Weekly Challenge #192 – A story from the viewpoint of an inanimate object with a Paper Sack, Full Moon, Beginnings

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s A story from the viewpoint of an inanimate object with a Paper Sack, Full Moon, Beginnings!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
Steven
Norval Joe
Zachmann
JRadimus
Justin
TJ
Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


Norval Joe

There were vague memories almost as if they were the residual dreams of others. Separate thoughts of being jelly, or peanut butter, and bread, many slices.
True awareness began when it was slipped into the clear plastic bag, and settled into the dark with an apple and a bag of chips.
They left at noon, the apple and chips. Only the sandwich remained to watch the blue rectangle of sky above fade to grey, then black, alone in the school yard.
Warily, in the dim yellow light cast by the full moon, a stray dog followed the scent of food.

Steven

I found Maria by the airlock, avoiding hyperventilation by puffing into the sack. Her hair swirled in the spaceship’s low gravity.
She gasped “It’s starting!” before breathing into the paper again.
“What’s starting?” I asked.
She pointed at the porthole. I looked out, into the black. “I don’t see…” I said, then I did.
The moon, still dark and new from Earth’s viewpoint, showed a different face to our spaceship. We saw the far side of the moon. It shone bright and full.
Maria’s hand, now more of a paw, fell on my shoulder.
Behind me, I heard a growl.

Zachmann

I am sitting here in a closet waiting to play games and watch movies, I hope the first one is not Twilight New Moon. I love movies with good beginnings. I am will be disappointed with movies with happy endings unless all the children are asleep. Why did they wrap me in a paper sack? I mean it is pretty and has Christmas trees and missile toe but I cost several days pay I am worth Christmas Wrapping paper. They have cats and a dog. I should be glad that I am not under the tree. Alas, poor Teddy bear

JRadimus

Ow! Watch it, buddy! Oh, good gravy. It’s another dumpster diver. Scavenger! It must be a full moon. They like the natural light to rummage by. I wish he’d be more careful; we don’t enjoy the groping, shoving, tearing, and the stick with the nail in the end, you know. My purpose in this life was to help a wino hide his bottle from cops and have him slosh and slobber on me. Now, to have this guy toss me aside for a 2-cent piece of glass or metal is humiliating. I hope I come back as a notebook.

Justin

awake, glistening and new. What am I? I stand stately between three shiny walls and in a sea of brand new blue tile. Behind me is a wall of the same blue tile. My memory rushes back in. I’m made of vitreous china, a mix of clay, silica and a fluxing agent, shaped and fired in a kiln. The wall in front of me opens. A man in shabby clothes walks in with a paper bag. His belt and his pants drop. When he turns to reveal a full moon, I remember I’m a toilet in a public restroom.

TJ

As the statue of David, I am among the naughtier pieces of statuary in Rome. In the evenings, drunken old men slouch in hiding behind my pedestal to rest a moment or two, desecrating my ancient male beauty to make blurting and blorping sounds, taking occasional nips from bottles hidden poorly in tattered paper bags clutched in their fists. Recently I’d begun to take my vengeance, however, against these old Italian drunks. True, I am nothing more than a statue, stuck here in place, but even an inanimate object such as myself can present my defilers with a FULL MOON!

Planet Z

For ten years, a camera watched the back of the store on Baker and Seventh streets.
The place has been robbed a few times, but always from the front.
That camera sees all the action.
The back camera doesn’t see a thing. Just a bum, drinking Mad Dog out of a paper bag under the full moon.
A thug slaps the paper bag away, punches the bum, and stares at the camera before pulling on a ski mask.
He kicks in the door, robs the place. First one from the back door.
Too bad nobody put a tape in tonight.