WRITOBER #4 - Labels

Tierno Beauregard

He never takes me anywhere! cackled the fat woman. Mine drags me everywhere... sighed the tall one. She knew her names. She didn't care. It was easy to label a face, and she wouldn't forget it.
What was her label? The odd one? The loony bin? Yeah...
How long it would take for them to drag her into the conversation? She could leave, yes, but she was curious.
She was the nosy one.

WRITOBER #3 - A Break

Ed Emshwiller

She was on her break.
Resumed her hobby, and paid close attention to the world around her. Listened attentively to the conversations, never parting her face from the book. She was reading the same passage over and over, but she was actually reading people.
And as the world was falling apart around her, she was on her break - reading.

WRITOBER #2 - The Sight

Desconhecido

A little break.
The terminal went to sleep. She stood up and walked out of the room, cross the hallway, waved her colleagues in her head - did they reply? Did they even notice? The pleasant smell and texture of her coffee mug trailed behind her, turned the second exit to the left and went with her to the viewing room.
She just stood there, breathed the drug and opened her eyes: the view was amazing, jaw dropping and heavenly. She was so small. So...insignificant. Then she turned off the projector and sipped her placebo to stay awake.

WRITOBER #1 - I Can See You

I CAN SEE YOU

First day of October - she had found a new job.
I mean, she would be doing the same but in a different place: pretend to do actual work while the script she had created did everything for her.
But she didn't know she was being watched... mostly for her body and shiny personality. But they also didn't know they were being watched... mostly by her brain and shiny skills.

...And Those Echoes Rang Out Forever

CarlosOscuroDC

And its head screamed obscenities. Sweet curses - awful nothings. As it lay there, just taking a beating. Just letting the world fall on it. But inside? Oh boy, it screamed - it had practiced a speech and all. Had everything down to a T. Its mouth moved, you know, but there was no sound, no sound at all. Like those old silent movies. It was just waiting for its sketch to end and that black screen with the subtitle with the punchline... THE END.

E a cabeça gritava obscenidades. Doces maldições - nadas horríveis. E quedava ali, a levar uma sova, A deixar o mundo a cair-lhe em cima. E por dentro? Ó não, a coisa gritava - até tinha ensaiado um discurso e tudo. Tinha tudo preparado ao mais ínfimo detalhe. A boca mexia, sabem, mas não saía som. Nenhum, mesmo. Parecia um daqueles filmes mudos antigos. Estava ali à espera que o vídeo terminasse e que o separador negro aparecesse com a legenda da piada a dizer...FIM.

Homeward Bound

Space Study 695 - Jonh Berky

He went home for the weekend.
Cleaned his desk, turned off his terminal and left. On that evening, he also carried a travel bag. He went to a different home, one far up and far away. There was no living soul beside his own - and soon, not even his would be alive. At least, not for 72 hours, or until he came down to Earth. Showered, shaved, slept and went to work. Again.

Foi para casa no fim de semana.
Limpou a secretária, desligou o terminal e saiu. Nessa tarde, ele também carregava uma mala de viagem. Ele foi para outra casa, uma lá em cima e bem longe. Não havia vivalma por perto - e em breve, nem a dele estaria. Pelo menos, durante 72 horas até descer à Terra. Tomar banho, barbear, dormir e ir trabalhar. De novo.

The Last Giant

Romain Devichi - https://www.artstation.com/romaind

They both skipped work, and school. The husband kissed his wife, the son ran for the door but was pulled back. The mother kissed his head. They wanted her to come; she wanted nothing to do with it.

Seat belts fastened, news on the radio and they sped from sight, out of the street, city, into the countryside.

It was a long and tiresome road. They have arrived. Finally. The father shook his boy awake, and both jumped outside. It was incredible. The last giant leaving Earth. To defend home. To war.

*

Ambos faltaram ao trabalho e à escola. O marido beijou a sua esposa e o filho correu para a porta. Foi logo puxado e a mãe beijou-lhe a cabeça. Queriam que viesse, mas ela não quis ter nada a ver.

Apertaram os cintos, ligaram as notícias e desapareceram de vista. Saíram da rua, da cidade, em direcção ao campo.

Foi uma viagem longa e cansativa, mas chegaram. Finalmente. O pai acordou o rapaz e saltaram do carro. Incrível. O último gigante a deixar a Terra. A ir defender a nossa casa. A ir para a guerra.