.
First they noticed the utility poles. Most were visibly cracked. Several were lying on the ground. A few still had wires, transformers, and whatever else. But there were no sparks, no flames. And there were no people standing outside their cars to rubberneck. No utility-company employees. No one else at all.
In fact, there were no cars moving -- all were still, Silent. The street surface was no longer full of just potholes; but actual, long, wide furrows. It was as if some occult hand had reached down from the sky and dragged rents into the Earth. The storefronts, public services buildings, little restaurants, and even the residences had fared no better. Many windows were broken. And no lights flickered that they could see, and no footsteps sounded that they could hear.
No birds chirped or sang, either. No winged insects buzzed. No dogs barked. And yet, there was not the -- heaviness, which comes at least in the forest, when the wildlife grow silent before a hungry predator or an imminent storm. Something had happened here, without doubt. But it was … it must be long-gone.
What the hell is all this? Too much, I'll say for a start.
They dismounted their bicycle, and stepped with deliberate care down the sidewalk, or into the street where they had to. Not with slowness, though, because the place feeling post-apocalyptic didn't mean they stopped knowing it like the back of their hand.
Several minutes later, according to their cycling-computer which had been beeped its "no GPS signal" warning several times, they had made it to an intersection with another road. Which was when they saw, out of the corner of their eye, movement. And not just a flag flapping in the wind. A person.
Should I hide? Should I run up to them? Maybe they know what --
But Morgan's thoughts were interrupted when the other person's gaze met theirs.
"Hey! You can't be out here! What the hell are you doing with a bike? Only scouts should have those, and you sure as shit aren't wearing the colors! You one of those 'move fast enough and the Others won't smell me' idiots, are ya?"
Morgan blinked. The other finished shouting, and started running. Toward them.
Crazy person? But ... there's all this whatever-happened-here. They shade their eyes, and look out in the direction of home. More downed poles. And more stopped cars. Not looking good.
"Yeah, this is ... not what this place normally looks like." They pause to sniff their armpits. "And did I smell that bad from that far away? I always use plenty of antiperspirant. And I smell fine to me? Is it a … problem, for you? And do you know anything about, um…" Morgan gestures around, widely.
"Quinn. Name's Quinn."
"Morgan."
"Morgan? No one at the fort I'm from calls themself that. Haven't heard of anyone by that name from the other safe zones 'round here, neither. You must be far from home! And what're you talkin' about? Did your fort not raise you right? One a' them 'don't tell the kids about the Others' type places? And then their elders always wonder why half their young adults go out and never come back. It'd be funny, if it weren't so sad."
Quinn sighed. "Screw it. We can feed another mouth for a bit. Come on with me. I've got an extra cloaker, for fools like you."
"Uhh. I understood all of those words, but none of the sentences. I'm from right around here. Born and raised. Moved out just a couple years ago, and pretty nearby. What, do you not come from here?"
"From here?" Quinn's eyebrows were high, and their mouth was open, a little slack. "No one ever comes from here, especially not right here! Shit, you've been running from the Others longer 'n I'd thought if you're losing your orientation to place! Now, come, we've got to get going before they catch up with you."
But as Quinn reached for their shoulder, the cyclist was …
… still standing on the sidewalk, beside their bike.
Except everything around was back to normal. Except they could … definitely hear something stranger than silence; a pulsing hum. Like high-voltage equipment. And not from the power lines. But from up. From the sun.
Morgan turned around. And started pedaling home as fast as they could.
Pics
The beginning was a little rough. You name one character, but then a vague "they" soon after places at least one more there. Given that Morgan remains the only named one for some time, I have to presume the limited narration is in his perspective and that the direct thought is his. Unless you're being non-gender-specific in calling Morgan "they" (such are the dangers of ambiguous pronouns). I'm not even sure once you get to the bike, since you mention "they" dismounting; it could be two people on one bike.
That opening scene could stand to be more impactful. It immediately starts off saying that things look abandoned and wrong, and the rest of the scene gets descriptive of that without adding anything. The additional details don't paint a different picture than the first bit of description, and there's no escalation.
A few small editing things, like a missing word and a slip into present tense.
Okay, you lost me at the end. When you had Quinn reach for Morgan and even formatted it as if there was a twist going on, I kind of expected it to be that Morgan was one of the Others and would attack Quinn. But I have no idea what happened at the end, and for all the exposition Quinn dropped, I still don't have any context for what the Others are or why any of this is happening. So I liked the atmosphere, but I couldn't figure this one out.
That opening scene could stand to be more impactful. It immediately starts off saying that things look abandoned and wrong, and the rest of the scene gets descriptive of that without adding anything. The additional details don't paint a different picture than the first bit of description, and there's no escalation.
A few small editing things, like a missing word and a slip into present tense.
Okay, you lost me at the end. When you had Quinn reach for Morgan and even formatted it as if there was a twist going on, I kind of expected it to be that Morgan was one of the Others and would attack Quinn. But I have no idea what happened at the end, and for all the exposition Quinn dropped, I still don't have any context for what the Others are or why any of this is happening. So I liked the atmosphere, but I couldn't figure this one out.
Creepy otherworld exploration, but I am also somewhat bewildered by the end. Is the calamity that affected the parallel world about to strike here too? What have the Others to do with the Sun? Mysteries that are perhaps solvable, could one shift tab over to another draft. 4.7 And He Built A Crooked House points.
>>Pascoite
Yeah, I struggled with the format/the wordcount limit. My draft was actually about 1500 words, and I had to cut about half the story, primarily from the beginning (which would have made the pace slower, and Morgan's situation and perspective clearer, I think). But also from toward-the-end; the conversation was slower, and there were a few more hints of worldbuilding. The very end was pretty much just vibes, though.
Yeah, I struggled with the format/the wordcount limit. My draft was actually about 1500 words, and I had to cut about half the story, primarily from the beginning (which would have made the pace slower, and Morgan's situation and perspective clearer, I think). But also from toward-the-end; the conversation was slower, and there were a few more hints of worldbuilding. The very end was pretty much just vibes, though.
>>GroaningGreyAgony
Thanks for the creepiness/weirdness points! And yeah, I was mostly just Weird-fiction vibing at the very end. I didn't have some specific cataclysm or apocalypse worldbuilding in mind. I can say that this was meant to be forward-then-backward time-travel, not a parallel world. Also, there's meant to be Something Weird about (as in concerning, not necessarily in, save for Morgan being in it) the town, and about Morgan, that drew the Others there and to the region, and from there to the country and the world. And that's why Quinn is especially surprised to find another human right here. For the Others, I had a vague sense of their being harbinger- and/or reaper-monsters, which either came from the Sun or were messing with the Sun.
Thanks for the creepiness/weirdness points! And yeah, I was mostly just Weird-fiction vibing at the very end. I didn't have some specific cataclysm or apocalypse worldbuilding in mind. I can say that this was meant to be forward-then-backward time-travel, not a parallel world. Also, there's meant to be Something Weird about (as in concerning, not necessarily in, save for Morgan being in it) the town, and about Morgan, that drew the Others there and to the region, and from there to the country and the world. And that's why Quinn is especially surprised to find another human right here. For the Others, I had a vague sense of their being harbinger- and/or reaper-monsters, which either came from the Sun or were messing with the Sun.