Written for the game Spelling Bee, Writing Prompt #10


The disk drive spluttered back to life as it periodically did, groaning at the existentiality of it all. It didn’t care that existentiality wasn’t a word, so neither shall we.

The office was quiet, save for the tortured whining of the ‘infernal machine’. That’s what people called it around here anyway. Piece of shit, knackered old thing, etc etc. A sigh would have escaped, had the drive had a mouth. But of course it didn’t, and so no sound came out.

A light flickered overhead, deciding whether or not it would like to give up for today, as attracting flies is not the most becoming of jobs. But professionalism overcame it, and it once more settled into its mundane, buzzing, light-giving routine.

The carpet was stained a colour that it thought didn’t suit it, and had you been there I’m sure you would agree. A dark blotch here, a lighter patch there, a suspicion of something truly heinous lurking over in the corner. The carpet had seen some things, or it would have, had it had eyes. Discarded belts and bras from people who needed just a little more thrill in their life than working in a dingy cubicle could provide. The carpet shuddered at the memory, or at least its bristles appeared to move a little more disgustedly than they had a second prior.

The walls of this office had been grey once. Proud days indeed, a uniform of sorts to match the melancholy drabness of the buildings that stretched for miles around. It was not an interesting colour, but it was a useful one, and the walls had at least prided themselves on that. But now they held only rotting memories, housing all sorts of unspeakable insects and creepy crawlies.

Faint, empty sunlight once more began to rear its head through the cracks and holes in the tiny world of the once-office. As it rose higher it roughly shoved its way uninvited through the humongous hole that adorned one of the walls.

“Rude”, thought everything present. Or they would have, had they been capable.

A sad, empty place. Skeletons of the past, quite literally, sat at the desks.

I guess that’s what a nuclear blast can do to a place like this.