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Colour Contagion · Original Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
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Downtrodden
There was nothing very special about our group, except that we were survivors. There are always a few, no matter how big the bomb.

Fleeing the skirts of Miami crater two days after the blast, we got as far north as Orlando. We lost quite a few of us along the way as society unravelled around us and hordes of starving people focussed on our well-supplied caravan. Were we fighting through literal zombie hordes? No, but it surely felt like it.

About a dozen of us were now holed up at Seaworld, living off the aquarium inhabitants that hadn’t eaten each other yet. We’d eaten most of the predators first to keep some fresh meat for ourselves. One, we hadn’t touched yet–Shamu 102, who was one of the few orcas left from when Seaworld had not only resumed orca shows, but orca gladiator-style fighting as well. This one was female, and she would probably last as long as the automated systems kept her alive in her tank, unless we got very hungry before then. We were still figuring out how to put her down with minimal waste of our limited ammo.

Today, we were sitting alongside her tank and shooting the shit when Chessie strode up, arms covered in gun grease, saying, “Okay, who brought this in here?” She waved a coverless copy of the Manthuic Records before us. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Most of us found something else to look at for a bit, but Jenvlek finally sighed and reached out for it.

“Jenvlek?” Chessie raised her eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you buy this crap.”

“A man’s gotta have hopes,” he said. He tore a strip from a blank page at the back and started rolling some nameless ash up in it. It took him a minute to light it so it would stay lit.

“What book is that?” asked Itsuki in the meantime. “Is it one of those Left Behind knockoffs?”

“Started off as fiction, then the author started to believe it herself and rebranded it as a prophecy,” I said. “Summary: space aliens are real, and they’re going to help us if we fuck up, but they can’t or won’t help all humanity. Only ‘the most downtrodden race’–direct quote–will be lifted up into the heavens by the Angeliens. The rest of us get to eat our own shit and die.”

“That’s a real cynical way to sum it all up,” said Jenvlek amid wisps of smoke, but not refuting anything I’d said. “But if the mashiach is coming at any point, might as well be now and might as well be a little green alien. And if we’re going for downtrodden, it can take up the Jews, no question.”

“Oh? Despite Israel being its own wealthy country? And what about the people Israel steps on all the time?” said Itsuki. “If you want downtrodden, for a hundred years there was only one country that ever had nuclear weapons dropped on its civilians.”

“Guys, let’s not go here again,” said Chessie, massaging her forehead. “Seriously, every group of humans in history has had times when they weren’t the top monkeys. We’ve basically beaten each other into civilization. It fucking hurt most of the time, but it’s how we got here. Anyway, if you want downtrodden, try women. Ever since primates evolved, we’ve gotten the short end of the stick–”

“Shit,” said Janvlek. He was staring into the sky and shaking. “It’s happening now. Right now!

“Dude, stop fucking around,” said Chessie, but we could already see the gleaming rays descending around us in the distance. Fuck, it was really happening!

One beam lanced down towards us, and swung back and forth in our midst as it sought its subject, just enough time for each of us to fan our hopes alive.

And then it found Shamu 102’s tank, and she ascended into the air in a sphere of water, swirling and dancing like a betta freed from her measly little glass.

She wasn’t alone. Away in the distance, millions of others rose from the ocean in distant sparkles, all the world’s cetaceans sailing up in beams of light.

As Shamu 102 drifted up into the sky, her tail protruded from the bubble and stood upright, facing our way, orange in the sun’s rays, as we all sank to our knees in despair.

Was it a “So long and thanks” gesture?

Was it a wave of farewell?

Or was she just flipping us the fluke?
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#1 ·
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
Your Story's Theme Song: Lorenzo Naccarato Trio - Osmosis

Skimmed this on my first go by the time I reached the third paragraph. I had an inkling that it was going to be a dense ride and I don't think 4 a.m. me can handle it without setting the comment section on fire.

Having now gone through it a couple more times, all I can say is wow. There's honestly a lot of information compacted into this entry. It had me tracing the tangents as to how they all fit together in this amalgamation of a jigsaw puzzle and, suffice to say, I came out of it with more questions than answers. Why this group of survivors? Why did the author suddenly decide it to be a prophecy? I'd spend paragraph after paragraph picking the logistics of the story's universe apart, but I don't think it changes the fact that despite its deeply-flawed concept, the story still delivers its message in my case.

Focusing my sights on the 'moral' of the story itself, however, I find myself questioning: why do these sequence of events have to happen in a post-apocalyptic society? It would seem highly likely that a cetacean miracle such as this one can occur even without society falling apart at the seams in the aftermath of a nuclear war. I guess it's because of the art you're referencing from, but then I would hope that the integration of the art into the story was a bit more smoother in that regard.

Also—and this is me being absolutely nitpicky here—I don't think whales and dolphins were your best bet. Sure, they're probably the go-to animals when it comes to endangered species that are magnificent, but I find there are more creative options out there. Could you imagine the sorry faces of all these people if the lights beam up something like, say, cockroaches or snakes? Or dung beetles, or possibly mosquitoes? Or even something like a tree— those things are alive as well! The most heartbreaking option I can think of is to have the infants and children of the remaining survivors be abducted instead. They're probably the most downtrodden of them all, being born in a world destroyed by their own parents.

As for the narration and the dialogue, they feel very exposition-y, the dialogue in particular. I get that there's a lot to unpack in this story, but trying to explain all this away just opens more room to pluck at the already loose threads tying this story together. It sacrifices characterization for concept, which I don't think helps in this case since the stuff they're talking about, again, only leaves me with more questionable information that, in the end, I need not the knowledge of as it in no way affects the story at its core.

Honestly, the fact that I can spend hours talking about this particular concept is because it's a genuinely great concept, and one I wouldn't hesitate to see fleshed out and turned into a proper story. It's just the little intricacies that need ironing out for me, that's all.

Also, this reminds me of The Leftovers.
#2 ·
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
This story greatly offended me for one reason.

Shamu 102, who was one of the few orcas left from when Seaworld had not only resumed orca shows, but orca gladiator-style fighting as well.


How DARE you gloss over this sentence like it isn't the coolest thing I've ever heard.

Okay, I'll be serious.

I think this story suffers from having very little setup to such a large topic and idea. I have two thoughts: either you moved through your story too fast, or you were referencing something I whiffed on and thus felt like you didn't need to dwell. I don't know, but the topic at hand felt like it came out late, and we were at the cetacean ascension awful quick.

But the writing is smooth, and the story is complete. So good job with your whole thing.

So long, and thanks for all the writing!
#3 · 1
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
Here’s to your efforts, author. At least one person got the references to Hitchikers Guide.

As soon as the orca started to lift up I immediately knew what was happening. I’ve only read a couple pages, seen the movie twice, so I don’t quite get the rest of the references (if there are any)

As a story on its own I think it fulfills its limited job. Idea of landscape, introduction to characters, and problem they’re trying to figure out.

It does kind of feel like talking heads, but hey, I was engaged in wondering who it was gonna be. I was not disappointed.
#4 · 3
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
Bottom of the slate for not better describing orca battles.

The biggest thing to remember iwth flash fiction is that you have very little space. The more words you spend setting up, the less words you actually have for telling a story and giving us characters. The first three paragraphs aren't really necessary and I am confident that you could have delivered the core of that information (it is an apocalypse) in the body of the story.

The biggest problem here, I think, is that the punchline is imminently obvious from the moment the exchange starts and the whole story is building towards it without doing much else. We don't really have a lot of investment or interest in the characters. Outside the situation, there isn't really a conflict to do. Etc. A predicted punchline isn't the end of the world I don't think, but it does help when the punchline is more the cherry on top.

Also, I realize the orca gladiator thing was in part to help sell the punchline, but when it comes to aquatic life, still hard to get it worse than like... goldfish or bettas. :p It isn't a big deal, but it is a thing to keep in mind with how people's minds will go.

(Miller stole the way I was gonna sign this off, so I'll just say thanks for writing!)
#5 ·
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
All I'm Saying Is, It Could Work had millenials, this one has Florida men. And, as others already pointed out, orca gladiators. Nice work with the ending, though, I rather liked this one.
#6 · 1
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
I have to say, I think the voicing here is great. All of our main characters sound like Chaotic Neutral jerks, which is absolutely perfect.

But I think I did run into some tonal problems, especially at the beginning. I actually straight-up thought that this was a grim-dark/horror story until the line about orca gladiators. While that may not seem to be a long time to remain confused, it's amplified by the fact that this is a minific. Even from a wordcount perspective, that's almost 20% of the story that I spent expecting this to be a completely different story.

As for the humor, there's the joke about the orcas in the beginning (which didn't land just because I was doing a double-take at it) and there's the Hitchhiker's Guide joke at the end.But the in-between feels very sparse, and it kind of dragged.

So I do think this one needs to establish its jokes sooner and have them come in at a faster rate of fire. Right now, I'm sorry to say that I wasn't really in the mood to laugh at this one.
#7 ·
· · >>GroaningGreyAgony
Alternate Title: This ain't it either, yo.
#8 · 1
·
>>WritingSpirit, >>Miller Minus, >>Anon Y Mous, >>AndrewRogue, >>Samey90, >>Bachiavellian, >>No_Raisin

Downtrodden

I was a bit bemused and intrigued by the source art, with its flat topped mushroom cloud. I thought of different things it might be, but it looks most to me like a whale’s tail. This visual observation was the basis of this story, and everything else I wrote was meant to lead to the closing lines reinterpreting that dominant feature of the source art. That’s pretty much all this story is.

Now that I know that orca gladiators are a welcome thing, I shall reconsider my aims.

Thanks for the great comments!