I was at a workshop about dystopian writing and finally managed to type in what I wrote there:
Normalcy, the weeds in the cracks o highway concrete are fighting it. They are stubborn, they might die, but they are finding every crack and keep on trying. The normalcy bulldozes oer everything, another road here, another percent of work more in the same time there.
July comes home from work. The boss writes his last emails for the day. This one subcontractor needs more pressure to offer lower prices, that coworker needs to get stopped a bit, we don
t want him to get promoted first. Then into the car, the door closes with little sound and provides a shielded environment. Temperature controlled, outside sounds muffled, he drives out of the underground parking. Now it’s time to switch back to friendly mode. He doesn’t want his wife to run away or his kids to get scared. But first traffic, the last good chance to be aggressive. This poor woman in the old small car doesn’t need to get on the highway now, she can wait.
At home, please, no question of how my day was, just let me be quiet in front of the TV, and please let there be food.
Looking down on all these cars passing by, knowing how much destruction they bring, and how much destruction the people in them bring, I want to destroy them. Well, one spell into the engine of one car, it skidding around and all the following cars bouncing into it would do the trick. But it’s not fair. What to do, street should just open up and eat them all. But I am also living off of their work, their exploitation of others, so what to do? I go over the bridge into that little wood on the other side, that grew on an old garbage dump.
The witches circle will call on all good willing beings to work on dismantling this. Well they do that anyways, they take much larger risks than I do, what is my place in this? I lean against my old friend, the oak. She says, “don’t worry, we keep on going, just like we did for thousands of years, there is nothing else we can do.” “But I want a revolution, they are taking up all your space.” “I know”, she says, “I know.” And maybe even she is sad, maybe most of her children were cut away or couldn’t really start to grow. “I know”, she says “I know.” and slowly waves her branches to caress.
The boss wants to work in the garden, there is this little seedling that shouldn’t be there, he wants a lawn in this place. The seedling is stubborn, its roots being much bigger than anything above ground. The boss starts sweating, ripping at the seedling, but in the end gives up. There is an important meeting tomorrow, he needs to catch some sleep.
Don’t really know where I want to go with this, but I wanted to share the current state.