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Literature Text
Third Person Plural
Father: Teenagers are too immature to know what’s best for them.
Third Person Neuter
Mother: This country just doesn’t have the same standard of morals.
Third Person Masculine
Father: He’s the perfect choice for her.
Third Person Feminine
Mother: She’s not too young. It’s normal to be nervous.
Second Person
Father & Mother: You should be excited on your wedding day.
First Person
Bride: This isn’t what I want.
Father: Teenagers are too immature to know what’s best for them.
Third Person Neuter
Mother: This country just doesn’t have the same standard of morals.
Third Person Masculine
Father: He’s the perfect choice for her.
Third Person Feminine
Mother: She’s not too young. It’s normal to be nervous.
Second Person
Father & Mother: You should be excited on your wedding day.
First Person
Literature
Escaping with style
There were no blaring sirens or flashing lights as I dashed down the corridors, but there might as well have been. Data streaming across one side of my goggles told me that I had successfully triggered the alarm when I took the hard drive stack. I knew I had four and a half minutes until the security forces arrived. When I reached the security door I was already sending signals to my devices connected into the system. A crude video relay looped images of the empty corridor into the security camera feeds. The data mining box cut the stream of keyword-laden signals with which it had been scattering the building system’s attention. Grinning at my own ingenuity, I hit the unlock button. How many other thieves would have got in by manipulating the mood of a building’s computer systems? But then, how many other thieves understood the emergent emotional states of high end electronics? This was why I'd been hired. The door failed to hiss open. Frowning, I slapped the button again. Still
Literature
Lost in Translation
Things were not going well. He'd knicked his hand on a sharp edge at the first hotel and had to swap to this one at the last minute. He had also forgotten his lucky pick, and his second set was missing a crucial tool. No, Adrian was definitely not having a smooth run of it today.
He was still jimmying the lock several minutes later, and the noise was attracting attention. A tourist -- recognisable by the wide-brimmed hat and extra large sunglasses she wore -- was staring in his direction. Adrian swore under his breath, affected a grin, and waved at her.
"Locked myself out," he called, bringing forth a slight blush, and thanking the Gods tha
Literature
cladach eachtrach
Our shadows were children
the horizon a nightlight,
my skin Vodka white
in the womb
of the Atlantic,
bioluminescence
like sparks
conducting electricity
strip wire symphony,
naked limbs paired and
easily divided
in the remainder
wading
between constants;
prenatal combination,
the tide rolling in contractions,
and like ships to harbor
it bore us to shore.
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66 words (plus 6 deleted words).
Written for Flash Fiction Month 2014: Day 17.
Challenge #8: This is Getting Serious
Written for Flash Fiction Month 2014: Day 17.
Challenge #8: This is Getting Serious
- Element ONE: Your story must have a theme of social justice.
- Element TWO: Your story must be serious in nature.
- Element THREE: Your story must not use any first person pronouns (I, we, us, my, mine, our, ours, etc).
Er, I have played around with the last requirement and made a feature of it. "I" has been used and then crossed out again, so it doesn't strictly appear in the story - I thought that worked so well with my theme. But I hope this still means my piece fulfills the challenge.
© 2014 - 2024 SCFrankles
Comments28
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Very interesting. I enjoyed this! Especially the deleted line.