All the food was orange: carrot soup, pumpkin pie, and orange juice. I didn’t like any of it, but I ate it because I had been taught that when you are a guest you must show appreciation of whatever you are given.
I’m not going to like life on Mars.
Tanja Cilia lives in Malta, Europe, with her husband and three children. She freelances for print and online media in Maltese and English. You can read her latest blog post for the Times of Malta here.
Slithering, sliding, slipping… Rory the ravenous raccoon eased his way through the gap under the newly painted fence with a patience that belied his urgency.
There! He was through, and scampering into the safety of the woods.
They found Elvis dead that morning. The orange paw prints were never reported.
This story was based on a prompt from @MisterFiendZero.
“…humans gained ultraviolet vision, but found that its effect when combined with ordinary sight was disorienting. Hence the initiative to recolour our everyday surroundings to a sufficiently distinct hue….”
Dave hurriedly threw the lever, and the Twenty-First Century reasserted itself around him.
“It’s true, Jimmy! The future really is orange!”
This story won the Mere 50 Words contest, with a $50 prize. Congratulations!