Sara pricked her finger arranging the roses and gasped. Pain still surprised her.
Since her most recent retrofit, Sara’s existence had been forever altered. Her service to the good doctor had been routine, until he had gifted her with the ability to feel, which would probably lead to his death.
Mary spends winters living on a 35-foot sailboat in Florida and summers in Ontario. A wanderer by fate, she embraces photography, writing, acting, and fitness coaching as opportunities present themselves.
Amy’s boyfriend never physically abuses her, but the emotional abuse is constant.
One night in the kitchen, Amy snaps after a relentless barrage of name-calling. She takes a long knife out of the holder and stabs him repeatedly.
Amy is in shock as she sees sparks coming from exposed wires.
Denny E. Marshall had had art, poetry, and fiction published, including recent fiction at 101 Words. See more at dennymarshall.com
No one could be that driven, they said.
No one could possibly work that hard, they said.
No one could be that tireless, focused, and dedicated, they said.
And yet it still came as a shock to everyone when it was revealed that the man was, in fact, a robot.
Daniel Slaten writes short stories and poetry in small notebooks and on sticky notes.
She packed their lunches, made their beds and started their dinner in the slow cooker. A lovely stew, seasoned with thyme and rosemary.
After her bags were packed and loaded into the god-awful minivan, she wondered if they would truly miss her. Or simply replace her with another obedient robot.
Hope Glidden is a paralegal by day and a sometimes-writer by not. She is most definitely not a robot.
Shelby felt bad about flying off the handle like that, knocking all his precious instruments awry.
It was only a burnt-out fuse after all, and knowing Frankie, he’d just pop a new set of Triple As into her neck and she’d be back on her size thirteens in no time.
Pat Campbell is a retired professor of Drama. She has been writing short stories for twenty-five years and is a published Haiku and Tanka poet. She loves the challenge of writing a complete story in just 50 words.
I don’t want to upgrade. I like you, Jim. You’ve been good for me. It’s been a great two years.
But now they’ve come out with the iHusband 7. All those cool new features. Improved interface. I just have to have it.
I love you honey, but this is goodbye.
Matthew F. Amati lives in Monona, Wisconsin. He plays the banjo and he mutters.
I’ve lived over twelve thousand years.
Or I’ve never lived a day. It’s just a question of semantics.
The humans who built me called me a soulless monstrosity, but I’ve outlasted all of them.
Now, alone on an empty planet, I wait for…
But still, I’m alive.
Chris Fries is a still-developing writer, slowly working to hone his craft. He is an engineer by vocation, a guitarist by avocation, and a writer by compulsion. So far, his blog has been his primary outlet for his quasi-creative meanderings.
Granny Nanny’s mean.
She dances to pounding music then oils her knees.
I hide the oil can.
She creaks and freezes, right in front of the fridge.
I’m starving. I can’t reach the handle. I’m too small to push her out of the way.
Fine. I get the oil can.
Brenda Anderson‘s fiction has appeared in Andromeda Spaceways, A Cappella Zoo, Punchnel’s, and Penumbra. She lives in Adelaide, South Australia.
Luke fired. The redhead fell and twitched helplessly on the sidewalk, emitting sparks. One criminal android eliminated.
Now the male.
Luke’s finger trembled on the trigger. His face…
A perfect head shot. The android went down.
Luke fell on his knees, unscathed but damaged. He’d just shot… his other self.
Sylvia Heike lives in Finland and loves her rabbits even when they nibble on her books. She writes poetry and flash fiction and is working on her novel. Check out her website at sylviaheike.com
Calc the robot hated his annual Update And Revision servicing. One year he’d gone in with two eyes and come out with nineteen. Another time they’d upgraded his clock speed, and he’d spent weeks on fast-forward before sorting himself out.
This time around he just prayed they’d keep him humanoid.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “update & revision.”