"My father often told me that if not for pornography, he’d have become a serial killer. On two occasions he described the same story: One night in college he resolved to kill a woman, any woman. He carried a butcher knife beneath his coat and stalked the campus, seeking a target. It rained all night, and the only person walking around was him. He went home, soaked, miserable and alone, regretting the action. He began drawing a comic about stalking a woman."
[NYT]
(Inspired by a 30-day yoga challenge at my yoga studio, I'm writing 30 flash fictions in 30 days. One a day. 100 words or less. Time limit: 15 minutes. You can read all of them here.)
We bought a robot child. It was inconsolable. It wanted to go back to its factory. We grew tired of its pleading. We left it outside and the rats ravaged it. We brought it back inside and stayed awake all night because of the sound of its jaw clacking. We were ashamed of our actions and dedicated ourselves to aggressive expressions of physical affection. Over time, it lost its sheen and retreated to the back of a closet. Years later, we saw it on TV, selling widgets. We were embarrassed and changed the channel.
Time: 15 minutes
Word count: 94 words