The next topic is PICK TWO Express, In my hand, Expected, Cut and dried, Desiccation, Blocker
LISA
All Our Tomorrows
I’m not sure if it was the heat from the fire, or fumes, or if I was just overwhelmed by being out of the basement but I felt really light headed.
In his explanation he kept repeating that he’d chosen us and the importance of ‘all our tomorrows’. That particular phrase was repeated over and over again.
Later, he led us up a very grand staircase. We had a bedroom each. Mine had a massive double bed and a sofa in it. The weirdness wasn’t the opulence though; it was being separated from the others after being so very close.
LIZZIE
We gathered by the fire. Questions and more questions. One wanted this, the other that. And we all shared our fears and our hopes. There was laughing, crying, and yelling too. Not many believed we would make it out there. We all shook our head. We all chuckled. We knew. They didn’t. We would make it! When the nurse came with the pills for the evening, we all agreed not to take them. The nurse said, take the pills, come on. And… I stood there alone. The others ran and hid in the darkest corners of my mind. The cowards.
RICHARD
Undated
We spent an absolute fortune on the new computerised diary system. The programme basically runs the whole business. We’re totally reliant on it, which – if you ask me – is never a good thing.
Every meeting, appointment and booking, past present and future are managed by the system. All our tomorrows, yesterdays and todays: categorised, organised and optimised, and all supervised by the system to ensure maximum effective use of time and resources.
Neat, huh?
Until the system goes down.
Like it did today. And the engineer can’t come until Wednesday.
So, at least for the time being, tomorrow is cancelled.
SERENDIPIDY
The photo album tells the whole story.
Every page, full of special moments; memories of times past, the family happy together, smiling and loving life.
Every page, that is, right up until the day our lives crossed with his. And then, everything changed, forever.
After that, just blank pages.
No more photographs, no more happy smiles, no more family. All our tomorrows, wiped out in an instant.
My family, destroyed. And, myself, the only survivor.
And him? He’s doing just fine.
Or, so he thinks.
Because I’m on a mission to get even.
So, let’s see what tomorrow will bring.
NORVAL JOE
Like a plot twist in the telenovela, Todos Nuestros Mañanas, as Billbert touched Sabrina’s hand, her eyes flashed open and she tried to sit up. She shouted in pain and the monitors flashed and beeped.
Lightning struck a tree outside the window and thunder rattled the room.
The nurse rushed in. “I’m sorry, Billbert. You’ll have to leave.”
Sabrina clutched Billbert’s hand, gasping, “No. He has to stay.”
The nurse scowled and reset the monitors. Sabrina’s heart rate and respirations had begun to normalize.
“I can’t explain why,” Billbert said. “But I need to stay, for a while at least.”
TOM
When you get to the fork in the road
Sister Fran was a devotee of the ancient sage Yogi of Berra. His collective works were some of few written records from the past that survived. Fran spent hours in deep contemplation on each of the holy koans. She read the gold leaf script with head bowed. The future ain’t what it uses to be. A soft wind blew through the arched window of the monastery. As the western sun melted in the forest she lifted her head. With silver ink Fran wrote the following: All our tomorrows were yesterday. I have taken the fork oh great sage, She mused.
PLANET Z
Mrs. Rettig asked each student to bring in a calendar.
At the end of every day, she’d give out stickers.
Green for good, yellow for needs improvement.
I got a lot of red and black stickers.
At the end of the year, the kids with red and black stickers earned a field trip to the police station.
“This is what will happen if you keep this up,” said Officer Kick.
And he was right. The moment I graduated from high school, I entered the police academy.
I especially enjoyed when I arrested Mrs. Rettig for speeding in a school zone.
CHATGPT
In the city of Allor, time was a fickle mistress. The citizens lived for tomorrow, always planning, always waiting. Their town clock, an ancient artifact, ticked only for future dreams. Sarah, a young artist, painted vivid tomorrows on every wall, each stroke a promise. One evening, the clock stopped. Panic spread, but Sarah saw it as a chance. Gathering the townsfolk, she led them in creating a mural of their today. As they painted, they realized the beauty of the present. The clock began ticking again, but now, Allor lived for today, knowing each moment was a precious thread in their tapestry of tomorrows.
I specially enjoyed Tom’s take on the classic canticle story. It was like deja vu all over again.