I was beginning to think my muse was never going to return from whatever part of the cosmos she has been touring. Last week and this I’ve had aborted attempts at a story that just haven’t satisfied me enough to publish. So I was saved this week by a late thought that crept in at the last minute. I’m not saying it’s a perfect story, but hope it’s good enough to pass muster.
For the uninitiated, this is my entry for the Friday Fictioneers weekly flash fiction blog challenge. The party is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and you can check out the guidleines on her blog, Addicted to Purple. This week’s picture is courtesy of Danny Bowman, so please respect his copyright. My story follows the picture, and to read this week’s other offerings you can click on the blue link-monster at the end of the page.
At The Cyber-Museum
Mommeeee, what’s that old thing?
It’s called a telephone, honey.
What’s a telef-thing for?
People used to use them to talk to each other, back when Mommy was little.
Why didn’t they just Skype them on their Nooraplant?
Well, people didn’t have any neural implants then. And before there were telephones you had to write words on paper, send it off and wait a week for an answer.
What if you wanted to talk to Gramma and Grandad?
Well you’d have to go on a visit, like a holiday.
But Mommy it’s ever such a long way to the moon.